Zulu Squad No Tsukaima
by No Country For Old Men78
Summary: A quest for redemption of a Zulu Squad sergeant from Spec Ops: The Line to become the hero in a unique world of magic, familiars and bratty teenagers. With much hilarity ensuing. Rated T unless otherwise stated for mild violence, fan service and harsh language.
1. Blind Luck

_(AN: This plot bunny has been running around in my head for over a month. This started out as a one shot, now a full-blown story. For anyone who is just now getting on board and reading this for the first time, the first few chapters are setting up the story, so please be patient. Review, critique, comment and jeer away. _

_Per the standard disclaimer I own nothing. Spec Ops: the Line belongs to Yager, Entertainment, and Familiar of Zero belongs to Yamaguchi Noboro. Any references to pop culture or the like belong to their respective owners.)_

* * *

><p><strong><em>"A man cannot become a hero until he can see the root of his own downfall."<em>**

**- Aristotle**

* * *

><p>"Tangos moving, eyes wide!"<p>

Sgt. Crosby growled in his radio as he advanced on the now-overrun command center. Members of Zulu Squad were notorious for being cool and detached in combat, but Crosby stood out even in his own cadre, earning him the call sign _Iceman_. It contrasted with the turmoil of emotions that boiled within. Names flashed through his mind; Bowles, Benson, Tebby, McPherson, Gobbi. All dead; all murdered by this sick psychopathic CIA puppet who called himself Captain Martin Walker.

48 hours earlier, when they first made contact with this mysterious 3 man team, his was the dissenting opinion among the senior commanders of the 33rd; he was in favor of trying to contact this Captain Walker and see if all the violence was just a misunderstanding on their part, instead of total annihilation. All of that changed with the Gate Massacre, 156 soldiers and 47 civilians burned to death with white phosphorus. Out of the ashes of grief over the loss of civilian live and the deaths of their comrades was replaced with a burning hatred of this Walker.

His thoughts were interrupted as he took cover and noted that Walker and the other soldier had taken up positions behind the sandbag reinforced bunker inside the Command Center. He signaled to Martinez, one of the other Zulu Squad soldiers, who spoke in the same cold, clipped manner as Crosby.

_"Advancing on Delta, cover my six."_

Crosby nodded and signaled his other squad-mate to approach from the blind side with grenades. The thought brought another unpleasant memory, he remembered when Walker had intervened with Operation Cockroach, when 33rd intel found the location of Special Agent Riggs and his team of insurgents. Walker and his team ambushed Crosby and his men as they converged on the ruined department store that was Rigg's base, and what should have been a routine flush out mission turned into a bloodbath. With higher ground and the element of surprise, Walker's team decimated the 33rd, but the kicker was what happened to Pvt. Gobbi.

Gobbi was still an idealist, believing that the Damned 33rd would be vindicated once the world knew the truth of what happened. The young father of two from Kentucky had struck up a friendship with the usually gruff leader of Zulu Squad, and they shared many an evening off duty at the putting green swapping stories. In that firefight Gobbi had broken formation to try and take out Walker, who had taken cover behind a HUMVEE. The next Crosby heard was Gobbi screaming in a panic.

"Get it off me, for Christ's sake get it off be before it goes!"

Too late, as soon as Crosby had eyes on the private, he exploded in a shower of red gore and body parts. That sick bastard Walker had thrown a "sticky" grenade and it stuck to the unlucky private. Gobbi would have turned 23 next month. His baby girl just turned 3.

An explosion jolted Sgt. Crosby back to the present as he saw one of his squaddies fly back from a RPG explosion. The other one had taken cover by the Memorial Wall, but the enemy Heavy Gunner unloaded his M249 SAW onto Pineada's position. The corporal barely choked out a "Fuck! I'm hit!" before collapsing on the ground.

Crosby let out a sigh. Martinez and Pineada were down. More names to add to the Memorial Wall. Assuming they ever recaptured the Command Center. He spoke into his radio.

"Taking casualties."

He tried to control his emotions and staying focused on the mission. Muzzle flashes burst from the darkness, and instinctively Crosby ducked. There was a clattering noise and he looked down, only to see a grenade at his feet. Time slowed down, and he thought he heard a voice. A soft melodious female voice echoed in his ears.

**_"Sergeant Robert Crosby, you have suffered so much, and for so little..."_**

Before Crosby could react there was a blinding flash, and he found himself in a world of bright white light. Before him stood a lithe figure clothed in wispy thin garments of a purple and gold colors. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he saw that the figure was a beautiful young woman with green hair.

A beautiful woman with green hair? His rational brain rebelled at what he saw. Maybe this was the afterlife? Heaven? It didn't fit with what he remembered being taught as a child. The ethereally beautiful lady slowly strode up to him, her dress billowing as she stepped forward. She cocked her head to one side and her green tresses swished as if teased by an unseen wind. She stared intently at Crosby with large eyes that were the same hue as her hair. The lady looked over his clothes, his armor and his weapon, and finally looked him in the eyes. She continued in the same soft musical voice.

**_"All you ever wanted was to be a hero. And yet cruel fate has turned you into a monster."_**

He stared at her for a long time before responding.

"With all due respect, ma'am, who are you?"

She smiled.

_**"Who I am is of little consequence. I am here to grant a boon, to answer the wish that has burned in your warrior's heart for so long. I will grant you your wish. You will become a hero."**_

Before he could respond, the lady reach out to him and touched his armored chest with the tip of her finger, and he felt a burning pain convulsing through his frame. Another blinding white flash, and he found himself face down.

Grass. The first thing he perceived was green grass. It was over 18 months since he was last stateside, but it felt like an eternity since he saw grass. A breeze blew cooled the back of his neck and wicked the sweat that was staining his balaclava. As he began to get his bearings, he pushed himself to his feet and looked up. The sight that greeted him made him freeze.

Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière sat on the ground from where the blast blew her on her backside, staring at the apparition before her. At first she thought it was a golem, but then it became evident it was a human male. He was dressed in very odd clothes, wearing black and white armor that was neither metal nor leather but some sort of woven material. He wore a helm covered in black material, his face was hidden behind a scarf patterned after a human skull, his eyes were concealed behind a visor of mirrored orange glass. He appeared disoriented, but when he noticed her he tensed up, bringing his weapon to bear. It looked like a sleeker version of a musket made of black metal. Then he spoke, in a guttural harsh voice.

"'Become a hero she said'. Dammit Walker, you son of a bitch!"

_(AN: Seriously I thought that the guys in Zulu Squad in _Spec Ops: The Line_ were some real badasses; cool uniforms, cool equipment, ice-cold combat chatter._ So I'm putting one in __Familiar of Zero__. If you want to see our Zulu Squad sarge being a fish out of water at the Tristain Academy of Magic, then proceed to Chapter 2 Adapt and Overcome. I've removed the chapters involving the fate of Adams and Walker since it was causing some confusion. They have their own story __Friendship is Magic: The Line__. Hope this helps. Enjoy!) __


	2. Adapt and Overcome

_(AN: So, I can't sleep, thank you very much stress at work. But my loss is your gain; in an effort to fight through my insomnia I finished this chapter and it's ready to post. Now we get to see how our Zulu Squad sergeant will adapt in a world of magic and weirdness. And for those of you who asked, yes, I did model Sgt. Crosby after Sgt. Brad 'Iceman' Colbert in Generation Kill. If you're a fan of war movies but haven't watched it you're missing out. Also I've framed out the next chapter, in which we will learn the fate of Sgt. John Lugo. Enjoy!)_

"Dammit, Walker you son of a bitch!"

Sgt. Crosby growled, causing the group of in front of him to flinch. His brain was barely able to process what had just happened and now he was clearly not in Kansas anymore, let alone Dubai. The Zulu Squad sergeant pushed back his orange goggles onto his helmet and slowly took in his surroundings.

He standing in the middle of a courtyard of what looked like a medieval castle, and in front of him were a group of kids, teenagers. Teenagers that were wearing weird clothes, cloaks, and brandishing wands. It looked like a Harry Potter cosplay convention. And what the hell was up with the hairstyles? The one sprawled at the ground in front of him had hot pink hair, there was another one in the crowd with bright red hair, and another with short blue hair. Not to mention that all of them had absurdly large eyes. Crosby shook his head. But before he could speak, a balding older gentleman in archaic blue robes spoke. He was scolding the pink-haired girl in French, or at least it sounded like French.

"Louise this is highly irregular, I told you the Summoning of the Familiar ritual l is a sacred ordeal, to use the summon familiar spell a second time borders on blasphemy. You have to choose one."

The pinkette glanced fearfully at the second familiar. He was clearly a man, and another commoner, but he looked very intimidating. He had removed his glass eye covering and was staring at her intently with cold, blue eyes.

"Professor Colbert, I think I would rather take the first familiar, the commoner. This one looks scary."

Colbert nodded.

"Then seal the contract with the first familiar, I will take care of this one."

Crosby watched as the pink-haired girl walk past him to a second figure in the courtyard. He hadn't noticed because the person was behind him and out of his peripheral vision. It was a boy, a teenager wearing fairly average looking clothes. He turned his attention back to the older man, who was slowly approaching and making placating gestures. Gingerly the old man reached out with the staff he was carrying and spoke more words before touching it's tip on the center of Crosby's assault vest. He felt a brief sting, like a jolt of static electricity.

"Do you understand me, stranger?"

The soldier nodded.

"Yes, sir, I understand you. Let me guess, that was some sort of magic trick you did?"

The man in the odd robes chuckled.

"Yes it was magic but there was no trick to it. Well at least not for an old hat like me. My name is Colbert, and I'm sure you have many questions to ask."

On instinct Crosby stood at attention and saluted.

"Sgt. Robert Crosby, Zulu Squad, of the Damned 33rd, sir."

Colbert started at the man's odd gesture for a moment but was interrupted by some outbursts of the students. Apparently the pink-haired girl's name was Louise and was being teased by her classmates over her 'familiar.' He turned back to Crosby.

"If you will come this way, Mr. Crosby, I will take you to the headmaster and he will explain everything."

* * *

><p><strong>(The following day, around lunchtime)<strong>

Sgt. Crosby took sip of water and closed his eyes at the pleasant feeling of it's cool sensation wetting his mouth and throat. He tore a piece of the coarse brown bread and chewed it, savoring the complex flavors and textures. According to one of the servant girls, the food he was eating was technically rejects from the noble's table, since commoners couldn't eat the same food as nobles, let alone sit with them. Not that he minded. After spending 6 months in a sandstorm-wracked desert hellhole living off tasteless energy bars and lukewarm sand-tainted water, cold water and fresh bread was pure heaven. After taking another drink he leaned back and took in his surroundings.

Sitting in a corner table far away from the others gave Crosby a chance to relax. He had been getting all sorts of odd looks since his arrival here yesterday. He had been debriefed by the headmaster, and old bearded wizard by the name of Osmond, who very apologetically told Crosby that being summoned here was a mistake. The headmaster said that it was unprecedented for someone to perform the familiar summoning rite twice, so until they could find out what to do with their new arrival he would have to sit tight and wait. He didn't mind, the cook had set up a spare cot in the kitchen for him to sleep on, and it was still more comfortable than his old rack in Dubai. It was colder at night than he was used to, and he found himself positioning himself closer to the kitchen's large fireplace to keep warm. He also had the first good night's sleep in many months, one without nightmares.

His musings were interrupted when he heard a high-pitched voice. The Zulu Squad sergeant glanced further down the hallway and saw the voice's owner. It was the pink-haired girl Louise, the one who apparently summoned him to this bizarre world of magic. The sergeant also noticed the teenaged boy was with her as well.

Crosby had ran across the teen the previous night when he took a stroll through the academy's grounds after dinner. He found the kid washing clothes in fountain, apparently being a 'Familiar' meant being a slave. The soldier chuckled at the kid's reaction as he snuck up behind him.

"Hey."

The kid jumped three feet in the air and yelped in something in Japanese. Crosby shook his head.

"Sorry kid, I don't understand you."

The teen paused for a moment.

"English?" he asked. Crosby nodded.

"Oh, good! I can practice my English on you, soldier-san. I've watched a lot of American TV."

The teen offered a hand.

"You were the other one Louise summoned, so you come from Earth as well? My name is Hiraga, Saito Hiraga, age 16, from Tokyo."

Crosby looked down at the kid's hand before shrugging and shaking it.

"Sgt. Robert Crosby."

He looked down at the small pink cloth that Saito was holding, before realizing it was underwear.

"I didn't realize that being a familiar meant washing girl's panties."

The teenager blushed.

"Don't get me started. She told me that if I didn't do laundry she wouldn't feed me. This magical world is worse than any manga story."

The kid glanced at Crosby's armor and gear.

"Where are you from, originally Crosby-san?"

"Originally? Fort Benning, Georgia. More recently? Dubai. I am, or rather was, part of the 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion."

Saito's eyes went wide at the soldier's admission.

"You're from the Damned 33rd? I thought they were lost in a sandstorm in Dubai!"

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know about us?"

"I saw on the news about the sandstorms that enveloped Dubai, Crosby-san. The last I heard was the the 33rd Battalion was lost trying to evacuate from the sandstorm."

Crosby shook his head.

"That sounds about right for the stonewalling media. The truth is more complex. My CO, Colonel John Konrad, volunteered to help coordinate the evacuation of Dubai. But his superiors ordered him to leave, when it was clear that only the rich and the elite were getting out and the civvies were being left to their fate. He defied that order, and stayed behind, to help them."

"That sounds awesome."

The sergeant's face hardened.

"No, it wasn't kid. When the storms got worse we attempted an evacuation, an evac that ended in disaster. 1,200 civilians and soldiers died. When we got back, it was decided by Konrad that we would hunker down and try to ride the storm out. As water and food got scarce, we had to rely on more and more draconian methods to maintain order. By the end of it we were practically a police state. So no, it was not awesome. We had to do some very bad things to keep people alive. It's one reason I'm not in a huge toot to get home. At best I have a court-martial and a bad conduct discharge waiting for me when I get home, at worst I'll face a firing squad as a war criminal."

He looked down, unable to meet Saito's horrified gaze.

"Sorry to bust your bubble kid."

Crosby shook his head, remembering the aghast look on Saito's face and quickly changing the subject to more pleasant things. In spite of his gruff nature the soldier found himself helping the teen with his laundry, being deployed to BFE meant that you didn't exactly have access to washing machines, so Crosby was no stranger to hand-washing clothes. He took a pair of hosiery from Saito.

"Kid if you keep washing like that it's gonna pill. Let me show you a trick I learned in Kabul..."

As he carefully washed it, he saw the teen looking at him funny.

"Since when does a soldier learn how to wash women's nylons?"

Crosby shrugged.

"When Supply classifies Under Armor as Class VI instead of Class II you learn to improvise."

He saw the blank look Saito was giving him.

"It keeps you warm at night and keeps the sand fleas at bay when you're on patrol. Don't knock it until you've tried it."

During their hour-long chat that night Crosby learned quite a lot about Saito, and teenagers from Japan in general. The kid liked video games, and their unusal comic book called manga and visual novels. The kid was a big fan of the military and wanted to sign up for the Self Defense Force when he was old enough, he even told Crosby of his dreams of flying. The Zulu Squad sergeant took a liking to Saito, he reminded Crosby of a young soldier he knew back in Dubai. That and they were both in the same boat; both were from the same world and stuck in the weird new world.

The soldier's musings were interrupted when a maid wearing a frilly apron and cuffs came and cleared off his plate. He recognized her as Siesta, the maid who arranged his cot the night before. She was cute if way too young for him, with short black hair and blue eyes that were unnaturally large. Although most of the people in this bizarre world had large eyes. The maid lowered her eyes and respectfully addressed the sergeant.

"Did you enjoy your meal Mr. Crosby? I'm sorry if the bread was overdone. The nobles refused to eat it because they said it was burned."

Crosby smiled at the girl's demure attitude.

"Easy, kiddo. The bread was delicious, I haven't had a meal that good in months. Good job."

The maid brightened at his compliment and let out a _kyaa_, something that was alien to the soldier but sounded like a squeal of glee. He shrugged, must be a local thing. He saw a cake on a tray next to her.

"Where're you taking the cake?"

She lowered her head and gestured to a table on the other side of the dining hall where a blonde haired pretty boy and a girl were dining.

"To Master Guiche's table, now I must hurry or he will berate me again."

When the soldier didn't respond, Siesta took the tray and hurried off. With all the crap he had been through in Dubai, all Crosby wanted was to enjoy some real food and have some peace and quiet. It was short lived, as he heard a loud shout and an argument. When he looked over to the table he saw the same blonde fop, but this time there were two girls at his table, both shouting at him. The maid was nowhere in sight, but he saw that Saito was standing off to the side with a smirk on his face. The sergeant was about to ignore the kerfuffle and take his lunch to the courtyard when he heard the blonde fop shout.

"HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT I AM UNFAITHFUL!"

And he was shouting at Saito. Great, thought Crosby, not even here a day and the kid's already gotten into a fight at school. There was a part of him, small but vocal that told Crosby that this was none of his business, and that he shouldn't interfere. After the crazy shit that went down in Dubai, keeping to one's business, especially in a new world, would be a no-brainer. But another part of Crosby, the soldier's part, reminded him that he should stick up for Saito. After all, the Tokyo teen was as lost as Crosby was, and he doubted that the blonde fop was going to challenge Saito to thumb-wrestling.

The Zulu Squad sergeant stood up from his chair and made his way over to where Saito was standing. The blonde boy paused in his rant to glance at Crosby.

"What seems to be the major malfunction here?"

The fop drew himself up to his full height.

"This common familiar has tarnished my honor with lies!"

Crosby glanced over to the Toyko teen, then back to the fop.

"Eighty-six the insults, kid. What did Saito do that got you all hot and bothered?"

The noble snorted.

He insinuated that I, Guiche de Gramont, was cheating on my beloved MonMon with a first year girl!"

The soldier raised an eyebrow.

"Well, were you?"

The boy called Guiche blushed for a moment, he glanced over at the blonde girl with ringlets in her hair.

"Er, ah, well!"

The girl's face contorted into a scowl, and she slapped Guiche.

"I knew it! You were cheating on me with that first year student!"

Guiche rubbed his face where the girl's hand slapped him. The soldier considered the matter closed, and turned to Saito.

"Better evac to the courtyard, kid. I'll join you shortly."

The Tokyo teen needed no encouragement, and quickly dashed off. Crosby turned and saw that the fop and his girlfriend were still arguing. Guiche paused in his rant and glared at the soldier.

"This is all your fault, commoner!"

The sergeant shrugged.

"None of my business, kid, but if you cheat on your girlfriend you get what you deserve."

Guiche seethed for a good long minute fore exploding.

"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! I REFUSE TO ALLOW A COMMONER TO SULLY MY NAME. I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

The mood in the dining hall sobered instantly. The pinkette Louise looked fearful, the Tokyo teen Satio paused as he was about to leave. But Crosby's face had hardened, and when he spoke in was in a low, menacing voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're challenging me. To a duel?"

Guiche lost a bit of his composure under the glare of the soldier, but he nodded.

"Your funeral, kid. Fine, I accept your duel. When and where is the site of your impending messy death?"

Guiche quailed at the casually dangerous speech, and appeared to waver for a moment, then straightened up.

"Very well. The duel will start in 10 minutes in the courtyard." He raised his voice. "All shall attend so they can witness your shameful defeat."

With that Guiche left, and Crosby walked back to the table, pulled on his gloves and started putting on his balaclava. As he was strapping the helmet his head he was aware of Louise berating Saito.

"You must go and make that scary commoner apologize to Guiche! He is a powerful Bronze Mage, if Guiche kills him Osmond will blame me and I'll be expelled! Or worse, my family will be disgraced!"

Crosby chuckled at the skewed priorities of the girl. He fixed his goggles in place and slung his P90 across his chest. The girl should really be worrying about Guiche, not him. He had faced Martin Walker and lived, taking out a blonde sissy would be a cakewalk. He checked to make sure both his Desert Eagle and his backup M9 were locked and loaded, then he turned to leave. He saw the Tokyo teen standing in his way.

"Well? Going to convince me to apologize to the little shit?"

The teen shook his head and started to speak, but wasn't making any sense. And it was irritating Crosby.

"Well, no but...but..."

Saito began stammering as he watched the soldier's icy blue eyes glaring at him. He felt like a bug fixed to a placard. Finally he relented, and took a few steps back, out of the Zulu Squad soldier's way. Crosby shook his head, that kid probably didn't know how much trouble he would have been in if he attempted the duel with a mage. Outside in the courtyard there was a large crowd of students gathered.

"Big crowd." He said to himself.

As if on cue Guiche came sauntering out of the crowd facing the soldier.

"Ah, there you are, are you ready to duel?"

Crosby shrugged.

"There are more idiots than people in the world, and no cure for it. Are we dueling or not?"

Guiche nodded and made a sweeping gesture with a rose.

"I am called Guiche the Bronze Mage, and you will face my constructs."

The soldier did not cower in fear, but spoke in a rather annoyed fashion.

"Has the duel started or not?"

Guiche was a bit off put, but replied. "Well, yes it has."

"Good."

With that the soldier raised his sleek musket construct and there was a loud cracking sound that echoed through the courtyard like thunder, followed by a decidedly unmanly shriek of pain. Guiche had dropped a rose flower and was clutching his right shoulder. He fell to the ground screaming as blood oozed from between his fingers.

He saw the soldier approach him, his weapon leveled and leaning forward in with a slow deliberate gait like a tiger stalking its prey. Guiche tried to scoot back away from him but his retreat was stopped when he backed into a wall. The soldier kept advancing and stopped right in front of Guiche, towering over him like some golem. A beam of light issued from the end of his weapon and put small red dot on Guiche's chest.

"W-wait! I yield, I give up, just don't kill me!"

He heard harsh chuckle come from the commoner, and though he couldn't see his face Guiche somehow knew that the man was smiling.

"Come on, I thought you said it was a duel to the death. What's the fun in quitting now?"

At some level the Zulu Squad sergeant was disappointed that his opponent went down so quickly. Although the kid seemed less dangerous than enemies of the Damned 33rd, if Dubai taught Crosby anything he knew better than to underestimate someone just because he was a kid. If the kid really was a mage it meant he could be dangerous, and that meant he had to be put down. Besides, the Damned 33rd looks after their own, and as far as he was concerned, the teen from Tokyo was the closest thing to a friend he had in this new world, which meant he had to protect him. As if on cue he heard Saito's voice behind him.

"Wait, Crosby-san! You can't kill him!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant was really getting irritated at the kid. Didn't Saito realize that he was doing this for his sake? Didn't the kid realize that if he tried to fight a mage that could conjure up Bronze whatchamacallits would be fatal for a 16 year old with no combat experience?

"Sure I can. It would be very easy to do. All it takes is one well-placed bullet."

The cold demeanor of Crosby caused Guiche's eyes to widen in fright. Crosby continued.

"I'm going to make an example out of this pompous brat, then maybe the rest of these uptight mages would think twice before messing with you, or me. It has to be this way."

He ignored the blonde fop's cries for help, and the panicked reactions of the other kids. All of Crosby's focus was on the downed enemy at his feet. The soldier's head was awash with the adrenalin and bloodlust that came from being in combat. He had to admit it, that part he liked. The moment when he had the drop on his enemy just before he finished them off. Then he heard a voice. A soft feminine voice that cut through the red mist in his brain.

_**"You don't want to murder the child."**_

It was the voice of the Lady in the white light, the one who sent him to this world. Crosby growled to himself and tried to refocus, but the voice persisted.

_**"You are a good person, Robert Crosby, and all you wanted was to be a hero. Heroes don't murder children."**_

The soft, soothing voice blunted Crosby's bloodlust, and for a brief moment he was reminded of a memory in Afghanistan. A terrible memory that plagued him even in Dubai. The vision of an insurgent sniper that had ambushed Crosby's patrol. But the insurgent was just a kid, no older than the one begging for his life at Crosby's feet. The memory of that dead kid staring up at him caused all of the Zulu Squad sergeant's anger was swept away, in it's place was a heavy shame and revulsion. Finally he lowered his weapon, and turned away, unable to look Saito in the eye.

"Fine. You deal with him."

As Crosby turned to leave he noticed most of the students were looking at the spectacle with a bored disinterest. He was shocked. Here he almost killed a kid in cold blood and everyone was treating it as if it were some sort of wizard's duel. He overheard two students talking.

"...That was the worst duel ever, and Guiche didn't even get to summon his Bronze golems!"

Crosby shook his head. Kids. He then noticed a member of the teaching faculty approaching. It was Colbert, the teacher who was present when Louise performed the Familiar Summoning Spell. The teacher glanced over to Guiche and then back at Crosby fearfully. This one at least understood the gravity of the situation.

"Excuse me Mr. Crosby, but could you please accompany me? The Headmaster would like to speak to you."

The soldier shook his head.

"Get in a fight on the playground and get sent to the principle's office. Now this sounds familiar."

_(AN: Funny enough, you stick a soldier from some military FPS into an anime he's going to be puzzled by some of genre's unique aspects, like tsundere, yandere, squee (or kyaa), etc. So expect a lot of Lampshade Hanging and Leaning on the 4th Wall from our soldier as he adapts to his new world._

_And Yeah I know that in a lot of the crossovers there's this big epic battle between the OC and the Bronze golems, but let's face it, this is a real soldier, a badass soldier to be true, but a real person not some supersoldier or overpowerful Sue-ish mage. He's someone who's professed dislike for close quarter combat, and knows that he can't win a fair fight with a mage, so he's going to be more pragmatic. And spending 6 months in Dubai makes you very pragmatic and very ruthless. His internal turmoil and sparing Guiche's life is the start of Crosby's character development, I know there's alot of FOZ fans out there that wanted to see Crosby kill Guiche, but that would be counter productive to the plot. Zulu Squad soldieres are ruthless, but not murderers. The next chapter I think will concern the fate of the final member of Delta Squad, so stay tuned!)_


	3. We Were Soldiers

_(AN: Well, I churned this out in less than an hour! Another interlude before getting back to the main x-over. But this is the moment you've all been waiting for, the fate of Sgt. Lugo!)_

Lugo's vision began to fade. He didn't mind that, it also meant that he stopped feeling the fists and shoes pummeling him. It also meant the end was coming up quick. He also didn't mind that. After all the shit he had seen, all the things he and his team had done, he felt like he deserved to die. He was fleeing the 33rd and thought that the refugee camp would be safe, he was wrong. He didn't blame the refugees for attacking him. As far as they were concerned, the fact that Dubai was going to slowly die of thirst was his fault. And to them, he was the enemy. He didn't blame them, or even the 33rd for trying to kill him. He did blame Walker.

At first it was disobeying their original orders by trying to rescue the captured McPherson, and then it was when he ordered his team to fire on US soldiers. The wham line came with the white phosphorus incident. His CO had turned them into killers of civilians. The last straw was the raid on the water coliseum, and putting their trust in that snake Riggs. There were no villains in this piece, just misguided men who were obeying orders of superiors making bad judgment calls. The only villain finally, was Walker. Walker who treated the whole mission as if it was his own hero trip. Walker who acted as if he was reenacting some sick, twisted version of a first person shooter video game fantasy. Except the people they were killing weren't some faceless mooks or endless waves of murderous aliens, they were people. People with lives, families, hopes and dreams. But Lugo still felt like it was his fault. At any point he could have questioned Walker's orders, or insisted that Adams relieve him of command due to mental pressures. At any point he could have stopped, but he didn't.

He felt something tightening around his neck, and was vaguely aware of being lifted off the ground. He didn't even feel much discomfort at having his oxygen supply cut off, it just meant that the end was near. It was odd, he saw a bright white light, and then felt nothing.

When he became aware, he found himself surrounded by white light. He looked down and saw he was wearing his uniform, which was free from the damage it had incurred over the last 48 hours in Dubai. He still had his TAR-21 assault rifle in his hands, and a Scout Tactical sniper rifle slung to his back.

**_"Sergeant John Lugo, the peaceful man who became a soldier to better the world. Yet fate and your superior made you into a monster."_**

Lugo then noticed where the voice was coming from. It took the form of a tall female figure with flowing green hair. As she approach he noticed she was wearing some wispy thin garment of purple and gold. And she was incredibly gorgeous. Immediately the old Lugo came out.

"Well, helloooo beautiful. If you're my guardian angel, all I gotta say is 'daaamn!'. It's a shame I had to die to see you, because if I knew how gorgeous you were, I would have tried to get to Heaven sooner. Who are you?"

The female figure put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled.

**_"Flatterer. Who I am is unimportant."_**

"Oh, come on. A lady as pretty as you can't go unnamed, what is it?"

She stopped giggling, but still smiled.

**_"You are quite persistent, and your charm is undeniable. How is it that you described yourself?"_**

Lugo straightened his baseball cap and grinned.

"Well, I speak six languages. Gimme a broken radio and a paperclip, and I'm MacGuyver. I can deadeye a squirrel at 2000 meters with Betsy here."

He patted his Scout Tactical. And then he winked at the female figure.

"-And, to top it all off, I'm the sexiest thing ever poured into a pair of ACUs. And you are?"

If the apparition could blush, she would have. As it was she continued smiling as she spoke.

**_"As you wish. I am the Weaver of Fate, not just for this tapestry, but many different tapestries. In these patterns I find threads about to be cut, and I pluck them before they are cut, and then weave them into other tapestries where they can alter the patterns for the better. Now, I ask you, what is your heart's fondest desire?"_**

"Well, I think spending an eternity getting to know a certain pretty lady with green hair would be a start."

The figure paused for a moment. Then she slowly shook her head.

**_"As tempting as that sounds, that cannot be. There must be something you desire."_**

Lugo did not respond right away, so she approached closer, close for her to look into his eyes. She had deep green eyes. In those eyes he saw all his past memories. She then smiled and nodded.**_  
><em>**

**_"Ah, I see. Very well, I shall grant your wish, John. You shall be a gallant knight on a white steed who rescues the fair maiden from the evil dragon. You shall combat evil and fight for the forces of good. This is the boon I will grant you."_**

Lugo felt her hands on his face as she leaned in. He closed his eyes at the last minute, but he felt soft lips brushing his, follows by an electric current that coursed through his entire body. It wasn't entirely unwelcome.**_  
><em>**

**_"Welcome, John Lugo, to your eternal reward."_**

Lugo woke up with a start. The first thing he noticed was that he was lying on grass, and the second was that it was nighttime. He sat up at the sound of someone crying out, someone female. He looked around. As he became aware he took notice of his surroundings. He was on a well-manicured lawn with shrubs and fountains. Behind him was a large stone manor as big as a castle. He heard the crying a second time and turned to the source. He saw a tall man with a thin mustache and wearing an old-fashioned medieval get-up with a ruffled collar walking towards the manor's entrance, and behind him were two guards dragging a young girl with short dark hair and a maid's outfit. Although he could not make out what was being said he understood the gist. The girl was being coerced against her will, and the man with the old fashioned clothes had less than honorable intentions. Now it made sense. His soldier's instincts kicked in and he began to formulate a plan to infiltrate the manor.

Siesta did not know what was going on, except that it was very bad. Bad enough for Count Mott's guards to interrupt his lecherous advances on her. She welcomed the interruption, but judging by the panicked expression on the noble's face it must be very bad. He left her locked in his room, and all she heard for the last hour were shouts and loud noises like musket shots. Then there was silence. She heard footsteps coming up, echoing off the marble floors, before stopping in front the door. She saw a shadow under the door and saw the doorknob rattle. She flinched as the door's lock was blown apart by some sort of magic. The door kicked open and a strange-looking man rushed in.

Lugo kicked open the door and rushed in, checking corners as standard breaching procedure. As he secured the room, his eyes took in the room. It was luxuriously appointed, lavish even by the standards of the rest of the palatial manor. There was an enormous four poster bed and a roaring fire in the fireplace. Cowering near the bed was the same young girl with dark hair. As he approached he could make out her features. She had short black hair that came down to her jaw, delicate features and wide light blue eyes. He then noticed that two things; she had a very impressive rack and she was dressed in a very skimpy outfit. The Delta Operator in him dragged his mind out of the gutter and focused back on her face. She looked very scared, and as he approached she whimpered and scooted back away from him. When her back was against the bedpost, she started to speak in a different language. A language he, shockingly understood.

The man was wearing very odd clothes, and had some weird hat with a long visor on the front. His weapon vaguely reminded her of the weapon that Mr. Crosby had, and the clothes had a similar pattern, but were light brown instead of black, like Mr. Crosby. As he approached she panicked.

"Please, sir, please don't hurt me! I just want to go home!"

Lugo was in shock. The girl was speaking French, or something that approximated it. His mother had insisted that he learn French. She was from Paris, although her parents originally hailed from Marrakesh, she had insisted that Lugo go to France to study and learn of his French heritage. He secured his weapon, knelt down and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Shh! It's okay, it's okay girl. I'm not going to hurt you."

Speaking her language seemed to calm her, so he took a stab in the dark. He pointed a gloved finger to his chest.

"My name is Lugo, what's yours?"

She was still shaking, but she nodded and responded.

"Siesta, my name is Siesta."

Lugo smiled at her, and she smiled back. He looked around the room and found what he needed. He pulled an ornate brocade throw off a table and wrapped it around her shoulders. She tugged it closer to her, and accepted his outstretched hand as he helped her up.

"C'mon," he said, "Let's get you home. Where is home for you?"

"Tristain Academy of Magic, it's not far from here."

Lugo raised an eyebrow. There it was, the "magic" reference. The dirty old pervert had mentioned that he was a mage before Lugo shot him, he dismissed it at the time as being delusional. What if he was in a world of magic? He led Siesta out of the manor, and down the gravel path. At the end of the path were several horses hitched to posts. Lugo grinned as he saw the lead horse with a highly ornate kit. Horseback riding came natural for someone who grew up on his dad's ranch outside of Lubbock. If his mother represented the snooty European jet-set crowd, his father was just the opposite. Born an American citizen of illegal immigrant parents, his father started out as an hourly ranch hand, but within two decades was managing his own ranch. He smiled at the recollection of his father's reaction that his son whom he was grooming to take over the family ranch was enlisting in the Army instead.

Siesta watched as her odd man with the odd clothes effortlessly mounted up onto the count's prized steed. It was just like in the romance novels she read, the gallant knight who saved the fair maiden, it was only fitting that it was a white stallion. After he settled in he clicked his heels into the animal's flanks to approach her, he reached out a hand just as like in the books. Effortlessly he lifted her up and settled her in the saddle behind him. It was too much for her, and she let out a _kyaaa_ as she hugged him from behind.

Lugo grinned. He wasn't exactly sure what that sound the girl named Siesta made, other than it sounded like a squeal of glee, but he was sure that he liked his current gig. Riding off in the sunset (or in this case, sunrise) having rescued a pretty girl from a fate worse than death, this he could get used to. He even was riding on a steed befitting a knight in shining armor.  
>"Lady, or Weaver of Fate, wherever you are, you rock!" He murmured to himself as he spurred the horse in the general direction of the girl's home.<p>

_(AN: Yeah, I know it's really sappy. As in Tastes Like Diabetes sappy. And badly written, too. But what do you expect when you churn out 2K+ words in an hour with very little sleep. Seriously I've been going over the story and finding all sorts of misspelling and grammatical errors and inconsistencies, so it means I should slow down and spend more time proofreading. Back to this chapter, of all the characters in _Spec Ops: The Line_, I felt the most for Lugo. He defined the trope of 'Woobie'. Especially after the white phosphorus incident at the gate, and I really felt bad when he got lynched by the mob. So I figured I would give him a nice reward. Couple of things; for his background because of his name I figured he was Hispanic, but since his voice actor was Middle-Eastern and with his fluency of Farsi and Arabic I figured this was the easiest way to explain his heritage. And yes, he will cross paths with our Zulu Squad sergeant. And no, it won't be pretty, but it won't be fatal either. I believe in resolvable angst, not fatal angst LOL.)_


	4. Damned If You Do

_(AN: Well I'm alive. Feeling better than before, but still not 100%. I'm still working on the next arc as well as stubbing out the entire story, but with the huge influx of interest (more favs and followers, yay!) I felt up to churning out a quick chapter and posting it. This is a continuation after Guiche's disastrous duel with our Zulu Squad sarge. I should be able to post part II some time over the weekend. Enjoy!)_

Sgt. Crosby resisted the urge to say "Eyes wide, tango in sight", and raise his left hand clenched in a fist. Unfortunately the persons behind him didn't see his signal for the improvised single file column to freeze and not make a sound. Instead they all collided with each other, and collided with him, knocking him on his stomach. It didn't even knock the wind out of him, but it did ruin their element of surprise if this thief Fourquet was hiding in the shack. He sighed and pushed the tangle of teenagers off his back and pulled himself to his feet. How the hell that old goat Osmond convinced him to allow these stupid kids to tag along with him he would never know. It must have been the magic.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me Mr. Crosby, but could you please accompany me? The Headmaster would like to speak to you."<p>

Crosby shook his head and laughed.

"Get in a fight on the playground and get sent to the principle's office. Now this sounds familiar."

He remembered following Colbert back to the headmaster's office, and seeing Osmond again reminded Crosby of another old wizard he saw in the movies. Hell, this Osmond even had a wooden staff and smoked a pipe. As he removed his helmet and balaclava he noticed he wasn't alone in the headmaster's office, he saw some of the schoolchildren that were present when Louise had summoned him. He recognized the over-endowed redhead, who winked at him.

"Yuck." He thought to himself. Busty or not he was old enough to be her father, and the sight of this teenager acting flirty squicked him out. The other person was a blue-haired bookworm, as he remembered her familiar was the giant blue dragon. He turned back to Osmond.

"Alright, sir, before you launch into the lecture, let me first point out that the stupid brat had it coming."

Osmond stopped puffing on his pipe, removed it, and cocked his head to one side.

"Hmm? Ah, you mean the duel between yourself and Guiche, no that is not the reason you are here. At least not directly. No, the reason you are here is because I am in need of some help, Mr. Crosby. With something which your…unique skillset would be of a great boon."

Crosby assumed 'parade rest'.

"You have my attention, sir. Go ahead."

Osmond stared at the soldier, and then continued.

"An artifact of great power has been stolen from the school vault. We suspect the master thief Fouquet is responsible."

"And what is this 'artifact of great power', sir?"

"It is called the Staff of Destruction. And in the wrong hands it could cause much suffering."

Crosby shook his head.

"Staff of Destruction. Now I've heard everything."

The old headmaster continued.

"This task is of the utmost importance, Mr. Crosby. Will you help me in this regard? Will you track down this Fouquet, retrieve the Staff of Destruction and bring the thief to justice?"

He nodded at once and saluted.

"You can count on me, sir. I'll find this thief and retrieve your magical WMD."

When Osmond looked puzzled the soldier sighed.

"It means Weapon of Mass Destruction, sir."

Comprehension formed on the headmaster's face and he nodded.

"Any leads on where we can find this Fouquet and the 'Staff of Destruction', sir?"

Before Osmond could speak the door flew open revealing the pinkette and her 'familiar' Saito. Louise bowed to Osmond without noticing anyone else in the room.

"I apologize for being late, Headmaster, I was busy disciplining my familiar!"

Osmond smiled.

"It is alright, Louise. I was just telling our guest about the task I am appointing to you all."

That last statement caught Crosby's attention.

"What? You're not seriously thinking of letting these kids tag along, sir?"

Osmond shrugged.

"Why not? They are mages, and you are going up against a thief who is a mage. In spite of your skills and weapons you will need a mage to fight a mage."

The redhead smirked and turned to Louise.

"If we're coming along because of our status as mages, it would probably be best to leave Louise the Zero behind. Unless we want to blow up the thief and the staff of Destruction."

Louise glared at the redhead.

"Shut up Kirche! Nobody asked you to come along, unless you want to suffocate the thief with your breasts."

The redhead called Kirche huffed, flicking her hair and puffing out her already impressive bust.

"Hmph! You're just jealous because you're so flat-chested."

The pinkette seethed, and Crosby swore he saw a blood vessel burst in her forehead. Before she could raise her wand to create some sort of very destructive spell the headmaster intervened.

"Now, now, let us not fight. Especially not in my office."

"And that is precisely why I don't want to be saddled with them, sir."

Osmond turned his attention to the soldier, who gestured to the group.

"With all due respect, sir, they're kids. The fact that they're here at this school means they haven't mastered their magic, Louise here is proof of that."

He ignored the snickering of Kirche and the death glare that the pinkette was giving him. He continued.

"I understand why you want them to come along, but I have to tell you this is a mistake. Their risk as a liability to the mission outweighs any skills they may bring."

"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Crosby, but I must insist they accompany you."

Crosby shook his head with a sigh, but raised no other objections. Considering the matter closed, the headmaster turned to his turned to his assistant, a demure young lady with glasses.

"My assistant Longueville has a contact who resides in a shack deep in the woods. You leave in the morning."

* * *

><p>This brought the former member of Zulu Squad to his current state of mind, a routine retrieval operation suffering from mission creep into playing babysitter to a bunch of squabbling teenagers. Squabbling teenagers who possessed magic. To add insult to injury the only sane member of the group, the secretary, had disappeared as soon as they entered the forest, the last thing she told him before disappearing was that Fouquet would most likely be hiding in or around the shack. His musings were interrupted when he heard muffled yelping by who he thought was Louise.<p>

"Gerroff me, Kirche! You're suffocating me."

Crosby couldn't help but marvel at the ridiculous sight. Louise, in the collision and ensuing fall, had somehow managed to wedge her face in Kirche's cleavage. Crosby didn't bother trying to process what twisted laws of physics permitted such things and nodded to the blue haired girl named Tabitha.

"Help her."

While Tabitha helped Louise dislodge herself from Kirche's marshmallow hell, Crosby helped Saito up. He noticed that the boy couldn't help but stare. He chuckled and clapped him on the back.

"Think about it, kid. When you were back at your old life in Tokyo, did you ever thing you'd see a sight like that?"

The teenager just dumbly shook his head.

"Speaking of which, you might want to close your mouth. It's a good way to catch flies. And God help you if Louise catches you ogling."

He turned back to the others and cleared his throat to get their attention. When he spoke it was in a low but authoritative voice.

"Alright, ladies, listen carefully as I'm only saying this one more time. We are trying, and I may add very loosely say trying, to catch this Fouquet unawares. This means the element of surprise is important. Which is why I use combat hand signals, the most important one is this,"

He held up his free hand, enclosed into a fist.

"…which means come to a complete stop, don't move or make a sound. Got it?"

When they all nodded in accord he continued.

"Now, we have eyes on target, which in this case is the shack. Saito and I are going to be the breaching team, with me going in and Saito covering me. The rest of you form up a perimeter. Questions?"

Louise very timidly raised her hand.

"Mr. Crosby, what is a breaching team?"

The soldier shook his head.

"Not important, that's Saito's and my problem. Anything else?"

Tabitha raised her hand.

"What is a perimeter, sir?"

He stifled a curse.

"Look, the familiar and I are going into the shack, as that is the most likely place the thief is. I want the three of your to stand outside here and look out for any trouble. Okay?"

The three girls nodded once. Crosby shook his head and muttered under his breath.

"Kids."

_(AN: Since I'm taking the first steps in developing Sgt. Crosby as a character, any feedback would be appreciated. I'm trying to make him more human but keeping him in character given his origins. Until the weekend!)_


	5. Damned If You Don't

_(AN: So, I have finally framed out the entire story. There will be about 150 chapters for this story maybe more, maybe less, and it's important to know that I will be glossing over some of the sub-plots of the anime _Familiar of Zero_ that aren't directly relevant to the development of my character. That isn't to say they won't be going on in the background, but as I said before I really don't want to slog through the entire _FOZ_ storyline. The main purpose is to develop my OC and his companions. But my goal is still to try and churn out at least a chapter a week. And if I take a couple of weeks off I will come back to it. I have committed enough resources to this story that I want to see it completed, I've even written the last chapter of this story to make sure I see it done. I appreciate all your interest, trust me, it makes a difference to a writer's morale when he sees hits on the story. Also, I've decided there will be three more characters from _Spec Ops: The Line_ that will crop up. Enjoy!)_

Crosby shook his head.

"Kids. This is the very definition of insanity."

He walked over to Saito, and reached down to pull his backup pistol out of the cross-draw holster on his assault vest.

"Do you know how to shoot one of these, kid?"

Saito stared at the handgun with undisguised interest.

"Sure! Of course I have!"

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"You know what this is?"

"That's an M9 semiautomatic handgun; I shot one just like that in Call of Duty, Modern Warfare! Oh, and I've played Quake a bunch of times."

The soldier sighed.

"Kid, this isn't a video game, this is reality."

He paused as Saito gave him a 'really?' look.

"Well, whatever passes for reality in this weird-verse. My point is, this is not a video game, there are no continues or reload saved games or unlimited lives. And we don't have unlimited ammo, so don't go all rockn'roll on this."

He pulled the slid back to cock it and flicked the little tab at the back by the hammer.

"This racks a round in the chamber, this is the safety. Best thing to do is keep a round in the chamber but keep the hammer down and the safety off. Okay?"

Saito nodded, and Crosby reversed the gripe so the butt of the gun faced Saito and the boy took it.

"Okay, kid. You're my backup. So here's what we're doing. I'm breaching, which means I'm the guy who breaks down the door and secures the room. As backup you're responsible to make sure nobody is trying to ambush us. Think you can handle that?"

With that he pulled his shooting goggles down onto his face and brought P90 up on the ready as he stalked towards the door of the shack. The door looked old and rotted, so no breaching charges would be needed. He caught Saito's attention and counted down from five on his fingers and then kicked the door in. Quickly he secured the room, which was empty. There was an old dusty box, it too was empty. Crosby felt in his gut that something was wrong. He then heard a scream outside.

"Shit, quick! Get out, target is outside!"

As Crosby rushed outside he was greeted by another bizarre sight. A golem made of dirt, that looked to be the size of a small building with a female figure riding on its head. She was shooting bolts of energy from her wand and was clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle in the other, and hadn't noticed either the soldier or Saito. As Crosby scanned the killzone he noticed that Louise was pinned down behind a tree, and her cover was rapidly diminishing with each bolt from the thief's wand.

"Saito, when I give you the signal I want you to run over there and get Louise out of the line of fire and find some cover!"

"What signal?"

He patted his gun. Saito nodded. Crosby set his sights on the thief and opened fire. Because of the range his three round burst went wide and detonated on the golem's 'head'. But it had effect he wanted. The thief turned her attention to Crosby and in his peripheral vision he saw Saito running off towards the pinkette. Quickly he turned his attention to his enemy.

"So, Mr. Crosby, you found my shack, perhaps you can tell me how this staff of destruction works? Maybe I will spare you and the students if you tell me."

Crosby looked shocked.

"Longueville? You're the thief?"

The secretary turned thief threw her head back and laughed.

"Yes, I am Fouquet, and now that I have the Staff of Destruction it makes all those years of working for that lecherous old goat worth it. Now, you will tell me how to wield the staff or I will kill these students."

He glared at her.

"Not happening lady, but I'll give you a counter-offer. You leave the Staff of Destruction and I'll let you leave with your life."

He was edging closer to the blue-haired, who was taking cover behind a large boulder. He made eye contact with her and mouthed 'dragon', hoping she would understand to summon Sylphid, her wind dragon familiar. She nodded, and the soldier turned his attention back to Fouquet, who was fortunately was still laughing.

"Very well, then you all die!"

She hurled a bolt of energy towards Crosby, but he ducked before it connected to the ground. He unleashed another 3 round burst at the thief, but the shots were deflected by the golem. He cursed as he was force to dodge yet another attack. He took cover behind a tree. At this rate he would run out of ammo before Fouquet ran out of golem. For the first time since his arrival Crosby wished he something more powerful. Briefly he thought back to Dubai, and was ruing the fact that he didn't take the SCAR-H assault rifle when gearing up. Not only would it have more range, but that grenade would make short work of the dirt golem. His thoughts were interrupted as the tree trunk was splintered by another attack from the thief.

"You cannot hide from me forever, you pathetic commoner!"

He looked up and shocked yet again by what he saw. That makes for three times, he thought. What she was holding wasn't some runed staff or ornate spear, as he had visualized it from Osmond's description. It was a grenade launcher, a M32 MGL grenade launcher, just like the ones they had in Dubai. He wasn't particularly worried about the thief using it. For one thing, she was holding it upside down. And for another he could see a large blue dragon rapidly approaching the golem from behind. He sprinted from the ruined tree to the large boulder where Tabitha was and ducked. There was an immense crash as the dragon collided with the golem, knocking it off balance and sending the thief and the grenade launcher to the ground. Before Fouquet could recover he vaulted over the boulder and grabbed it.

"NO! Give that back! Golem, kill that man and get me that staff!"

The golem turned its attention from the dragon familiar to Crosby and started advancing on him. Quickly he leveled the grenade launcher at the golem and fired three quick shots. The grenades detonated on the golem's head and chest, and kicked up a huge cloud of dust. When it cleared, all that was left was two large legs that were rapidly crumbling. Crosby allowed himself a satisfied smile and turned his attention to his new weapon. He thumbed the release pin and the weapon opened up to reveal the 6-shot cylinder. All but one of the grenades had been fired. He pulled the live grenade out and examined it. Never mind how the weapon got here, it had been fired at least two times before. A scream caught his attention, and he looked up and cursed.

Fouquet had recovered and was holding Louise with the tip of her wand against the pinkette's throat. He wasn't sure how wands worked, but he was certain that whatever she was threatening to do would be lethal. The thief shouted at him.

"Give me that weapon or the girl dies!"

He glared at her as he approached with the weapon in the air.

"Are you sure you want to do this, lady? This isn't some toy, or even a wand like what you're used it."

The thief threw her head back and laughed.

"Now that you've demonstrated how to wield it, yes, I am most interested."

"Then catch!"

He tossed the weapon in the air and it had the desired twofold effect. First, she took her eyes off him and looked up, and second she released Louise to catch the grenade launcher. Crosby grabbed the pinkette by the elbow and half shoved half threw her over by the boulder where Tabitha was hiding. Securing Louise cost him precious seconds as he fumbled to bring his submachine gun to bear.

Too late. The thief already had the weapon pointed at him, and this time she was holding it correctly and had her finger in the trigger guard. She pulled the trigger and- nothing. She looked down at the weapon.

"But, how-"

She looked up in time to see a gloved fist coming at her face.

"Bitch."

Crosby advanced on the thief as she lay on the ground dazed. He picked up the weapon.

"This isn't a magic staff of destruction, you stupid bitch. This is a weapon, a weapon that fires projectiles called ammunition," he held up the last grenade in his other hand.

"Ammunition that has to be reloaded," he thumbed the catch and placed the grenade in the empty slot. He pointed it at Fouquet, who was now quaking with fear.

"Now, it is can be fired."

"Wait!"

Louise and Tabitha came out from behind the boulder. Louise pulled at his elbow.

"We can't kill her! We were supposed to bring her in."

"That all changed when she tried to kill us with that over-sized dirt clod. Hell, she was going to kill you for this weapon."

Fouquet was losing it and shook her head vehemently.

"No! No! I didn't intend to hurt her, I just wanted the weapon! There are powerful persons who would give a fortune for it."

Crosby pushed his goggles back and glared at her.

"Then why try to kill me with it?"

She wilted under his glare.

"Crosby-san."

The soldier turned to see Saito and Kirche approach.

"We were to arrest her and recover the staff, not kill her."

"Kid, in my world when an opponent uses deadly force against you then you have the right to use deadly force right back."

He looked back at the thief, who was close to hysterics.

"True, Crosby-san. But we are not in our world anymore. You told me you weren't a war criminal. And she tried to kill you, which means you would be justified in killing her when she was armed. But killing an unarmed opponent is murder."

There was a long minute that passed as emotions boiled through Crosby's mind. His anger at the thief's cowardice for trying to kill schoolkids and thirst for vengeance seethed at him to pull the trigger. Then he heard an echo of a voice, a feminine voice.

_**"You are still a good person."**_

It was the Lady's voice. Once again the soothing voice cut through his anger as it continued.

_**"To kill for vengeance is murder. You don't want to be a murderer, _**You deserve to be a hero in this tapestry.**_"**_

All this went through his mind in the span of that long minute. He sighed and lowered his weapon. He handed the weapon to Saito.

"No, you're right kid. I've been called a murderer enough times in my life. I don't want to start earning that title."

He saw that Fouquet was starting to crawl away and he grabbed her by the wrists. His own large hands enclosed her much smaller hands, and there was a sickening crack, followed by a piercing shriek. Saito and the three girls looked on horrified as the thief fell to the ground again whimpering. Crosby took the grenade launcher back from Saito.

"If she can't hold a wand she can't hurt us. I disarmed her. Speaking of which."

He held out his hand. Saito was still staring off into the distance. Crosby irritatedly snapped his fingers, which jolted the boy back to reality. He took the M9 pistol out of his waistband and handed it back to the soldier.

"I didn't even get a chance to fire it."

"Be grateful kid. Some soldiers go their entire lives without discharging their weapon in a combat situation. And they're the lucky ones. C'mon let's get this thieving bitch back to the school."

_(AN: Yeah, that was a bit brutal. And truth be told I'm not very happy with how the fight turned out. I have a newfound respect for the folks on this site who write kickass combat sequences. I struggled. By the way, due to the interest I will say that you have not seen the last of Walker and Adams.)_


	6. Damn Close

_(I've wrestled with this chapter for almost two days since I finished it. I wasn't happy with certain parts of it so I edited it out. When you get there you'll probably see what I edited.)_

Sgt. Crosby frowned at the pinkette.

"Say what?"

"I said when was the last time you washed?" She wrinkled her nose. "You smell worse than my familiar, and he's smells like a manure pile."

Saito, who was sitting on his straw bed in the corner tried to protest but the sergeant beat him to it.

"So?"

"So, he's a dog, but you're the guard and guards shouldn't smell bad."

"Hey, I'm right here you know!"

She ignored her familiar and stood up from her desk. After returning with the thief Fouquet and the 'Staff of Destruction' the headmaster had taken it and and requested one of Crosby's magazines from his P90. When asked why Osmond cryptically told him that he would tell everything about it in the morning. From there he followed Louise and Saito back to her room, where the discussion of hygiene cropped up.

"Listen, I concede that I don't smell like a bouquet of roses, but where I came from there was a huge shortage of water, and stuff like showers or baths were considered an unnecessary luxury."

The pinkette walked up and pointed to Crosby.

"I order you to take time off and wash yourself!"

He snorted.

"I only take orders from my superiors, not from some loudmouthed little pipsqueak."

As she flushed and pulled out her wand in a threatening manner, Saito quickly spoke up.

"I will show Crosby-san to the bathing facilities!"

The teenager quickly ushered the sergeant out of Louise's room before situation escalated. As the made their way outside Crosby discretely did a pit-check. Ugh, he really did smell bad. Then again, he honestly couldn't remember the last time he showered. Saito took him down to the kitchen, where the cook was busy preparing food for the next day.

"Ah, our Hammer and Sword have come! Welcome!"

Saito saw the odd look on Crosby's face.

"What did he just call us?"

The heavyset bearded chef grinned.

"You two were the ones who stood up to that insufferable brat Guiche, yes? So you stand up for us peasants!"

The soldier chuckled humorlessly.

"She did say I would become a hero. Guess that's what she meant."

The chef looked puzzled.

"Who?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Not important, so kid why did you bring me to the kitchen?"

Saito turned back to Chef Marteau.

"Do you have it?"

"Why, yes I do. I was going to throw them out, but if you can use them."

The chef pulled a large cauldron out of a cupboard. Saito took them.

"Do you know what we can do with these?"

Saito said as he showed them to the sergeant, who scratched his stubble.

"We're going to boil that loudmouthed brat in oil and make her into a stew, then serve it to the other nobles as a gesture of defiance?"

The teenager stared at Crosby.

"…"

"I was just kidding. We're going to use these pots to wash with?"

Saito nodded.

"Yup, it's about time you got to try out a traditional Japanese bath."

It was Crosby's turn to stare at Saito. He turned back to the chef.

"Do you have another pot? That cauldron ain't big enough for the two of us."

* * *

><p><strong> (a short time later, in the courtyard)<strong>

Crosby had to admit it. The kid was right, the Japanese did know how to bath. He recalled back in Dubai that he once vowed never to waste water on a shower again. Now, he thought he could get used to bathing. Maybe even every night. He leaned out of the cauldron to check the fire that was heating the water, and did a perimeter check. The courtyard was empty, and it was nighttime so there was very little chance of anyone barging in on them.

He nodded over to Saito who was occupying the other cauldron next to him.

"You were right, kid. This is the way to relax."

He left his armor and clothes with Siesta, after securing his weapons in the kitchen cupboard that was lockable, and instructing Marteau that no one was to go near it. He felt very naked being unarmed. He felt very naked anyways, wearing just his army-issued boxer briefs, but at least there was nobody around.

"Where did you get that tattoo?"

Saito pointed to the soldier's left forearm. It was a highly stylized skull with a fanged mouth and sporting a pair of horns. The numbers 33rd were on it.

"That's the unofficial symbol of the 'Damned 33rd.' Everyone in my unit got one just before our deployment to Afghanistan."

He reached over to the improvised end table and grabbed one of the two tankards.

"I don't know how they make this stuff, but it beats Diet Coors any day."

Saito shrugged and took his.

"It's not as good as Sapporo. But it'll do."

Crosby took a drink and glanced over the teenager.

"You're not even eighteen, kid. How do you know what beer is supposed to taste like?"

Saito took another drink and shrugged.

"It's not as strict over there, if you're careful. And besides, they sell beer in vending machines."

"Really?"

"Yep. So anyone can buy beer. The key is not to get caught."

Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Crosby reached for a gun that wasn't there and cursed under his breath. False alarm. Chef Marteau approached them carrying a large stoneware pitcher.

"Here is some more ale for our Hammer and Sword!"

He turned to Crosby.

"The maid Siesta said that your clothes have been cleaned are being dried as we speak."

"And my gear?"

Marteau gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"They are safely locked in my private cupboard, not to worry, my friend."

* * *

><p>Siesta walked though the corridor that led from the servant's quarters to the 'Wind' section of the academy. She had finished washing Saito and Mr. Crosby's strange garments and was carrying them in a basket. Dreamily she thought how brave he and Saito were for catching Fouquet. She was dreaming so much that she collided with a tall redhead and fell to the floor with a yelp.<p>

"Oh, Miss Zerbst, I am so sorry for running into you, I will strive not to do that again!"

Kirche chuckled good-heartedly.

"Think nothing of it, have you see that familiar of Louise around? She was looking for him."

Siesta nodded.

"Oh, yes! Him and Mr. Crosby were taking a bath in the Wind courtyard."

"A bath, in the Wind courtyard, you say?"

There was a feral grin on the redhead's face as she licked her lips. She looked down and saw the basket full of clothes.

"Those are their clothes?"

* * *

><p>"…Took weeks to flush them out. I'm telling you kid, I hope you never have to have the pleasure of sharing a hooch with sand fleas. Hell I remember in Iraq we had one guy in my unit who tried to burn his foot off trying to relieve the itch."<p>

Crosby's reflections on the less glamorous aspects of base life in occupied Iraq were interrupted by a third voice.

"Oooh, a bath! How wonderful, I was just thinking of taking one!"

Kirche Zerbst approached and set a basket of clothes by the tree. Then to the soldier's horror she started to remove her clothes.

"Ah, you know what, I was just finishing up, Saito over here could use some company."

He started to get out, and reach for his trousers. He could feel the redhead's eyes on him.

"It's not polite to stare, kid." He said without turning around. "Trust me, you don't want to look at this old war horse's battered carcass."

Kirche took in his muscular back and sunburned chest crisscrossed with multiple scars.

"Mmmm," She said, "I should have brought my saddle. I could ride a war horse."

The soldier shuddered.

"Look, I'm old enough to be your father, why don't you chat up Saito here, he's more your age."

Saito was in agreement, the teenager's eyes had glazed over as of the point that Kirche was removing her clothes. Crosby wasn't. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen outside a strip club.

"Yess," Saito said in a far-off voice, "Why don't you join me."

Kirche turned her attention to the familiar and leaped at the chance. Literally. The sergeant didn't spend too much time wondering how she could leap that high in the air **_and_** disrobe at the same time. As of the point she was distracted he pulled on his undershirt and started lacing up his boots.

He was impressed. Siesta did an excellent job of cleaning his clothes. She even managed somehow to get all the sand and grit out of his vest and even the cushioned lining of his helmet. He was carrying the basket that held the rest of his gear. He didn't bother getting fully kitted since he planned on crashing as soon as he made it back to the kitchen. He had left Saito happily enjoying the company of Kirche, he figured the kid needed a break.

Crosby himself was exhausted. After taking that hot bath all he wanted to do was go to sleep. In the kitchen he checked the cupboard where his P90, Desert Eagle and M9 handgun were stowed, and they were undisturbed. Satisfied, he took his boots off and laid down on the cot. This was heaven. A temporary reprieve that was interrupted by a shrill scream that could have shattered a pyramid of champagne flutes. He sat bolt upright pointing his M9 at the source of the noise, then sighed. Sleep, it would appear, would have to wait. He looked down at his vest and helmet.

**(In Louise's Room)**

Louise furiously beat her familiar with her whip. She went out looking for him, concerned for his well-being, and he found him taking a bath with Kirche. That tramp Kirche! And the over-busted hussy had the gall to insult her own breast size in front of her familiar, no less!

"Dog! Disobedient! Dog!"

She brought the crop down, only to see it not in her hands anymore. She stared down and looked around, only to see the guard Mr. Crosby holding it.

Crosby was tired, and very irritable. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to copping forty winks of non-nightmare laden sleep, only to find this pink-haired brat abusing Saito. So what if he was sharing a cauldron with Kirche? If she was jealous, she should say so. Abuse was something he wouldn't tolerate.

"Give that back!" Louise nearly screeched.

"No."

That took her by surprise, and for a moment she forgot her volcanic anger at her perverted familiar.

"What?"

"You hard of hearing? I said 'No'. As in the opposite of 'Yes'."

She angrily tried to grab it out of his hand, he just held his hand higher. She tried jumping to get at it, to no avail.

"Give that back! Give it back! Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!"

The sight was quite comical out of context, the short pinkette jumping up trying to snatch the whip out of the hand of the much taller Sgt. Crosby. It made the room's newest occupant burst out laughing at the sight. Both Louise and Crosby stopped to stare at the newcomer. It was a beautiful young lady with purple hair wearing a green cloak.

"Louise, my dear! It is good to see you, but what on earth are you doing?"

Louise's heart sank.

"Henrietta?"

_(AN: Well, let's just say I had written a lot more detail into the encounter of Saito and Kirche, as well as Louise catching them in the act. I decided to cut it out because 1. It sucked (lemon, get it?) and was badly written and 2. I'm really didn't want to bump the rating up again. I've got nothing against lemon fics, it's just they have to be written a very specific way. And putting lemons in your fic is a bit like feeding a Tribble, they multiply. Anyways, I broke down and rented the first season of _F0Z_ on DVD, and saw just how wrong I got the steps leading up to the duel and the first day. Oh well, serves me right for jumping in and not doing the research. I'm splitting up Chapter 9 into 2 parts since I still have the dress ball and the princess's mission. Hopefully I'll have it up by Wednesday, but we'll see. I have another chapter of the 3 characters from _Spec Ops: The Line_ which I'll put up tomorrow once I've finished proofreading it. In the meantime thanks for all the hits and reviews! Be sure to comment on anything you like or don't like!)_


	7. The Great Escape

_(AN: DunDunDUuun! Here are three more characters from Spec Ops: The Line...enjoy!)_

The silence of the sand-swept vista of ruined downtown Dubai was broken by the roar of helicopter engines and the sound of blades cutting through the air. A battered Blackhawk chopper weaved past the remains of the radio tower, with a flock of AH-J "Little Birds" in hot pursuit.

"Bravo Two Actual this is Bravo Six, we have eyes on Tango, permission to engage!"

Lt. Bowles shouted into his mic. A voice came in over the static.

_"Bravo Six this is Brave Two Actual, you have permission to engage. Take that fucker out!"_

He was chasing down the Blackhawk piloted by that crazy maniac Captain Walker. After murdering the radioman Robert Darden in cold blood, they had hijacked the chopper and demolished the building. Who the hell demolished a tower, treating the firepower on the chopper as if this was some kind of video game? Now his door gunner had spotted them weaving through the highrises of ruined downtown Dubai.

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Bravo Three go down in flames colliding with an abandoned crane. He shook his head. He knew the pilot, a loudmouth named Torrez, who fancied himself a poet. Had four kids back home and bragged up his family. He once asked Torrez why he had so many kids. The man's answer was simple and crude.

"Because my wife is fucking hot, dude!"

He was pulled out of his reverie by the door gunner's voice in his headset.

_"I have the chopper in my sights, should I take the engine out?"_

His door gunner was a taciturn sniper who didn't have a name tape, but answered to 'Joe.' He was the sole survivor of the cadre of snipers who engaged Walker's team on the rooftops before they raided the Radioman's tower. Understandably, he didn't talk much. Bowles shook his head. He met Joe once before the mission, the kid looked like he was about 15, but his eyes, his eyes were empty. He looked over his shoulder at the sniper. Right now the kid's face was covered in a scarf and ghillie suit.

"Do you have eyes on Walker?"

_"Negative, but I can take out the engine and send those bastards to hell, sir."_

Bowles thought for a minute.

"Do not take the shot unless it's to take out Walker. Our kill orders are for Walker and only Walker, and to disable the chopper and take Lugo and Adams alive if possible. If we destroy the chopper outright the other two die."

_"With all due respect, sir, those two bastards killed my buds as well."_

Joe's voice was quivering with anger. Bowles shook his head and spoke into his mike.

"Orders, Joe. According to our intel, the ones called Adams and Lugo are Walker's subordinates, and as such they were following his orders. You can't damn a guy for following orders."

Otherwise we'd all be damned, he thought.

"Do not take the shot unless it's a killshot on Walker."

Joe said nothing but squawked his radio to acknowledge. Another explosion occurred at his 10 o'clock. Bravo 1 went down, with some unlucky soul falling to his death. He could see Walker firing the minigun through a skyscraper to shoot at Bravo 4. Bowles hoped that no civilians were still squatting in that ruined high-rise, and for the umpteenth time wondered what sort of sick fuck was this Captain Walker. He had to think that Walker was operating under orders from higher up. Nobody would be this crazy unless they were following orders. His musings were interrupted by his co-pilot.

"Sir, there's another sandstorm coming up. Looks pretty hairy."

He keyed his mic to the command channel.

"Bravo Two Actual this is Bravo Six, we have a sandstorm inbound, what are your orders?"

There was a slight pause on the other end.

_"All units still in the air, disengage, I repeat disengage Tango and return to base. We've lost a lot of our boys today, I'm not letting the sandstorm take anymore. Let the sandstorm take that son of a bitch."_

Bowles clenched his jaw.

"Sir, we still have eyes on Tango and with respect I'm not letting him go. I will take him out before the sandstorm hits."

There was a long pause.

_"Lt. Bowles I know you want to take Walker down, but it's not worth throwing your life away."_

"Sir, if we don't take him out, he could do a lot of damage with the firepower on that chopper. He could kill more people. I can't let that happen, sir."

Another long pause.

_"Alright, Bravo Six you are authorized for limited engagement. But you disengage the minute that storm hits, otherwise I'll park your ass in a sling right after I throw it in the brig, do you read me?"_

Bowles grinned.

"Solid copy, Bravo Two Actual. Bravo Six out."

He pushed the control stick forward and the "Little Bird" pitched forward as it accelerated. At the rate the Blackhawk was weaving it was almost impossible to get a solid bead on the chopper, and he struggled to keep up. Then a cloud of sand started to fill the windscreen.

"Shit! The sandstorm is already on us!"

He spoke up to his co-pilot.

"How are the engines holding up?"

"Oil Pressure is steady, engine temperature is rising but we're still in the green. Wait, you're not actually thinking about following this crazy bastard into the sandstorm?"

He paused in thought.

"Negative. I'm not risking it. Like Crosby said, let the sandstorm kill him."

_"With respect, sir."_ The door gunner's voice butted in. _"I have that bastard in my sights, if you give me like 60 more seconds I'll tag him."_

"You sure you can take the shot? Even in this storm?"

_"Affirmative, sir. Just one minute is all I need."_

Bowles looked over to his co-pilot and saw him nod.

"Alright Joe, you better take the bastard down. And the clock's ticking, you've got 50 seconds."

Winds buffeted the small chopper and Bowles fought to keep the craft steady and not collide with the ruined buildings. Then they were almost on top of Walker's chopper. They were so close that Bowles could see Walker manning the minigun. He could also see, even through the sand at this distance, the crazy look in Walker's eyes. He had definitely let go of the rope, lost cabin pressure, pick your cliché.

_"Taking the shot."_

Then a hail of bullets ricocheted off the Little Bird's airframe.

"Shit! We're taking fire!"

Bowles jerked the joystick to the right and veered their chopper away from the line of tracer fire. But a klaxon filling the cabin told him the damage was already done.

"Shit! Losing oil pressure!"

Bowles tried to keep his cool. He had crash landed a chopper before and even walked away from the crash. The key was to keep cool and not panic.

"Slowly cut power to the engines, I'm going to try and keep it steady."

Then another wind sheer hit them, and shook the Little Bird like a leaf in a whirlwind. The wounded craft started to spin like a top.

"Losing control! Hang on!"

He barely was able to steer the chopper away from one of the buildings, but as they cleared it he saw a large shape fill the windscreen. It was Walker's chopper. In that brief moment before they collided, Bowles didn't curse or panic. In fact, part of him was at peace.

"This is Bravo Six going down…"

"…but we're taking him with us." Was his last thought.

At least Dubai would be safe from that crazy bastard.

Bowles felt nothing, and then he was surrounded by a white light.

**_"Lieutenant Timothy Bowles, the boy whose dreams reached the skies, the poet who wanted to fly."_**

He looked around but couldn't see the source of the voice, aside from the face that it was feminine.

"Who are you? Is this Heaven?"

It seemed as if the speaker smiled.

**_"No, it isn't. But you are not in the Dark Realm, either. You are here because there is a Tapestry that requires a new pattern, and your thread can alter the pattern for the better. And if you will accomplish this task, I will grant you your wish."_**

"What wish is that, ma'am?"

**_"I will grant you peace."_**

He didn't even need to vocalize his response, he nodded. Suddenly he felt a surge through his incorporeal body followed by a flash of bright green light.

-And then he was back on his pilot chair. The Little Bird was flying as before. He looked over to his co-pilot, who had a glazed look on his face.

"Um, Tebby, did you just see a bright white light?"

The co-pilot jolted out of his reverie and looked over to Bowles.

"I…I saw a beautiful lady with green hair. She told me things, things that I thought only I knew. Then she said that I could help, and if I did she would give me something."

Bowles looked out the windscreen. It was clear they weren't in Dubai anymore. They were flying over a lush forest, above them were puffy cumulus clouds and clear blue sky.

_"This is nuts."_

The door gunner spoke up.

"What did she tell you, Joe?"

_"I don't want to talk about it."_

He scanned the gauges on the cockpit panel and tapped the fuel indicator.

"Well, something is screwy because we were running on fumes before, now it shows a full tank."

Joe interrupted.

_"Sir, with respect, we crashed. We shouldn't even be here."_

The conversation was interrupted by a ping on the chopper's radar. Tebby spoke up.

"We have an inbound bogey, sir. It's coming up on our six and coming in hot. That puts it going at least 160 knots."

"Well we don't know if it's hostile so let's not get trigger-happy."

Then something flashed past the windscreen. Tebby was craning his neck to the right, trying to look out his side window.

"Did you see that? Shit that thing can move!"

_"Um, guys?"_ The door gunner's voice piped up.

"I think I spotted our bogey, and you're not gonna believe this."

"Private, we just crashed, died, visited with some incorporeal woman and are magically transported to a place that is clearly not Dubai. I think I can suspend my disbelief."

_"It's a dragon, sir."_

"A what?"

_"It's a flying dragon, sir. And it's blue."_

Bowles was trying to process what he just heard when Tebby broke his train of thought.

"Sir, I'm picking up an IFF signal, it's weak, but if I get close enough I should be able to triangulate it."

"Roger that. For now, let's find a place near civilization and try to get our bearings."

Tebby spoke up.

"I'm seeing a smaller village or something about 5 klicks to the west, that might be a good start."

After listening to her friend and Louise fight after capturing Fouquet, Charlotte, aka Tabitha, opted to return to the academy via her familiar. She offered to give Mr. Crosby a ride back, but he declined, saying that he needed to keep an eye on Louise and her familiar. And Kirche said she wanted to keep an eye on Louise's familiar, too. And that started the fight.

Her musings were interrupted when something caught her eye in the distance. It was a small airship, but instead of windstones it was held aloft by several blades. Slyphid flew past it and was in no mood to get any closer, so by the time she reached the academy, she had completely forgotten about it.

_(AN: Soooo, yeah we get three more guys from _Spec Ops: The Line_. In case you were wondering, yeah I based "Joe the Sniper" after the one sniper you see in the loading screens for _Spec Ops: The Line_. If you're curious to see all the different loading screens look it up on youtube, it's pretty cool. Anyways, these guys aren't going to be introduced right away, but when they become relevant to the plot. Yeah, I'm doing a bit of a handwave by saying that the 33__rd__ are just trying to disable Walker's chopper versus shooting it down. And I know that in Chapter 12 of the game they're shooting missiles at Walker's chopper but my reasoning is that the second time around Walker is basically cloudcuckoolander and hallucinating. My rationale is I don't care how good a shot you are or how mad skilled you as a chopper driver, if you're surrounded by 6 or 8 fully armed Little Birds, if those guys want to kill you you're toast. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this little tidbit.)_


	8. Damn Close, Part Deux

_(AN: So here's the second part of Damn Close!)_

Crosby facepalmed. Even he, not current on the whole 'noble' and 'peasant' crap knew what Saito did was a bad idea. The girl with the purple hair (seriously, what the hell is up with all the weird hair colors?) who answered to Henrietta, who was also princess as well as a BFF of Louise, had just finished bestowing knighthood to Louise and him, and then exhorting him to be a bodyguard to her best friend. Then she went to bestow a favor to Saito, and said that a kiss was in order. The kid then proceeded to kiss the princess on the lips.

For what it was worth the princess didn't seem to mind, she just seemed to be in a daze. The volcano known as Mt. St. Louise was about to erupt. Before she could do anything, Crosby grabbed her in a bear hug, pulling her off her feet and holding her under one arm. He turned back to the boy, who had this 'what did I do wrong' look on his face.

"Kid, now's a good time to flee, I don't know how long I can hold this girl before she kills you."

Saito was smart enough to heed Crosby's orders and quickly left Louise's room, leaving him with a furious pinkette and a dazed princess.

"Unhand me this instant! I order you to release me!"

"No."

"What?!"

"We've been through this before, Louise. 'No' as in the opposite of 'Yes.' As in I'm not letting you go until you've cooled off."

"Why?!"

"So you don't accidently kill your familiar or blow up half the school in the process."

"And she has, too!"

They both turned back and saw the princess standing, and seemingly regained her regal composure.

"I've heard that Louise causes more damage to the school than any enemy of Tristainia has. Please, dear, don't worry. Your familiar meant no harm by his actions."

"I still want to beat that mangy cur dog uncouth dog of a worthless familiar within an inch of his life for that disgrace!"

"Once again my lady," Crosby said the words dripping with sarcasm, "I'm not letting you go until you promise me not to beat up Saito. He's just a kid. Now, I'm going to let you go because my arms are getting tired, and we're going to have a civil discourse about disciplining familiars that don't involve bodily violence, alright?"

Louise nodded and he set her down. He wasn't kidding about his arms being tired. As soon as the pinkette's feet touched the floor she sprang into action, whipping out her wand and pointing it at him. Not quick enough for the sergeant to snatch it out of her hand before she could get an incantation off. She tried to grab it, and he held it out of her reach. She grabbed her riding crop and tried to hit him with it, and he took that as well.

"You know, I'm getting a case of déjà vu all over again, your highness."

Crosby addressed Henrietta as he ignored Louise's attempts to re-acquire her wand and whip. The princess giggled at the sight of her friend's pathetic attempts to jump up and down to reach the soldier's outstretched hand.

Finally in frustration Louise tried climbing up Crosby's vest to reach her wand. He held her back with his free hand. Just before it got to the hair-pulling and biting phase Henriette cleared her throat. That caught Louise's attention.

"Louise, dear really this is undignified. And I haven't seen you in forever, why don't you come and sit with me and catch up?"

She nodded once, and hopped off Crosby's back. She turned back to him.

"Go, Sir Bodyguard, and fetch me my cowardly familiar and bring him back here to apologize to her highness."

"As my lady commands, I obey," Crosby said with a flourishing bow, "But only on one condition."

She almost started another argument but it was cut off by Henrietta.

"What is your condition, Sir Robert of Crosby?"

"Louise has to promise not to abuse Saito."

"What? He is my familiar and I need to discipline him, otherwise he will be disobedient and unruly!"

"Fine, I get it. Without discipline everything goes to crap. You're preaching to the choir. But promise me, on your word as a noble, that you will henceforth not use excessive force on your familiar."

He paused.

"You do know what excessive force is, right?"

Louise huffed.

"Fine! I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc, of the House of La Vallière, on my word as a noble promise not to murder my familiar, lowly dog though he may be and deserving it."

That satisfied the sergeant.

"Good, now if your highness and lady will excuse me, I have a familiar to track."

With that he left the two girls to chat in Louise's room, and started down the hall. He checked his watch. 22:30. He sighed. At this rate he might not get to bed until past midnight. He had an early morning meeting with Osmond and he had a feeling it was going to be another long day. He passed a student in the hallway and noticed it was the blue-haired girl with the dragon familiar.

"Tabitha?"

She looked up from her book.

"Yes, Mr. Crosby?"

"Have you seen Saito? Louise's familiar?"

She looked back to her book.

"Yes, last I saw he was being carried off by Flame."

Crosby cocked his head to one side.

"Flame?"

"Yes, a fire salamander. Flame is Kirche's familiar."

The soldier did a take as the pieces fell into place.

"Oh crap." He said to himself.

"Where is Miss Zerbst's room, Tabitha?"

The blue haired girl pointed down the hallway.

"Down that hallway, up the flight of stairs, second door on your left."

He nodded and started off in that direction. With any luck he would get there before anything bad happened. He sprinted past a floating eyeball and almost tripped over the first year student with blonde hair on the stairs. He arrived at Kirche's room and opened the door.

Her room was as lavish as Louise's except there were rose petals strewn everywhere and candles lit. Kirche was in the middle of the room, wearing what he guessed was the mage equivalent of a negligée and was cuddling Saito. In spite of the situation Crosby couldn't help but grin. The kid had this dreamy far off expression on his face. The redhead finally noticed the soldier standing in her doorway.

"Oh, it's my old war horse! Well I'm sorry but I'm booked for the evening. Saito darling and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Unfinished business?"

"Yes, we were having such a wonderful time in that kettle before we were so rudely interrupted by that Louise the Zero. But you're welcome to stop tomorrow night!"

"Ah, riiight. About Louise, she kind of sent me to fetch him, so if you don't mind…"

She stood up abruptly, and Saito fell to the floor in a daze.

"That little flat-chested Tristainian brat is not going to ruin my evening!"

Crosby knelt down beside Saito and waved a hand in front of his face. The kid was still out of it.

"Hellooo? Mission Control to Saito, snap out of it!"

It was having some sort of an effect, and the teenager's eyes focused.

"Crosby-san?"

"We need to get the hell out of here, stat!"

He stared at the soldier.

"Are you kidding me? This beautiful girl is throwing herself at me and you want me to leave?"

"Yep."

Saito gestured to Kirche, who had taken a seat on her bed and making very provocative poses.

"You. Want me. To leave that behind."

"Once again, if you value your life, yes."

He looked at the soldier and replied sarcastically.

"Did you ever go through puberty, Crosby-san, or did you skip straight from grammar school to boot camp?"

Crosby ignored the barb and continued.

"Let me draw you a picture, kid. She's about this tall," he gestured to his waist, "has pink hair, speaks in a high pitched voice, has the destructive magical ability of a low-yield nuclear bomb, and a hair-trigger temper."

"Don't forget that she is a Zero with magic, darling."

Kirche had snuck up on Saito and wedged his face into her bosom. The soldier shook his head. This was not his evening.

"Kid, do you have any idea what that pink-haired psychotic pipsqueak is going to do to you if she catches you in a compromising position with Miss Zerbst?"

"She is going to kill her mangy cur of a familiar!"

Crosby groaned at the new voice and turned around. There was Louise, looking like she was about to blow a gasket. He swore he could see steam coming out of her ears.

"Remember, Louise, you promised!"

"I promised not to kill him, that was before I found him in the arms of THAT TRAMP KIRCHE!"

She screeched the last part so loud it made the fillings in Crosby's teeth ache. He threw up his hands and stepped past the pinkette.

"Fine, whatever."

This was not what she expected him to say. She stared at the soldier as he walked past her, but quickly recovered and continued directing her death glare at her familiar. Saito was fighting a rising panic.

"Wait, Crosby-san! Where are you going?"

Crosby paused in the doorway.

"Bed. It's late, I'm tired and I've a feeling tomorrow's going to be another long day."

"Wait, please help! She's going to kill me!"

The soldier started to walk away and said over his shoulder.

"You've shit the bed, now you gotta lie in it."

He ignored the screeching of Louise and the cries of help from Saito. In fact, when he got to his cot in the kitchen, he was so tired he didn't even bother with his boots, but fell right asleep. He even slept through what sounded like a MOAB going off in the vicinity of Kirche's room.

_(for those who don't know MOAB is, it's a GBU-43 Massive Ordinance Air Blast, also known as the 'Mother of All Bombs". Check it out on youtube for a massive blast. _

_Hahaha, wow, I'm slinging some real dynamite jokes tonight. _

_*crickets*_

_Jeez, everyone's a critic these days. Yeah, so remember when I said I would do Chapter 9 in two parts? I meant three. But in fairness I should churn out the third part in the next couple of days. Until then!)_


	9. All That You Can Be

The soldier had no alarm clock but his internal one that woke him up like clockwork every morning at 0600. He stretched and had forgotten that he was so tired the previous night that he slept in his boots. As he stretched he heard one of the servants talking about some destruction in the second year dorm area. Apparently, he had slept through a particularly epic tantrum of Louise that resulted in half the Wind tower being blown apart.

He ignored all that as he made his way to one of the courtyards for his morning calisthenics.

As jogged around the perimeter of the courtyard his thoughts drifted back to the odd dreams he had the previous night. That night he dreamed about the green-haired lady in the white light. Except that she was sitting on the table by his cot in the kitchen. She spoke in that same, soft voice.

**_"So, how does the hero like his new tale?"_**

"It's nice. Could be better with indoor plumbing. But it's a nice change of pace from where I came from."

She giggled and cupped a delicate hand onto her chin.

**_"Every new tale has its own challenges. It is important to enjoy the small moments of comfort that come your way. For it will not always be this easy. There is a conflict brewing on the horizon."_**

Crosby had started to become angry.

"Hey, come on! I thought you told me I was done with war and fighting and death."

If the lady was offended at his outburst she didn't show it, but smiled at him as if he had just told a particularly funny joke.

**_"I told you I would grant you your heart's desire to be a hero. Heroes are not born from times of peace and enjoyment. The difference here is that what you do will make a difference and the decisions, while difficult, will not be about the lesser of two evils, but clear choices of good or evil. Make use of your companions, and do not hesitate to enlist others in your quest. If you keep to this path you will earn your title of Robert Crosby, Hero; of that I am certain."_**

She stepped lightly off the table and knelt down to be eye level with the soldier. She placed a kiss on his forehead and he felt his consciousness drifting.

**_"Now go back to sleep, and remember; you are a good person, as long as you do good no one can tell you otherwise."_**

His morning exercise routine finished, he wiped the small beads of sweat from his brow. It seemed all cryptic to him, 'what did the mysterious green-haired woman mean?' he thought to himself as he made his way back to the kitchen. But his thoughts were interrupted as he entered the kitchen to gear up. He was greeted by the cook and his staff, and another squeal that sounded like _kyaaa_. That would be Siesta the maid.

"Oh, Sir Crosby! Welcome to our humble quarters!"

He smiled at the maid. He still thought it was cute the way she idolized him and Saito. Especially since she looked like a really cute puppy when she did that.

"Come on Siesta, it's just Mr. Crosby. A stinking title doesn't make me any better than anybody here in this room."

She shook her head emphatically.

"Oh but it does! And you are so noble of a knight, to be the champion of us commoners!"

He grinned and went over to the box were his gear was stashed. After putting on his assault vest he turned back to the cook.

"Hey Marteau, what does a knight have to do to get some chow around here? Slay the dragon, punch out some spoiled bratty noble?"

The chef returned his grin, but shook his head.

"Nothing of the sort, Sir Crosby the Hammer. But I am afraid I can't offer you anything here."

The soldier frowned.

"Say what?"

Marteau grinned.

"Well, you are a noble, and as such, you can eat their food. You can eat in the dining hall, there is no need to eat in the kitchen."

Crosby shrugged.

"If it was just me, I'd rather eat here." A thought came to him. "On the other hand, I may take you up on that. I'll be right back."

He left the kitchen and strode through the dining room, scanning it. When he saw the familiar pink-haired girl at a table he made his way over there. As he got closer he saw Saito was there too, chained up and collared like a dog. He also had ears and a tail like a dog. That earned a double take from the soldier.

"Jeez, Louise must have been pretty pissed at him last night." He thought.

The pinkette looked up from her tea and waved him over.

"Please, Sir Bodyguard Crosby, have a seat at my table. You are a noble so you may sit as among equals."

She seemed to be in a very chipper mood, in contrast to the night before. Once again he was wondering how the women in this world go through mood swings like this; an apocalyptic human volcano one instant, a sweet smiling teenager the next. He shook the thoughts from his head.

"Don't mind if I do."

He sat down and got the attention of a servant.

"I'll take a cup of whatever you guys serve for waking up that isn't tea, and a large cake."

The servant looked perplexed but didn't question his order. He noticed that someone had snuck up and was placing a bundle of roses on the table. On instinct he grabbed the wrist of the person holding the roses. There was a yelp of pain, and he recognized the voice. It was Guiche, the blonde pretty boy that had challenged the soldier to an ill-fated duel. Noticing that his right arm was in a sling he guessed the kid was still recovering.

"Sorry for hurting you kid. But you really shouldn't sneak up on a fella like that."

He expected the brat to make some snooty rebuttal, but was shocked that he hung his head.

"I am sorry for offending you, Sir Crosby, and rashly challenging you to that duel."

Crosby shrugged.

"No harm no foul. You just take care of that shoulder and we'll call it square."

He held out the flowers to the sergeant.

"If you want to give them to Louise, she's right there."

"No, they are for you, Sir Crosby."

The soldier raised an eyebrow.

"Um, before you get the wrong idea, I don't play that side of outfield. I thought you were into girls, but if you play both sides, I'm not going to judge."

Guiche looked mortified and shook his head emphatically.

"What, no! no! It's not like that, it's –"

"It's that ever since he got beaten by you he has a lot fewer friends."

The blonde girl with the ringlets in her hair spoke up behind Guiche.

"Yes, yes! MonMon is right. I just wanted to be friends with you, Sir Crosby."

Crosby shrugged.

"Then all you had to do was ask. As I said, we're cool now, and as long as you lose the attitude I don't mind us being pals. That doesn't mean I'll be taking long walks or long showers with you."

He saw the puzzled look on both of their faces, and shook his head.

"It's a figure of speech. And if I may make a suggestion, don't give another guy a bunch of roses; it gives all the wrong ideas."

Guiche nodded and left with the blonde girl in tow.

After they left the soldier looked around.

"Where's your friend the princess?"

That earned him a shush from the Louise, who was frantically gesturing to keep his voice down.

"Her presence here is meant to be a secret, she is the special guest of honor at tonight's ball."

"There's a ball tonight?"

She smiled.

"Yes, it's going to be wonderful." She stared at him for a brief minute. "Of course you can't go looking like that. I'll see if I can get you some formal wear for you. You are my bodyguard after all."

Crosby's thoughts where interrupted by some dog-like whimpering from under the table. He looked at Saito, still marveling that he had dog ears and a tail. After looking him over he glanced back to Louise.

"Do I wanna know?"

She swallow a large piece of cake and huffed.

"No, you don't. I warned him repeatedly not to arouse my ire, and after I dragged him out of that tramp Kirche's room he started singing a song about me being a Zero. So I turned him into a dog."

The soldier rolled his eyes.

"At least tell me it's not permanent."

"No, I plan on changing him back before the ball this evening."

She glared at down at Saito and jerked the chain that was attached to his collar.

"Providing the dog familiar behaves and does not act like a pervert!"

She was interrupted in her tirade with the arrival of the servant, who places a large bowl-like cup in front of the soldier and a large box.

"Here is your cappuccino, Sir Crosby, and a cake as you requested. Shall I cut it for you?"

Crosby drained the cup in one pull and stood up.

"That will not be necessary, I'll just take it to go."

He took the box and turned to Louise, giving her a bow.

"If my lady will give her bodyguard leave?"

Louise smiled at his formality, not noting the sarcasm in his voice, and fluttered her hand.

"You may go, Sir Bodyguard. Enjoy your cake."

After he left she gave the chain another sharp yank.

"See dog? Even Sir Crosby can act like a noble! I cannot believe you came from the same place as he did."

The doors to the kitchen opened up again, revealing the sergeant carrying a cake box.

"Back so soon, Sir Crosby?"

The soldier shrugged.

"Food was decent, company stank. So I came back here, and I brought you guys a little something."

He opened the box and revealed a beautifully decorated cake. The maid's eyes got even larger.

"Oh, but Sir Crosby, you shouldn't have! These cakes are so expensive, and for nobles only."

"Well, as a noble I am giving it to you guys as payment for putting me up and feeding me."

The maid let out another _kyaaa_, and hugged him. Well, hugged his midsection anyways. And it wasn't completely unwelcome. While she didn't have the huge rack that Miss Zerbst had, she had assets large enough that he could feel though his body armor, and that was impressive. And it made her hug all the more pleasant. Finally he gently disengaged her from him.

"Anyways, you guys enjoy the cake. I've got to see the headmaster now."

* * *

><p><strong>(later, at the headmaster's office)<strong>

Crosby stared at the spare mag of his P90. He swore that when he turned it over to Osmond it had maybe three or four rounds in it, but the translucent magazine showed all 50 rounds in it. He picked it up.

"Oh I assure you, Sir Crosby, it is real."

The soldier looked up.

"Sir Crosby? How did you find out?"

"Oh, the usual gossip mill of the school; the help. It's all over the school that Princess Henrietta knighted you and Louise Vallière. She arrived incognito when you were on your mission to retrieve the thief Fouquet."

The old headmaster sighed.

"Poor Longueville, what a pity about her. And she came so highly recommended. Now where will I get a good grope, er, help from?"

He noticed the soldier staring at him, and quickly cleared his throat.

"Yes, as you can see, I cannot replicate the mechanisms that make up your weapon, nor could I make the bullets from scratch with their explosives and unique alloys. However, there is a little known spell of replenishing that allows one to multiply that which is already there. So, in this case, the three bullets left in this device allowed me to multiply them to fifty."

He held up the grenade launcher, and when he thumbed open the catch Crosby saw that all 6 rounds were loaded with new grenades.

"The same goes with this Staff of Destruction, er what was it you called it?"

"An M32 MGL Grenade Launcher, or just grenade launcher, for short."

"Ah, right, and the same principle was applied to this grenade launcher, speaking of which."

He offered it to Crosby.

"You're giving me this? Why?"

"It's far too dangerous in anyone else's hands. Since it came from your world and you clearly know how to operate it, it is safest in your hands. Consider it a repayment for capturing the thief."

The soldier accepted the grenade launcher and slung it on his back. After a long pause he spoke again.

"You never did tell me how you got ahold of this?"

A thoughtful expression crossed Osmond's face.

"No, I didn't. It happened over thirty years ago. I was combating a terrible dragon, and almost lost my life to it. There was a man who appeared, he was dressed very similar to you, wielding that weapon, and badly wounded from some battle. He fired two bolts at the dragon and killed it, but not before succumbing to his own wounds and dying shortly thereafter. At the time I thought he was a mage from another world and this was his Staff of Destruction."

"Did he leave behind any mementos or indicators where he came from?"

The headmaster shook his head.

"No, he just left behind a box, which we stored it in."

He pulled a long box from the floor and set it on his desk. Crosby stared at it. It was a very average looking military-style metal locker painted tan. Stenciled in black paint was a stylized bear paw print and the words 'Property of Blackwater Security'.

"Blackwater?"

"You know of the soldier's country of origin?"

"Yes, but it's not a country, it's a company. He was…I guess you'd call him a kind of mercenary. I knew of people from his organization. They had a bad reputation, but I guess if he helped you at least one of them couldn't have been all bad."

"Well, good to know. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to write a help-wanted ad for another secretary."

Crosby left the headmaster scribbling something on a parchment exited the office. He made his way to the courtyard and sat down. His musings were interrupted by the something that sounded like the purring of a large cat. He looked up and saw a blue dragon looking at him. It was Sylphid, the blue-haired girl's familiar that helped them capture Fouquet. It opened its mouth and licked him. He fought down the urge to draw his weapon and fire on it when the dragon suddenly stopped. He looked over. Tabitha had bopped the dragon on the head with her staff.

"No eating!"

The dragon whimpered and moved away.

He spent the rest of the morning sharpening up his skills on an improvised firing range in the Earth courtyard, using empty wine bottles tied to a tree branch for target practice. After the encounter with the golem he wanted to make sure he knew the exact limitations of his weapons. After squeezing off four bursts he looked down at his weapon. Just as the headmaster said, he saw bullets appear in the transparent ammo feed as if by magic. Except it was magic.

He stood from his prone firing position and walked over to examine the dead targets. All four wine bottles were broken but with the necks and stems intact. He went back, this time taking twenty paces back from his original firing position to gauge the range and wind difference. Shooting the bottle's necks while they swung in the wind at this range would be more of a challenge.

Four bursts later, he looked up and saw all the bottles shattered. He paused as he heard the sounds of footsteps coming and looked up. It was Siesta, carrying a tray laden with food. She knelt beside him and set the tray down.

"The lady Louise didn't see you at lunch, so I took the liberty of bringing you some food. I hope it didn't get cold as I brought it to you."

He gave the maid a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it'll taste great. Let me secure my weapon and clean up the targets."

She looked over to where the remains of the shattered bottles were.

"Why were you shooting those empty bottles?"

"Target practice." He noticed the blank look on the maid's face. "I'm testing the accuracy of my weapon at this range. It's not usually meant for long range shooting."

She looked over at the tree where the remains of the bottles were still tethered to.

"But isn't it more difficult to shoot them? With them tied to a branch those bottles will move with the wind."

Crosby secured his weapon and sat down to dig in to the meal.

"That's the idea, kiddo. In my world, targets don't stay still, so to stay sharp it's good to practice with moving targets." He took a bite from what looked like roast beef.  
>"This is really good, by the way."<p>

She smiled.

"Also, the familiar Saito was looking for you in the kitchen and wanted your help."

"If his request involves killing a certain pink-haired human wrecking ball, the answer's no."

He paused.

"Wait, he asked you? He can talk now?"

She nodded.

"Well, I guess Louise was true to her word."

He turned back to Siesta.

"Run back and tell Saito I'll be there shortly." He gestured to the tray. "I'll bring this back to the kitchen, so don't worry."

When he returned the tray and plates to the kitchen Crosby saw Saito sitting there talking to the chef. Sure enough, he was missing the dog ears and tail. The kid looked up.

"Oh, hello Crosby-san!"

The soldier walked up to Saito.

"So she turned you back, eh?"

"Yes, she did."

"Good."

Crosby dope-slapped the teenager, who yelped in pain.

"Ow! I get enough of that from Louise! What was that for?"

"For clutching the idiot ball and provoking the pinkette. That was a stupid thing to do last night."

Saito actually got mad at the sergeant.

"You don't have to live as her familiar, or slave would be a more accurate description! She calls me dog all the time, makes me do her laundry, wash her underwear, makes me sleep on old straw for a bed, she demeans me at every turn! If it wasn't for the maids I would be living off stale bread and water!"

"What you may or may not realize is that girl does care about you. I've got a good eye for reading people; it comes with the rank and sergeant's stripes. And believe it or not she does like you. I also believe that under that veneer of arrogance lies a sweet, sensitive girl with self-esteem issues. And, as you may have inferred is also very jealous, in addition to having a hair-trigger temper."

Crosby shrugged.

"Now, if you're going to ask me why she decides to show her affection by abusing you, you're out of luck, it must be a local thing."

That calmed down Saito.

"Crosby-san, the reason I asked for you is that Louise said there is a ball tonight."

"So I heard. She's apparently going to round up some fancy monkey suit for me to wear. So what?"

"She told me that as her familiar I have to dance with her."

"That's usually what happens at fancy dress balls. At least the balls I remember involved dancing."

"But I don't know how to dance."

He stared at the teenager.

"Seriously? You never danced at prom?"

Saito flushed.

"Nobody asked me. So I was wondering…"

Crosby sighed.

"Okay kid, I'm no expert but I can show you the basics so you don't crush her toes."

He looked over to Siesta.

"Hey, kiddo, can I borrow you for a minute? Saito here needs a dance partner."

_"Kyaaa!"_

* * *

><p><strong>(That evening, in the kitchen)<strong>

Crosby stood in front the mirror feeling vaguely ridiculous. His evening clothes consisted of a dolman that was midnight blue with gold embroidered piping, with breeches were of a lighter blue with red piping down the seam. He had smiled at the irony, given his old unit's opinion of cannon cockers. He had a crimson sash across his middle, his feet were encased in knee-high black riding boots and he had a cloak the same color as his tunic flung over one shoulder. The white lace cravat around his neck he had to enlist the help of Marteau to tie. It was a dirty little secret in his old life that both his dress tie and formal mess bow tie were both clip-ons. He adjusted the tie and looked back at his reflection. It could have been worse, at least it still had a vaguely military feel to it, even if it didn't have the familiar feel of his Zulu Squad kit.

"Ah, there you see my friend, now you look like a proper noble!"

Crosby turned to see the chef grinning at him.

"Which contrasts to how I feel, which is ridiculous."

He glanced at the box holding his kit, and Marteau held up a reassuring hand.

"Not to worry, my friend, you possessions will be safe. Now, get out of my kitchen and flirt with all the pretty ladies; chef's orders!"

He grinned.

"Alright, don't want to be responsible for you burning the soufflé."

As Crosby made his way through the party, he felt uncomfortably aware of the attention he was gathering. Not his clothes, if anything his eveningwear was muted and low-key compared to what the more flamboyant outfits he saw the others wearing. He could hear the students whispering.

"Look, that's him! He's the one who brought in the thief!"

"That's the Zero's bodyguard? I want one like him!"

All the attention, and most of it female, made him very self-conscious and uncomfortable. Fortunately there was an announcement and all attention was pulled elsewhere.

"Presenting her royal highness, the Crown Princess of Tristain, Princess Henrietta!"

Looking over to her made the soldier's jaw drop. Gone was the teenager who was a BFF of the pinkette, and in her place was a beautiful young lady whose regal bearings made her every bit a princess. He couldn't even focus on her dress. He closed his eyes.

"Focus, sergeant, you're not some FNG at the JROTC winter ball."

He looked around trying to see if he could spot Louise.

"Sir Robert, may I have this dance?"

He turned around and saw the princess holding out her gloved hand expectantly. He made a swooping bow and took her hand.

"As you wish, my lady."

The music started and the dancing began. Crosby tried to focus on the dance steps trying to remember the last time he was at an NCO ball. It was hard to focus when a pretty girl is gazing at you like the day's catch. She smiled.

"You are doing fine, Sir Crosby."

She must have seen the quizzical look on his face.

"Your face gives you away, Sir Crosby. You are clearly a soldier, but tonight you should enjoy yourself and not treat this like a mission."

She looked down at his tunic.

"You look very handsome and dashing in your new clothes, my Louise has a good eye for that."

Out of his peripheral vision the soldier saw a pink head. Sure enough, there was Louise, looking more mature, even attractive in her formal gown, and was dancing with Saito. Both of them looked like they were enjoying themselves. Then Crosby remembered what was said earlier.

**_"…enjoy the small moments of comfort that come your way. For it will not always be this easy." _**

He was pulled from his thoughts as the princess lead him away from the ballroom floor and through an open patio door. He noticed that others noticed their departure.

"Your highness, not that I don't appreciate your company, but people will talk."

Henrietta led him to a remote bench.

"That is the idea."

She saw the worried look on his face and laughed lightly.

"No, Sir Crosby, it's not like that. I need to tell you something, and it needs to be away from prying eyes. I fear that war is coming to Tristain, and I need your help to stop it."

He raised an eyebrow and remembered the other part of his dream.

"What do you need me to do, your highness?"

"I am sending Louise to meet with a contact of mine in Tristainia, he will have information that can help stop this war. I want you to accompany her as her bodyguard."

He stood at attention and saluted.

"You can count on me, ma'am."

Meanwhile in the kitchen Chef Marteau was becoming increasingly flustered. With every tray laden with cakes or canapés that he sent out four more empty trays would come back in. That's when he heard the voices. It was odd, when he paused in his frantic duties to seek out the source it turned out to be coming from a box. The crate that held Sir Crosby the Hammer's belongings. As he pulled the articles out he found that it was the vest that was talking. Upon closer inspection it wasn't the vest that was talking, but a small rectangular box that was making a sound like flatulence, and then more talking.

_"…Repeating, to the US military IFF transponder Romeo Foxtrot ID Eight Six Seven Fife dash Tree Zero Niner, this is callsign Bravo Six transmitting in the blind, we are a three man chalk US Army 33__rd__ Battalion marooned in a place called Tristain with francophone speaking natives, if you read please switch to channel twelve and respond, repeating…"_

Marteau studied the box and notice a small knob on end. As he turned it clockwise, the voices became louder, but as he turned it the other way, they became faint, until with a 'click' the voices stopped altogether. He shrugged, at least the voices had stopped. He very carefully put the box back into the vest and placed the vest back into the crate with the rest of Sir Crosby's belongings. He would try to remember to tell Sir Crosby about the voices.

But Marteau did not see him at the end of the evening. By morning he was frantically looking for Sir Crosby but he was nowhere to be found. One of the faculty members told him that Louise Valliere, her familiar and Sir Crosby all left under the cover of darkness for some secret mission of the princess. He panicked. Both champions of the commoners were gone, and right when their services were needed the most. He shook his head. Poor Siesta was taken that morning as a 'servant' of the lecherous Count Mott. Siesta was as good as lost, who would rescue her, with the Hammer and Sword gone?

_(AN: Oops! Nice job breaking it Marteau LOL. Who indeed will save Siesta's virtue, but we know!_

_ Whew! Now the plot starts to thicken! Hope you guys like it, I've been trying to clean up the published chapters of grammatical errors and inconsistencies so if you see any pm and let me know. _

_Glossary of terms for those curious:_

_Cannon Cocker: derogatory slang for members of the Artillery corps. Also, the red stripe is part of their dress uniform. They were also nicknamed 'red legs.'_

_FNG: F*cking New Guy, self explanatory.)_


	10. Treacherous Ground

_(AN: So since it was confusing for some of the new readers to have a flash forward chapter for a second chapter, I went ahead and moved this to be more in sync with the other chapter. So Secret Mission is now 'Treacherous Ground' and what was Treacherous Ground is now 'Treacherous Ground, Part Deux')_

The odd trio made their way through the city of Tristainia, and it was an odd-looking trio. One was clearly a noble, judging by her appearance and loud, condescending manner and the way she was abusing her servant. She was a teenager with pink hair and wearing the cloak of the Tristain Academy of Magic. Her servant was a boy about her age wearing commoner clothes. The one leading the group was the oddest looking of the three. He was a man with a weather-beaten face and close cropped hair. He also was wearing a cloak, but this one identified him as a chevalier, or noble knight. But he had none of the swagger or condescending manner of most knights, but rather of a veteran of many wars. His armor and weapons were odd, as well. Instead of plate armor of the knight or mailed leather armor of an archer, his was black and white made of some woven fabric. He held his weapon like a crossbow or musket, but it was sleeker and looked to be made of black metal.

Sgt. Crosby scanned the crowd ahead of them and shook his head. It was clear that they were lost, thanks to his charge's directions, or inherent lack thereof. He recognized several landmarks for the second and third time. And they were getting more stares that were less of the curious sort and more of the dangerous sort. His musings were interrupted by a loud outburst from his charge. Apparently when he was brought into this world it was her second attempt to summon a familiar, the first being that teenager Saito. She wisely figured it was easier to dominate a teenager from Tokyo than a battle-hardened soldier. With the help of a promotion to 'knight bodyguard' by Princess Henrietta, his office required him to escort Louise and Saito and make sure no harm came to them on this secret mission. He shook his head and turned around.

"With all due respect to my lady," he said in a voice that indicated the opposite, "between my appearance and your loud mouth we're attracting the attention of everyone in this stinking city. And not the good sort."

Louise paused in her verbal abuse of Saito to glare at her bodyguard.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby, I am disciplining my familiar, you will not interrupt me!"

He held Louise's glare, and it was another staring contest until she finally yielded.

"15 seconds, a new record for her." Crosby noted to himself. Louise hung her head and murmured in a lower voice.

"I apologize for my outburst, Sir Bodyguard Crosby."

He cleared his throat.

"You should apologize to Saito, my lady." It took him almost a week to adapt his clipped military jargon to the more flowery speech patterns of nobles. She glared at him a second time, and with a huff made a very insincere apology to Saito.

Saito had latched onto the soldier because they were both in the same predicament and apart from the servants at the school Crosby was the only one who treated him like a real human being instead of a "familiar'. Crosby for his part liked the kid because he reminded him of Pvt. Pete Gobbi, a friend of his from his old life in that sand-ridden hellhole. So it was natural that he would stick up for the kid whenever he could.

"Let's keep moving."

He continued to scan the crowd and saw more people get out of their way and avert their eyes. It wasn't unusual to be stared at. Sgt. Crosby was used to it, even without his helmet and skull balaclava he was an imposing figure with his Zulu Squad armor and exotic weapons. After recovering the 'Staff of Destruction,' which turned out to be a M32 MGL grenade launcher, the headmaster Osmond rewarded him with the aforementioned weapon and a "replenishing spell" so neither the 'Staff of Destruction' nor his P90 submachine gun would run out. Which suited him fine, he was never a big fan of melee fighting. He always thought the bayonet runners in Dubai were nuts for bringing knives to a gunfight. His musing were interrupted by Louise pointing at a blacksmith shop.

"There!" she chirped in a loud voice, "That is where her highness said our contact would be!"

"Perhaps my lady should speak a little louder," growled Crosby, "because your last outburst wasn't heard by the people of ALBION!"

He snarled the last words two inches from Louise's face, his normally stoic demeanor gone with his increased frustration. Her eyes went wide at his outburst. That shut her up. His relief was short-lived as her face scrunched up and she started crying. Crosby sighed and looked over to Saito.

"Get her calmed down, I'm going to scout the location."

If the boy was angry at him for upsetting Louise, he didn't show it and curtly nodded. For all the abuse that snotty brat heaped onto the boy, Crosby could tell that Saito cared for her, possibly even liked her. For all he knew it could be mutual; all the abuse was her twisted way of showing affection. She certainly seemed very jealous whenever her familiar earned the attentions and affections of the opposite sex. He carefully approached the shop and glanced in. It was a typical shop with weapons and armor scattered about. The blacksmith was stooped over an anvil beating on a blade.

"Be with you in a minute." The blacksmith said without turning around.

Crosby stared at the blacksmith, amazed that he knew someone was there without turning around. But there was something else. Something in blacksmith's mannerisms and voice seemed familiar. Then the blacksmith turned around and froze as both men recognized each other. Even with the salt-and-pepper beard and stained leather smock Crosby knew who he was.

"Konrad? Colonel, sir?"

The blacksmith cocked his head to one side.

"Crosby?"

At the sound of his old CO's voice, Crosby stiffly stood at attention and saluted.

"Colonel, Sgt. Crosby reporting, sir!"

Konrad smiled and help out his hand.

"At ease, sergeant. If you hadn't noticed, we're not in Dubai anymore."

As he approached his former CO emotions welled up inside Crosby, and he grabbed Konrad in a hug.

"I'll admit it; it's good to see another member of the Damned 33rd."

Konrad disengaged from the bro-hug.

Likewise, Sergeant. How did you get here?"

"It's a long story, sir. But the gist of it is that I bought the farm, saw a white light, and ended up here." He chuckled. "I've put my skills to use and became a knight on a quest to save the day. How did you get here, sir?"

A haunted look came over his face. The memories came back to him in a flash. He was sitting in his easy chair, on the patio with the balcony overlooking the sandstorm ruined Dubai. The previous day he had met with Robert Darden, the reporter, and gave him the recording to broadcast on the outskirts of the city. The last thing he said to Robert was to encourage the reporter's pet project of broadcasting radio throughout the city to help boost morale among the troops and civilians. He had written his final orders to the 33rd exhorting them to ride out the storm, to survive, to hold the line. The last thing he had done was write a letter to his son Jeremy. Wearing his dress uniform, he watched the sun set over the city skyline. For a moment his resolve waivered, but then all the guilt came rushing back over him. Such hubris, to think that he could lead an evacuation column in the middle of a sandstorm, to think one could save civilians by killing them when their only crime was dying of thirst, to think that he could play the hero one last time. Such hubris cost the lives of 1200 men, women, and children. Not to mention the mutiny that ensued. He put the M9 handgun up to his temple, and without hesitation pulled the trigger.

All he saw was a white light, then a voice, a soft feminine voice, spoke.

**_"Colonel John Konrad, the warrior with a conscience. So many have suffered, but your suffering was the greatest, all because you wanted to help. To be the savior. But instead you were cast as the villain."_**

"Who are you? And what do you want?"

**_"Who I am is of little consequence. I am here to grant you a boon. I will give you that which you want the most. I give you peace."_**

Konrad jolted himself back to reality. He smiled thinly at Crosby.

"Let's just say I ended up here the same way you did. I woke up here, or rather in a forest not too far from here. Befriended a nice elf gal in the forest and found work as a blacksmith."

He was interrupted by someone coming into the shop; it was Saito and Louise. It looked like the boy had calmed her down, but she was still sniffling and stifling small sobs. She also wouldn't look Crosby or Konrad in the eye. She started to say something but Crosby knelt down to her eye level and spoke.

"Look, my lady, I apologize for my outburst, it's just that I worry for your safety."

She blinked back some tears and nodded once.

"It's just when you snarl like that it scares me."

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I promise I won't scare you like that again, okay?"

Louise wiped her eyes and smiled at him. That was all the assurances he needed. He noticed the look of concern on Saito's face for Louise, and decided to poke the hornet's nest.

"You know kid, you handle conflict well, maybe I should put you in charge of babysitting detail. At least it will get you more face time with your girlfriend."

Louise glared at Crosby and started to beat her tiny fists against his tactical vest.

"Stupid! Boorish! Bodyguard! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid. And! MY! FAMILIAR! IS! NOT! MY! BOYFRIEND!"

Saito looked mortified, but Crosby just watched her ineffectually pounding on his chest with an amused smirk. When Louise had finally exhausted herself Crosby turned back to Konrad.

I suppose introductions are in order. The violent little pink-haired pipsqueak is my charge, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, and this is her familiar Saito Hiraga."

Crosby noticed Konrad perked up at the mention of Louise's name.

"A pleasure to meet you both. My name is Konrad, and I have information for someone matching your name. But we should speak of that in private, away from prying ears."

He noticed Saito was staring at him.

"Are you the Colonel John Konrad? Commander of the Damned 33rd Infantry Battalion?"

Konrad smiled.

"It would appear as if I have a fanboy, even here. Yes I am Konrad, but no I am not a Colonel or a commander any more. It's just John Konrad. All I command right now is a forger's bellows and a hammer and anvil. Speaking of which," he turned back to his work.

"I need to finish this blade before it sets. My quarters are upstairs, please make yourself at home and I will be done shortly. Then we have much to discuss."

_(AN: So I think this helps the flow of the story better than making it a flash forward. Initially when I wrote the story I meant to make it more of a series of vignettes rather than a coherent story, and I've had some readers complain that having this chapter at the beginning was confusing.)_


	11. Treacherous Ground, Part Deux

Saito stared for a long time at display case. Konrad's quarters above the shop were a simple affair, a room that was at one time the attic. On one end was a wood-burning stove that doubled as a kitchen, on the other end was a small bed with a metal chest at the foot of the bed. There was a sitting area in the middle with a threadbare couch and a small bookcase by the circular stairwell that went down to the shop. On the bookcase there were a couple of old books about the history of Tristain and Helkeginia, and a display case with medals earned by the former commander of the 'Damned 33rd'.

"Incredible, he has the Legion of Merit, the Defense Superior Service Medal, and Congressional Medal of Honor!"

Louise walked over and stared at the medals.

"Are those high honors where you come from?"

"High honors? These are some of the highest honors any soldier can get, and now we're in his quarters."

He had unconsciously grabbed one of the pinkette's hands, and she looked shocked, and started to blush. Crosby was standing off to the side and had been flipping through one of the books but was watching it. He knew it. The pink-haired noble might treat the teenager from Tokyo like a dog or 'familiar', but she did have feelings for him. Then she ruined the moment. She frowned and threw down his hand.

"Stupid dog!" she huffed. "I was addressing Sir Bodyguard Crosby."

Crosby for the second time that day decided to poke the hornet's nest.

"Now, now, my lady is that any way to treat your boyfriend."

She flushed pinker than her hair and seethed. She marched over and started beating on his leg with her fist.

"Stupid! Bodyguard! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! For! The! Last! Time! That! Dog! Is! NOT! MY! BOYFRIEND!"

"Am I interrupted a lover's quarrel, sergeant?"

Konard's voice came up from the stairwell as he climbed the stairs. He had removed his apron and was now dressed on a patched but clean peasant shirt and his olive green utilities.

Crosby glanced down and saw that Louise looked mortified. He grinned.

"You heard that, sir?"

The former colonel chuckled.

"I'm surprised the king of Germania didn't hear it. That's quite a temper you have there, Miss Vallière."

He gestured to the couch.

"I'm afraid my humble accommodations are not what a Tristain noble is accustomed, but you are welcome to sit. What I have to say could take a while."

After Louise and Crosby sat down on the couch (she forced poor Saito to sit on the floor by her) Konrad unfolded his tale.

Crosby closed his eyes. The Kingdom of Albion, the Reconquista, Oliver Cromwell, Prince Wales, all these names and locations that had an uncanny resemblance to their Earth counterparts was too much.

"With respect, sir, if your friend Prince Wales is the key to stopping the Reconquista, why not tell her directly?"

He gestured out the window to a large palace visible above the city's skyline.

"Why did she send us on this wild-goose chase?"

Konrad smiled.

"And I was going to ask her the same thing. My guess is that she's being watched, and doesn't want Cromwell's spies knowing about me, also I suspect she has a history with Prince Wales, and she knows that the prince's enemies know, so she doesn't want to put him in unnecessary danger. I was also given this."

He help up an parchment envelope with a highly ornate seal and handed it to Louise, she recognized it as the official seal of the House of Tudor in Albion.

"Prince Wales entrusted me with this letter, stating that if these Reconquista people found out they would use it as leverage to unseat him from power. When Princess Henrietta contacted me saying that you were coming in her stead as her confidant and friend, I figure you should have it."

Louise looked at the letter.

"Why would a simple letter be so damaging to the prince?"

"It's no simple letter, Miss Vallière, it's a love letter. Flowing purple prose, the declarations of undying love, even came with a fancy ring."

The pinkette's eyes widened in shock.

"How dare you imply that my friend her highness Princess Henrietta was having a fling with a noble whose country is a sworn enemy of Tristain?"

Konrad shrugged.

"Read it for yourself if you don't believe me."

"What!? You mean you opened the letter and read it? That is uncouth!"

Louise furiously waved the envelope at Konrad until the letter fluttered down by where Saito was sitting, who picked it up. Louise was too fixated on arguing with Konrad.

"Miss Vallière, I understand your anger, but for what it's worth the letter was already opened and the prince volunteered information concerning its contents."

Louise was about to respond when Saito, who had been scanning through the letter, interrupted.

"Wow, you're right, Colonel Konrad, with all the juicy stuff in here it's a regular political hand grenade!"

The pink-haired girl turned and glared at her familiar, Crosby took an involuntary step back, whenever she got red in the face and had veins pulsating on her forehead, it mean that bad things were going to happen.

"HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE THE PRIVACY OF HER HIGHNESS YOU DOG!"

She snatched the letter out of his hands and kicked him with such fury that he went flying across the room, crashing into the woodstove. Before she could cause more damage Crosby pulled her off her feet and held her pinned under his left arm.

"I'm almost positive I'm getting a case of déjà vu." the sergeant thought to himself.

"Unhand me this instant! I order you to release me!"

"No."

"What?!"

"You heard me, I said no, I am not releasing you until you control that hair-trigger temper of yours."

She squirmed under his grasp, suddenly she remembered where she was and looked up with a horrified expression on her face. Konrad was still standing there with a bemused look on his face.

"Not to worry, Miss Vallière, it was an old stove anyways."

When she calmed down he released the pinkette and let her continue to talk to Konrad while the sergeant walked over to the other side of the room. He pulled Saito out of the demolished remains of the stove and dusted the soot off his shirt.

"Kid, you really need to not provoke her like that. I'm not always going to be around to save your ass."

When he got back to the sitting area, Konrad had finished giving Louise instructions on what to tell Henrietta.

"I still don't get why we have to play postmaster for the princess, sir."

Konrad shrugged and walked over to an end table that had a pitcher and poured himself some water.

"Trust me when I say this that this whole situation feels like a badly written political thriller."

Crosby and Saito snickered, but Louise just looked puzzled.

"What are our next steps, Mr. Konrad?"

"I have many clients in Albion, including the prince. I intend to travel to Londinium in a few days, I can get word to him and see if he and the princess can meet in some neutral area like Tarbes. Maybe he can form a coalition of nobles in Albion that want peace with Tristain, and won't be opposed to the idea of their prince marrying into the Tristain royal family. With a bit of luck we can help this prince squash the revolution and maintain peace. There is one other thing."

He took one of the old books off the shelf and flipped through the pages.

"Legend tells of a 'steel dragon that can be dominated by men' residing in the Desert, protected by the elves that live there."

Konrad opened the book to a certain page and pointed it out to Crosby. It was a woodcut, highly stylized, and crude depiction of what appeared to be a four-engined airplane.

"Now, I don't know about you, sergeant, but I suspect this 'steel dragon' is actually an airplane of sorts. If it is, and our little plan fails and war comes to Tristain, I want all the help we can get."

Crosby took the book and saluted.

"Roger that, sir."

It was nearly dusk by the time the trio left the blacksmith shop, with Konrad standing at the shop entrance bidding them goodbye. The sergeant paused to shake his former CO's hand.

"You sure you don't want to come with us, sir?"

Konrad smiled and shook his head.

"No, sergeant, I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with younger company. I'm getting too old for combat, let alone these quests and adventures."

He looked back over his shop.

"This shop, being able to make a sword or horseshoes, that's something I always wanted. The lady in the white light promised me something that I never could find in my old life. Peace. I hope you understand, sergeant."

"Not at all sir. Although I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't mind having more adult supervision. Some days I feel like I'm in a kindergarten, not Hogwarts."

Konrad chuckled.

"It's the Tristain Academy of Magic, Sir Bodyguard Crosby. Get your fictions straight. And take care."

"Same to you, sir."

It was almost midnight when they arrived back at the Academy of Magic. Crosby was in a foul mood, he suggested they stop for the night at an inn and make an early start in the morning. Louise had insisted that they continue on, saying that she had an exam the following morning that she could not miss. The fact that she hadn't bothered studying for the test was a pointless argument to bring up. So all three travelers were sound asleep as the carriage passed by the Charming Fairies Inn, they did not see the black AH-J Little Bird with welded-on 'hillbilly armor' parked by the tavern's stable area. The driver noticed it and thought it was an odd-looking airship, but continued on. He also noted that the tavern seemed particularly loud that night, and was thankful the little mistress had opted not to stop for the night.

* * *

><p>Lugo woke up, and at first was disoriented because he did not recognize his surroundings. Then it all came back to him; the angry refugee mob attacking him, lynching him, killing him, the green-haired lady in the white light, the manor with the lecherous old man. Then he looked up and saw a pair of the most beautiful blue eyes ever. The maid, Siesta was gazing at him with unalloyed adoration.<p>

"Good Morning, Mr. Lugo, did you sleep well?"

He stretched and sat up on the cot in the servant's quarters.

"I told you, sweetie, its John, no need to be so formal."

He flashed her one of his trademarked toothsome grin. She smiled back, and let out another squeal that sounded like _kyaaa_. John continued to grin. He wasn't sure how she made that noise, but it was absolutely cute when she did it. He could get used to that.

"Oh John, you're so wonderful, you are my champion!"

She paused with a start and turned around.

"I almost forgot about your breakfast, it's just leftovers."

He looked down, it was a mix of pastries, fresh buttered bread and poached eggs, and smelled wonderful.

"It looks delish, Siesta, thanks!"

He took up a knife and fork and started to dig in.

"I could get used to this, 3 hots and a cot, and breakfast in bed delivered by a pretty maid."

She smiled at him.

"I have my other duties, so I have to go, but if you need anything just ask."

She left, and as he left he heard her squeal again. He shook his head, grinning. He could probably start a drinking game on the number of times that pretty maid made that noise. He received quite the hero's welcome when he arrived with Siesta the night before. Of course, riding up in a fully kitted out white horse might have had something to do with it. The head chef had fixed a massive supper for him, and all of the servants thought he was the hero of the day.

And then there was Siesta. That girl was something very special, the hopeless romantic in him felt like it was love at first sight, and hoped that it the feelings were mutual. He could get used to this gig.

When he was done with his breakfast, he got dressed, the last accessory was his TAR-21 and his baseball cap, and left the servant's wing to explore. This Tristain Academy was quite the place. It was laid out like a Pentagon, with the large tower in the middle and five smaller towers stretching out to the five points with five small angular courtyards in between.

* * *

><p>Crosby also awoke in strange surroundings. He was accustomed to his Spartan cot, and now awoke in an honest to god bedroom. His new quarters were a reflection of his new status as a Knight-Bodyguard. It wasn't as lavishly appointed as Louise's room or Kirche's, but it was a marked improvement on his old quarters in Dubai. It would take getting used to. He was still digesting the reunion with his old commanding officer, Colonel John Konrad. He got up and dressed in his uniform, leaving his helmet and balaclava behind. He also left his P90 and 'Staff of Destruction' hanging on a peg on the wall. As it was he was just getting breakfast.<p>

In the dining area he ran across Louise and Saito, and she was in a good mood, because Saito was not in a collar and eating real food. And she didn't even make him eat on the floor. The pinkette smiled and waved at him.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby! The maid Siesta was looking for you! I think she is in the kitchen."

He nodded. Inside the kitchen Chef Marteau greeted him warmly.

"Welcome back, Sir Crosby the Hammer!"

He paused and there was a thoughtful look on his face.

"There was something I was going to tell you, but it slipped my mind with all the madness."

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Something happen when I was gone?"

"Well, the evening you left Siesta was taken by the Count Mott-"

Marteau held up a hand to forestall the rising panic on the soldier's face.

"-But she is safe now. I admit I was out of sorts but thankfully her knight in shining armor saved her."

The sergeant was relieved that the cute little maid was safe, but was perplexed.

"Who saved her?"

"Well, funny enough, he is, ah, there he is! Welcome to the savior of our dear Siesta!"

Crosby turned to greet the newcomer, but his mood changed the instant he put eyes on him. He had only seen pictures, or seen him from a distance. In the sights of his scope. But he would never forget the face. Sgt. John Lugo, the sniper of Delta Squad. The squad lead by that murderous bastard Captain Walker. For his part Lugo froze and appeared to recognize him.

"You." Was all Crosby could say as he seethed with anger and hatred.

_(AN: Okay, so I've done a bit of retconning to fit the story, some of the dialog in the earlier chapters wasn't syncing up to the later bits, so I've fixed it. The plot now has officially thickened. One could even say congealed. Stay tuned for the next chapter, and yes, I'm horrible for ending it on a cliffhanger. Don't worry, Lugo and Crosby will survive this encounter and resolve their issues. Without guns, I promise.)_


	12. Preventative Diplomacy

"You."

Lugo froze. He almost didn't recognize the soldier standing in front of him, wearing a dark navy blue cloak like all the other students at this magical school. He almost didn't recognize him without the helmet, the distinctive orange goggles and the skull balaclava. But the black uniform with the white and orange shoulder pads, stenciled with the stylized logo of the Damned 33rd, he recognized from Dubai. This soldier was from Zulu Squad, the elite fighting force that was the final solution to any problem of the Damned 33rd. And he looked pissed. Not that he exactly blamed him.

The old turmoil of emotions boiled within Crosby. All the hurt and anguish came rushing back, after being buried for what seemed a lifetime ago in Dubai. His soldier's instincts kicked in and he drew his Desert Eagle sidearm, ignoring the cries of alarm from the chef and servants. His vision narrowed to a tunnel, and he was only vaguely aware that there were other people in the room.

Lugo was fucked. He knew it was too much to think that he could get out of Dubai without a reckoning. He cursed himself for leaving his TAR-21 in his quarters after his exploratory expedition. All he could do was stare into the barrel of that massive handgun that the soldier was leveling at him. He heard a scream and saw the maid Siesta running towards him, crying. She was tugging at the Zulu Squad soldier's sleeve, speaking in rapid-fire French.

"Please, what are you doing Sir Crosby, you can't shoot him, he saved my life! He's my friend, like you."

When she saw the soldier wasn't responding, she stepped in the line of fire, in front of Lugo, effectively blocking his view. That got his attention.

"Get out of the way, Siesta." The Zulu Squad soldier growled.

"No." The maid replied flatly. "I don't know what Mr. Lugo did to earn your ire, but it can't be worth killing him over. And if you really want to kill him, then you are not the noble I thought you were, and you won't feel bad about killing a lowly maid in the process."

Conflict ran through Crosby's mind. The killing edge and bloodlust was blunted. He started to release the tension in his finger off the trigger of his gun, when the Delta Force Operator did something completely unexpected.

Lugo gently took Siesta by the shoulders and pushed her out of the way. He turned back to face the soldier called Crosby.

"Listen, I know you want to kill me. And I know you would be justified in doing so. Honestly I can't think of any excuse that would absolve me of all the horrible things my team did. The white phosphorus incident, the water trucks, the Radio Tower." He smiled thinly. "I suppose I could give the cop-out of 'I was just following orders,' but even that rings hollow. Adams and I knew Captain Walker had let go of the rope, he wasn't the same after the Gate Massacre, he was hallucinating, claiming that corpses were alive, claiming to hear Konrad's voice on a broken radio. At any point I could have had Adams relieve him of command and either retreated or surrendered to the 33rd."

He sighed, defeated and deflated.

"But we didn't and I didn't. So if you think it will help, I won't blame you."

Crosby was stunned. He had figured the soldier would cower, plead, deny, or angrily hurl counter-accusations. Instead he seemed to be wracked with the same guilt he carried within himself.

**_"Private Pete Gobbi would not want you to murder a man in the name of vengeance."_**

It was the voice of the Lady. Now that, he thought, was hitting below the belt. All these thoughts passed through his mind in the fraction of a second.

He lowered his weapon, and holstered it.

"No, Lugo. I won't. Because killing you won't bring back Gobbi, Bowles, Tebby, McPherson or any of the other guys your team killed. Those were not faceless monsters, or even mere soldiers, they were my friends, my brothers-in-arms."

He sighed, and felt tired and old all of a sudden.

"In the end there weren't any black-hatted villains back in that sandstorm-wracked hellhole. Only misguided fools on both sides blindly following orders."

He walked off without another word, out of the kitchen just as Louise and Saito walked in. He ignored the cries of Siesta, the shouts of the chef, the pinkette and her familiar. He needed time to process it. And he wanted to be alone.

* * *

><p>It was evening when Louise found Crosby, brooding alone outside the school, sitting at the edge of the forest under a tree. She noticed that his handgun was next to him, and there were tiny gold colored metal cylinders on the ground. If she remembered properly, Crosby had called them 'shells' when she saw similar ones on the ground after the epic battle with Fouquet and her Earth Golem. She sat next to him, and he glanced briefly her way but did not acknowledge her existence otherwise. After a long awkward moment she spoke.<p>

"The House of Vallière is a noble one, and it has boasts a long line of powerful mages."

The soldier again glanced her way, but still said nothing.

"My father, the viscount of Vallière, was one of the most powerful Square Mages in our family line. There was much anticipation and many great expectations when I was enrolled at the Tristain Academy of Magic."

Her voice started to crack.

"Instead of earning the title of Louise, the scion of a family of great mages, they call me the Zero because I'm horrible at magic."

She broke down and started crying, tears streaming down her face. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and heard the soldier's voice.

"You summoned two familiars."

She looked up and saw Crosby looking at her. She blinked back tears.

"Theoretically I only summoned one since you can only have one familiar. You didn't count."

She saw the hint of a smile on his face.

"Regardless that's quite the feat. That makes you a Two at least."

She spluttered as she laughed and cried at same time.

"Stupid Bodyguard!"

She half-heartedly bobbed him on the shoulder with her tiny fist. She dried her eyes.

"I don't pretend to know what happened between you and Mr. Lugo, but I do know what it's like to carry a burden and feel alone."

Called it, the sergeant thought. Hidden depths and low self-esteem which she hides under a veneer of arrogance and a volcanic temper. His thoughts were interrupted by his stomach growling. Apparently his stomach had gotten spoiled over the last couple of days, being fed at regular intervals will do that.

"Sounds like a noble bodyguard skipped breakfast and lunch. Shall I go fetch you something to eat?"

He shook his head, took his sidearm and secured it, then stood up, holding out his hand.

"Perish the thought. My lady should not demean herself with menial tasks."

She accepted it and stood up as well, following him back to the school grounds.

_(AN: This one is short because it felt forced. I'm not sure I got the feel right, because I churned it out very quickly last night and just glanced through it this morning before posting it. So now the 33__rd__ and Delta Squad aren't shooting each other on sight, what's next? Cats and Dogs cohabitating and producing unnatural offspring?_

_And remember when i sent out the memo about the TPS reports and the fact that there were going to be 20 chapters total? Yeah, I kind of didn't get the memo, there are at least another 15 chapters to go (or more) so if you could just bear with me, that would be greeeat._

_All seriousness aside, how did this pan out/cop out? Good, Bad, Meh? LMK what you think, and hope you enjoy the next coming chapters!)_


	13. Preventative Diplomacy, Part Deux

The Zulu Squad soldier didn't know what fed his appetite as he dug into his food with great gusto. He had arrived at the dining hall just as supper was being served, and ended up ordering everything on the menu. Amazing, he thought to himself.

He remembered not even a week ago he was still in Dubai, and dinner over there consisted of an emergency protein bar and 8 ounces of lukewarm water that always tasted like sand. And after the CIA destroyed the water trucks, all of the surviving members of the 33rd had pared back their water rations even further to provide water for the surviving thirsty refugees.

Yes, I could get used to this world, he thought as he took another bite of some meat pie smothered in rich-tasting sauce followed by a drink of ale. It meant he would have to bump up his exercise regime to offset the increased calorie intake, but he didn't mind, if it meant eating nice food. Louise was sitting across the table, and he caught her looking at him as he ate, and she giggled.

"You're as bad as my familiar when he gets hungry."

He wiped his mouth on a silk napkin.

"I guess I deserved that. Remind me not to skip breakfast and lunch again. Speaking of which, where is Saito?"

"Oh, when I left looking for you I think he was chatting up Marteau and Mr. Lugo."

That brought something back up to the surface. He finished the last of the pie and placed his napkin back on the table.

"That reminds me, I have to do something."

He started to stand, then smirked.

"Will my lady grant leave to her brooding and glutinous bodyguard?"

The pinkette smiled at his humor, but there was a flash of worry across her face. He held up a reassuring hand.

"Not to worry, I'm not going to kill Lugo; I just wanted to clear the air between us."

She nodded once.

"Very well, you are free to go, Sir Crosby."

He stood and bowed before leaving.

Sure enough, he found the Delta Force sergeant in the Earth courtyard with Saito, with Lugo field-cleaning his TAR-21 and Saito helping him. If the overheard conversation was anything to go off of they were comparing notes on video games and their favorite TV shows. Lugo's voice carried.

"Yeah, I don't know about that, dude. I'm as big a fan of jap animation as the next guy, but some of those shows have some really far-fetched premises. All of them seem to revolve around some nerdy everyman being transported to some far-off place where he has a herd of impossibly beautiful women who desperately want to have kids with him."

He was so absorbed in oiling the action slide of his rifle that he didn't see the odd look Saito was giving him. The kid shook himself out of it when Lugo looked back up.

"…Not to say I don't like them, it's just a bit unrealistic, that's all."

He looked up and saw Crosby standing there. Immediately he went on edge. With his weapon stripped he was unarmed and out in the open. The Zulu Squad soldier held up his hands.

"It's okay, Sgt. Lugo. I'm not here to start another war. I just…left somewhat abruptly so I thought we could clear the air."

Lugo understood, and turned over to Saito.

"Hey dude, why don't you go check on your mistress, the pink-haired girl?"

If the teen had any objections he did not voice them, but got up and left. Crosby watched the kid leave, then turned back to Lugo.

"So, do you want to go first?"

* * *

><p>Siesta was in a panic, she had heard from Louise's familiar Saito that Sir Crosby wanted to speak to Mr. Lugo, alone. Even though Saito did not seem worried, she was deathly afraid of what would happen. Ever since she saw a man whom she thought was a kind noble pull a weapon with the intention of killing her savior, she was afraid. And those eyes that were once so kind were so hard and cold. She shivered at the recollection of it. She hoped she would get there in time.<p>

* * *

><p>Crosby took the hit on the side of his face, barely causing his head to turn. He grinned wolfishly at his opponent.<p>

"C'mon sergeant, I said hit me, not tickle me. Jeez I have a paralyzed grandmother that hits harder than you. Now hit me."

His opponent threw a cross punch that connected with his jaw, this one rocked his head back. He touched his lip and saw a trickle of blood on his fingers and smiled.

"That's more like it, soldier. Now my turn. Any preferences?"

Lugo, who was sporting a bright red ear, grinned at the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Two request; no hitting the ear! And not the face."

He pointed up drawing an imaginary circle around his face.

"Don't want any scars ruining this perfection."

Crosby shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

And he unleashed a sharp uppercut right into Lugo's solar plexus, causing the Delta Operator to double over, wheezing and laughing.

"Wow, shit! That one nearly hurt."

Crosby laughed. It seemed barbaric that two 21st century soldiers who were in all other areas civilized would resolve their differences with something so crude as fisticuffs, but Lugo suggested it. And it was working. Crosby could feel the anger and hatred ebbing with each punch he took and gave.

He was about to make a snide comment when he felt something connect with the back of his head. His Kevlar helmet and cushioning system absorbed most of the impact, but he was sure something hit him. He disengaged from his horseplay with Lugo and spun around, only to see Siesta clutching a large cast iron skillet. Lugo spoke up first.

"Hey, it's okay babe, we were just horsing around."

Her blue eyes widened, no mean feat given their size.

"Y-you mean?"

Crosby nodded.

"In our world, this is our equivalent of dueling."

Immediately she flushed. She let the offending pan slip out of her hand and dropped to her knees, profusely apologizing.

"Oh, Sir Crosby! I'm so sorry! Please don't beat me! I just didn't want see Mr. Lugo get hurt!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant smiled and knelt down to Siesta' level and gently pulled her back to her feet.

"It's okay, Siesta. Mr. Lugo and I have sorted out our differences."

He looked over the top of her head to make eye contact with Lugo.

"And although we aren't going to be taking long walks on the beach anytime soon," Lugo smirked at that comment, "we've come to a ceasefire and even a possible alliance."

She looked up at him, and her eyes widened again.

"Sir Crosby! You're bleeding!"

He smiled, inadvertently causing the cut in his lip to reopen.

"It's just a flesh wound. Why don't you run along and Mr. Lugo and I will get cleaned up."

She smiled, and without warning grasped the Zulu Squad sergeant's waist in a tight hug.

"Oh! I'm so so happy! Sir Crosby and my savior Mr. Lugo are friends! This is the best day ever!"

She let out a particularly loud _kyaaa_ and skipped off.

Crosby smiled at the silliness of the situation, and stood up.

"Hey sarge? I've been meaning to ask. I've heard her make that noise, what the hell does it mean? Other than that fact it's obvious she's really happy about something."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"No idea, sergeant. I've been here almost a week and there some things you're probably better off not knowing the answer to. I'm not even sure how they can make that sound. C'mon, let's get cleaned up."

_(AN: So Crosby and Lugo have made up, hopefully to everyone's satisfaction. I always visualized people like Lugo and Crosby sorting out their differences Fight Club style. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it, and a special thanks to Jeggetts for planting a certain idea in my head concerning Siesta. If there are any things you want to see in this story like shout outs, references, tropes, etc, write it in the review or PM me with it. Worst I'll say is no. Next will be another interlude chapter. About what, says you? Well, says I, remember when I said that there would be 3 more characters of _Spec Ops: The Line_ that would crop up and that's it? Well, I lied LOL. Next chapter we find out what happened to a certain CIA agent after he bought the farm in Dubai. _


	14. The Devil's Disciple

CIA Agent Daniels felt the burning ebb, leaving only the dull throbbing after effects. His screaming slowly subsided, and when the interrogation room was quiet again, he heard the voice. It was the voice of his interrogator.

"You, Special Agent Daniels, you and I are brothers. Did you know that? We are, and before you discount it, allow me to explain."

He had no idea what they were using to burn his flesh with, although he suspected by the smell it was some sort of combustible fuel. They had blindfolded him as soon as he entered the interrogation chamber, but he could hear the interrogator walking away from him and he heard the sound of a chair scrapping the floor, as if someone was sitting down.

"I too, was captured by your insurgents, early in this little skirmish. I thought I was a pretty tough guy, too. I hacked my way through the sandboarding, I bit my tongue when they brought out the knives."

He paused, and Daniels suddenly felt his flesh melting off his arms and screamed in agony again. When Daniels' cries subsided the interrogator continued.

"But the fire...dammit I screamed like you wouldn't believe. I was ashamed, disappointed, but at least now I understood that each man has his breaking point. I made a vow then that I would make every insurgent and every enemy of the 33rd feel the same pain as I did. And when they break, they will be my brothers. So, Agent Daniels, you are my brother, because we both stared death in the face, and blinked."

"I suppose I was a bit premature, believe it or not we're saving the best for last. Now, you will tell me the location of the CIA's headquarters, so more lives can be saved, so the fighting can end, and so your pain can end. Where is the Nest?"

Daniels fought the urge to speak; he knew their mission was over if he gave up the base location. Then Castavin, Gould and Riggs would be killed. Gould he wouldn't have minded too much if that little shit died. He was the one dissenting opinion when Riggs brought up his plan of destroying the water supply as a means to cover up the 33rd's occupation of Dubai.

In the end he was even questioning Riggs' judgment, saying that Riggs' plan was insane, asking for verification. He hated Gould most because it was his fault that Daniels was in custody. The 33rd ambushed Daniels' cadre as they were making their way through the abandoned shipyards towards the OZ. They killed his team and brought him to the interrogator.

"Please," the interrogator interrupted his drifting thoughts, "continue to scream. Scream to your heart's content. Scream your head off. Any scream will do. You scream, I scream, we all scream, for ice cream!"

He heard his interrogator chuckle.

"The fact is that your screams will help save lives, Agent Daniels. Your screams are being recorded, and will be broadcast throughout Dubai, and will demoralize your insurgents, and lure your fellow CIA agents to an ambush that will result in their inevitable deaths, thereby ending the civil war in Dubai, and saving lives."

"So please," Daniels felt the burning pain on his flesh a third time, even worse than the last. "once more, with feeling!"

Daniels screamed, but his mind was aflame with anger and hatred; anger towards his fellow CIA Agent Gould, hatred towards his tormenters in the 33rd.

Damn them, he his mind screamed, and pleaded with any entity to release him from his torment. Unfortunately for him, there was one such an entity listening, and answered.

Daniels' psyche, or consciousness, or soul or whatever, found himself in the dark. There was a smell of something burning, and indirect orange light like lava or fire. There was a deep rumbling like the clashing of continental plates. It took him a moment to realize it was a chuckle.

**_"Special Agent Thomas Danielsssss, a man who was following orders that sent him to his torment and eventual death. You thirssssst for vengeance, but what would you give for it?"_**

"Anything! I will give anything for a chance to get back at those fuckers!"

Daniels' psyche screamed out.

There was a long pause, then an earthquake as the entire floor shook. The entity was laughing.

**_"Your anger and hatred will ssssserve my ends sssssufficiently. Very well, I will give you the revenge you sssssseek, in exchange you will sssssserve me and burn a world named Helkeginia in my name. Will you do thisssss for me?"_**

"Yesss."

Fire burned through Agent Daniels' veins, and he felt his muscles stretch and fray and his bones crack and reform. The pain was a thousandfold times worse than the burning, or the torture at the hands of the 33rd, and in a fleeting instant the small sliver of Daniels that was sane questioned the wisdom of striking bargains with fell entities and then was extinguished forever. In its place was a twisted creature bent on revenge. It bent its massive head down to look at his hands, seeing gnarled sinewy claws ending in sharp talons.

**_"Arise, my Red Right-Hand Dragon. Arise, Nahkriin!"_**

The creature that once was Thomas Daniels reared its head back and bellowed a roar of pain and anger, hellbent for revenge on the Damned 33rd.

_(AN: And then Special Agent Thomas Daniels was a dragon! More to the point, he is a Dragon to the Big Bad (who is also a dragon), whose name is...oh I'm not going to tell you His name, that would ruin the surprise! __Please mind the incoming hurricane of puns._

_So I am absolutely thrilled, there are over 3,000 hits on this story and the reaction and interest has surpassed my wildest dreams. Mind you my dreams are more mild than wild. Except for that one that involved Miley Cyrus and Megan Fox…_

_*ahem*_

_I'm going to take a couple of days off to catch up on my FOZ reading, and let the creative juices recharge. It seems that me taking anywhere from 2 days to a week off allows me to recover and jump back in and have these marathon writing sessions of churning out a chapter a day, so I hope to post another chapter by the weekend.  
>And I'm giving serious consideration to putting the Radioman in this verse, but still trying to find a place to put him in the story. If you like this idea, pm me and let me know your thoughts. And again thank you all for your viewsvisits/favs/follows/reviews!)_


	15. Too Late The Hero

_(AN: Wow. The chapter '_Applied Force'_ is ballooning into a monster chapter, to such a degree that I've developed a bit of a mental cramp. So I stepped away from it, and did something different. One of fans of this story suggested adding a new character to the story, so I churned this quick drabble out to help relieve the cramping. Hope you enjoy!)_

"Gentleman, it's official, we know the time and place when the CIA will launch an attack and try to steal the water. And we are pretty sure that they will have help from the trio of outsiders."

1st Lieutenant James Gordon let his words sink into the assembled men in what once was a fancy conference ballroom for a five star resort hotel attached to the Aquatic Coliseum, and was now repurposed as the officer's debriefing room. He powered up the slide projector as the lights dimmed.

"We've a couple of minor setbacks in our mission to destroy the CIA's influence on Dubai, but before I get into our strategy, there is something I want to address. I've been hearing whispers in the barracks and in the locker rooms that this Walker is some sort of implacable man who is unstoppable and un-killable. This is patently false."

He clicked a button on the projector, and it pulled up a fiche of Captain Walker's record.

"Our records indicate that this man is one Captain Martin Walker, of the 1st Special Forces Operation Detachment Delta, better known as Delta Force, and for added irony used to be one of us. But being a Delta boy doesn't mean shit. All that means is that he can count to twenty instead of ten like us regular grunts."

Gordon held up a .223 bullet.

"I don't give a damn if this Walker is a Delta boy or a Navy Seal or a goddam wingwiper's concubine, he's human and bleeds like all the rest of us. If you take one of these bullets, and put it in his right eye socket, he will die like anyone else. Now, the primary object is still to defend the water from being raided. I don't need to remind you of the implications of what happens if the CIA succeeds. If we fail the entire city will perish of thirst within weeks, possibly even days. We cannot let that happen. I'm going to be right there alongside you, right there in the sand and the blood and the dirt, and I will only let those bastards take the water over my dead body. Let's do this!"

There were a few cheers and hoots, but the mood sobered quickly as the men filed out.

His musings were interrupted when he saw one of his old NCO's. The grim-faced sergeant was still wearing his black and white Zulu Squad uniform, and nodded as the lieutenant spoke.

"Sgt. Crosby."

The man saluted him.

"Sir."

"As you were. How did the preemptive strike go?"

The sergeant chuckled humorlessly.

"How do you think it went? About as well as all the other raids. They escaped. Martinez said he sent in seven of his best men against those bastards, and they haven't reported back in, so I'm guessing they're all dead."

Gordon shook his head. Sgt. Crosby, callsign _Iceman,_ was the de-facto leader of the 33rd's elite counter-insurgent cadre nicknamed Zulu Squad, and was normally gruff and taciturn under the best of circumstances. But since the last botched operation, he had turned downright grim and single-minded in his quest to destroy Delta.

"I'm going to have you sit this one out, Crosby. I need you to coordinate the last of our squadron of Little Birds, ever since Lt. Benson bought it in Operation Cockroach."

Gordon wasn't there in Operation Cockroach, but he knew that the last ranking officer died when his chopper was shot down during the operation. He noticed the sergeant wince at the mention of the operation. One of the casualties, a private by the name of Pete Gobbi, was a close friend of Crosby's.

"I'm sorry Robert. Pete was a good kid."

The sergeant shot a glare up at his CO.

"You know he hadn't seen his baby girl since last Christmas, sir? And that bastard Walker didn't just kill him; he threw a sticky grenade on him! Blew him to pieces! What kind of sick bastard does that? The biggest piece I found of him was his left arm and an ear. What the hell am I supposed to give his widow? A flag draped shoebox?"

He sat down in one of the chairs and shook his head.

"Of course I'm assuming we'll survive this. As it is we're running out of officers. I've had to field-promote a lot of lower-ranking NCOs to the officer duty roster."

He smiled grimly.

"If this keeps up pretty soon we'll have specialists commanding privates."

Gordon looked at him for several minutes.

"When was the last time you slept, sergeant?"

Crosby shook his head.

"A while ago, sir. I'm fine, just need some time to process it, that's all."

He stood up.

"Tell Torrez to put more snipers in the rafters on the inside of the coliseum, sir. And reinforce that back door."

Gordon watched the brooding sergeant walk off, and then shook his own head as he left the debriefing room. The last 48 hours had been more brutal than even during the mutiny when Konrad's command squad turned on him. His thoughts were interrupted when he entered the hotel's gymnasium, now repurposed as the armory for the company guarding the coliseum. He greeted some of his men as he made his way over towards his locker and started to gear up.

As he strapped armored greaves to his shins and thighs he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Loot, I was always curious, how the hell do we go to the bathroom in this getup?"

He looked up and grinned.

"Easy, just do what we normally do and piss sand. Then when the mission's over just dust out the crotch and you're golden."

Sgt. Connors was a wisecracking NCO from Atlanta, and one of the best soldiers in his command. As the casualties mounted he volunteered to join Gordon and the 'Heavy Support Trooper' cadre, whose origins came from the 33rd's own EOD unit. In the days following the botched evacuation the 33rd's EOD unit used their suits and expertise to find survivors and supplies in the raging sandstorms. And also as heavy squad support in the ensuing chaos of the insurgency.

"I'll see you out there in the killzone sir!"

Connors grinned at his CO as he strapped his balaclava in place, decorated with a bright yellow smiley face.

* * *

><p>"I'm going into the killzone, cover me!"<p>

Gordon growled in his radio as he walked/waddling into the incoming small arms fire.

His jury-rigged armored chest plate absorbed most of the punishment. He felt a mild sting on his elbow, but it didn't seem serious. His AA-12 automatic shotgun was making short work of the insurgents as wave after wave of them threw themselves at the barricaded entrance of the coliseum. If this kept up the firefight should be over any minute now. Suddenly his radio crackled to life.

"Shit, El-tee get your ass in here now! Delta is in the Coliseum, I repeat, Delta is in the Coliseum. We need backup, now!"

Fuck, he thought. Quickly he barked into his radio.

"All units, fall back by fireteams on me, we need to secure those trucks. Connors, you think your squad can handle holding the entrance?"

Connor's distinctive voice came in through the static.

"Piece of cake, El-tee. These insurgents are pussies."

"Roger that, hold the line."

* * *

><p>Gordon continued to walk forward, shooting a M249 SAW that he picked up off sandbag emplacement inside. His legs were burning and he felt sweat sting his eyes, but he kept moving forward. Shooting, hoping and praying that the next burst would kill these damned Delta Force fucks. He couldn't believe that they shot their way inside through the back door. Of the fifty soldiers that he assigned to guard the inside, there were just three left, himself included. He heard a blast off to his left. Make that two. He felt a bullet hit the side of his head and almost threw him off balance.<p>

He had to keep moving. If he failed, Dubai would die of thirst. A horrible thought crossed his mind. What if that CIA spook Riggs lied to Walker? What if he hadn't told Walker of his intentions to destroy the water supply to cover up what happened in Dubai? He shook his head. He hoped that wasn't the case. Another bullet struck his chest, this one went through. He could feel blood trickling down his skin inside the suit. The throbbing pain in his head began to subside, and was replaced by a feeling of lightheadedness. He fought the urge to succumb. He had to keep moving, to stop Walker, he had to-

A frag grenade detonated at his feet, and Gordon was no more.

"Got the fucker!" yelled Walker.

When Gordon opened his eyes, he was surrounded by white light. Suddenly in front of him there was a beautiful woman, tall, lithe wearing a wispy thin toga-like garment of purple and gold. She also had hair that seemed swept by an unseen wind. It was also green, which struck him as odd. Her radiant face seemed sad.

**_"Poor Lieutenant James Gordon, I know you wanted to save them, but you couldn't. Do not feel remorse for your failure. Your thread within that Tapestry was woven to a predesigned pattern, one that you could not change. In a way it is better that you died when you did, rather than survive to see the aftermath."_**

"I'm guessing this is Heaven, or something."

She smiled.

**_"You are quite correct. I am the Weaver of Fate; I brought you here because there is another Tapestry, one whose pattern can be changed for the better. Here you can make a difference; here you can change the pattern. And if you accomplish this task, your actions will save thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of innocent lives. And you will know peace thereafter. Will you do this?"_**

He didn't reply, but nodded. She approached him and touched his armored breastplate.

**_Very well, welcome to your eternal reward, Lieutenant Gordon."_**

The next Gordon felt was a drowsy feeling, suns shining, and a cool breeze wafting over his face, as if he were dozing in a hammock on a lazy summer afternoon. Then he was jolted awake by a sudden loud voice right next to him.

_"Beep-Beep-Beep! This just in! With the death of dear old King Jimmy under very suspicious circumstances, the ceasefire between the dissenting nobles of Albion and the Reconquista has officially been cancelled. Nobles who are part of old Ollie Cromwell's dastardly cadre feel free to turn themselves in to any lynch mob that forms outside your castle. In the meantime here's a little tune for you to dance to while you hang!"_

_ 'That's great it starts with an earthquake,_

_birds and snakes, an aeroplane _

_and Lenny Bruce is not afraid_

_Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn_

_World serves its own needs, don't misserve your own needs-'_

Gordon opened his eyes and the oddest sight greeted him. He was in fact in a hammock, and it was a sunny afternoon. But the hammock was situated on the observation deck of some sort of stone building. As his eyes came into focus it looked he was on top of the tower of some old medieval Scottish castle.

Next to him at a heavy wooden desk filled with electronic equipment was a bearded man wearing a red Hawaiian camp shirt talking into a microphone. The man had finished speaking and flipped a knob by one of the machines turning on the music. He then faced the stunned lieutenant.

"Wow, look! Gordon's alive!" He said in a very dramatic voice.

When the lieutenant gave him an odd look, the man shrugged.

"Jeez you young guys don't respect any of the classics."

It was then that Gordon recognized the man by his voice.

"Darden? What the hell are you doing here?"

The man known as Robert Darden, or the Radioman to most of the 33rd, grinned.

"Got my face shot off and ended up here."

"What?"

"Yep, got capped by some obnoxious little shithead sniper, you might have seen him, he was part of a three man wrecking crew that called themselves Delta Force. By the way, nice job letting them steal the water."

Gordon looked shocked.

"You mean they-"

Darden shook his head and laughed.

"Oh, come on, Gordon you need to relax. That was another lifetime. That doesn't matter anymore, dude."

He stood up and stretched his arms spinning around.

"We're in a whole new world here, man!"

It finally clicked to the lieutenant's brain.

"The lady in the white light sent you here too."

The Radioman sat back down and lit up a cigarette.

"Yep. Sure did."

"What did she tell you?"

Darden's jovial face hardened.

"I don't want to talk about it."

When Gordon tried to press him on the subject, Darden changed tack.

"It's a long and boring and blah-blah-blah-blah sad sad story, nothing you wanna hear. But hey, look at the bright side, we're still breathing, and in this groovy new world."

He went over to a Fontaine Soda machine and punched it. A can of soda popped out of the opening, which he took and tossed over to the lieutenant, who deftly caught it.

"And the best part? Now we get to be the insurgents!"

_(AN: Taaa-dahhh! We have a Heavy, and the Radioman in Albion, stirring up the royalists against Cromwell and his cronies! Honestly I had to do some serious contortions to the plot to squeeze a Heavy __**and**__ the Radioman into this story, but I think it will be worth it. It might be Monday before I'm done with the next chapter '_Applied Force_,' like I said it's turning a monster chapter. In the meantime, keep visiting/viewing/fav/follow/reviewing!)_


	16. Applied Force

"You're going to marry into a country of upstart nobles?"

Louise was dumbfounded by what her friend the princess had told her. Princess Henrietta was still at the Academy as a guest of honor to observe the annual Familiar Exhibition. Of course the real reason was to be away from spies and prying eyes that inhabited the royal palace. She had stopped by Louise's room after dinner to visit, and the conversation turned the reason she sent them on that mission.

Apparently she was betrothed to Prince Albert of Germania, and the letter would have been a political disaster. There would have been a scandal, the betrothal severed and possibly war would have been declared. That wasn't what was on the forefront of the pink-haired noble's mind. The princess gave her friend a reassuring smile.

"I'm putting the needs of my country above that of my own, dear."

"But that's so unfair!"

"A marriage of convenience for the country, Tristain needs Germania's protection if there is war."

Saito had been bored by all the back and forth and made the mistake of putting in his two cents. Louise glared at him and struck him with her riding crop.

"Shut up, idiot dog! Nobody asked you!"

It was then that the princess noticed the ring on the table. Her eyes became very wide.

"Was this ring with the letter that was given to Mr. Konrad?"

Louise paused in her 'disciplining' of Saito.

"Yes, why? What is so special about it?"

Henrietta turned the ring over with her slender fingers.

"It is a ruby fire ring, a family heirloom that I gave it to him as a token of our undying love."

The princess suddenly clasped Louise's hands in her own.

"Louise Françoise Vallière, my dearest friend, I know you owe me nothing since you accomplished this task of retrieving the letter, but I fear I must ask another, more dangerous mission."

The pinkette looked puzzled.

"I-I don't understand, Henrietta, what's wrong?"

"This ring meant all the world to Prince Wales, if he sent this ring back to me it means he knows something bad is going to happen to him. I fear he may be in mortal danger. Will you help me?"

Louise nodded once.

"Of course I will help!"

"Good. I cannot tell you how much of a relief that is. I need you to go back to Tristainia and try to catch Mr. Konrad before he travels to Albion, go with him, and find a way to bring Prince Wales back to Tristain."

The pink haired girl seemed to lost in thought for a moment.

"Princess Henrietta, there is another person I would like to bring along. He is not a knight or a noble, but he comes from the same world as Sir Crosby, he is a soldier like him."

"If you trust him, then I trust him as well. Do this for me and I will be forever in your debt."

* * *

><p><strong>(meanwhile, in the corridor of the Wind tower)<strong>

"I'm telling you, sarge you should go ahead with it. I mean, it's worked out for Saito and hell, even me. Besides, have you seen the rack on that babe?"

Crosby shook his head.

"For the last time sergeant, Miss Zerbst is a teenager, I'm turning 36 next…well I would have turned 36 in a few months if it weren't for a trio of trigger-happy Delta Operators."

Lugo didn't rise to the bait but grinned.

"You're changing the subject, sarge."

"The point is I'm more than half her age and even if it's permissible in this world I still think it's wrong."

They opened the doors to the student dorm rooms and climbed the stairs. Siesta had helped them clean up from their little improvised fistfight, and told them that the pink-haired noble was looking for them. As they made their way down the hallway towards Louise's room Crosby continue.

"…now, if some wealthy widow closer to my age bracket shows up and has a thing for scarred-up soldiers from another world with a mild case of PTSD, then I may consider it."

The Delta Force sniper shook his head.

"Your loss man."

When they were almost there Crosby held up a hand to stop Lugo. There was someone crouched by the doorway. The Zulu squad sergeant put a finger to his lips and snuck up behind the interloper, and pounced. Unfortunately for both of them the door was about to be opened.

* * *

><p>The princess stood up to leave, when Louise opened the door to let her out, only to have Guiche, Sir Crosby and Mr. Lugo come crashing down on the floor. The pinkette looked shocked.<p>

"What th-"

Crosby was the first to stand.

"My lady, your highness, myself and Sgt. Lugo saw this person eavesdropping. We attempted to apprehend him and ending up here."

She glared at the blonde.

"Guiche! Were you listening all this time?"

The blonde straightened up and made a sweeping bow to the princess.

"I have, and I, Guiche de Gramont, offer my services to you, your Highness. I want to help in this secret mission."

Crosby turned to the princess.

"What secret mission?"

* * *

><p><strong>(Exactly 4 minutes and 26 seconds later…)<strong>

"Like hell you are, kid."

Crosby turned from Guiche back to the princess.

"Honestly your Highness, if it weren't for the fact that you are ordering me to take Louise and Saito I wouldn't even bring them along on this mission. But I'm not risking this mission just because Leeroy Jenkins here wants to show off."

Guiche looked hurt by what he said.

"But, Sir Crosby, I thought we were friends."

"We are friends, kid. That is precisely why I don't want you along. This mission has 'bad news and danger' written all over it. The stakes are too high, if we fail this mission, then war is the outcome."

He gestured to the pinkette.

"Louise has her destructive magic ability whenever she goes all She-Hulk, and her familiar at least understands how our weapons work."

Saito snickered at the reference. Louise was only vaguely aware that it was a veiled insult about her short temper. The soldier continued.

"Both proved to me that they can hold their own after that fight with the thief."

He put a hand on Guiche's shoulder, who was looking crestfallen.

"Look, you got heart kid, but putting the stakes of the mission aside, I don't want to be responsible for your untimely demise just because you want to impress the ladies."

"Um, sarge."

Crosby turned back to Lugo.

"What is it, Lugo?"

"If what the princess said is true, then Guiche is privy to confidential information. That makes him a security risk. It would be easier just to have him tag along."

Crosby turned back and saw the princess and Louise looking at him expectantly. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Your observations are noted, sergeant. But my conditions are clear. I'll help in this mission, and even bring Louise and her familiar along, but the fop stays behind. And that's final."

* * *

><p><strong>(the next morning, outside the walls of the Academy)<strong>

Crosby led the column of horseback riders out of the school. He looked an odd sight with his Zulu Squad armor and helmet coupled with the dark blue chevalier cloak. His P90 dangled on a sling and was resting on the pommel of his saddle, his two handguns were secured to his vest and thigh-rig, respectively. The 'Staff of Destruction' was secured in a saddle holster made by one of the stable hands at the academy. He wore his googles and balaclava as well; they would help keep the dust out of his eyes and face on this trip.

It also concealed his foul disposition. His dour thoughts were interrupted as a rider pulled up beside him. Lugo pulled his keffiyeh scarf down and spoke.

"Hey, sarge! As the farmer said to the horse, why the long face?"

The old soldier shook his head.

"I must be losing my edge."

"Oh come on sarge. Quit with the sulking. It's beneath you."

"There was a time, sergeant, when I gave the final word people would not only listen, they would stand straighter and follow their orders with gusto."

Lugo grinned.

"So the princess gave you both barrels, pleading her case with those big, shimmering beautiful blue eyes, so what?"

Crosby glared at the Delta Force sniper.

"That's enough, sergeant."

Lugo continued.

"…just because you allowed Guiche to come along doesn't mean you caved. Well, actually you did, but hey, these local gals are real cute when they do that eye-shimmer thing and look at you like that…"

Crosby sighed.

"Are you quite through, sergeant?"

"…it just means you're starting thaw and become more human, sarge. I mean, the Grinch's heart grew three sizes last night. Well, maybe more like two sizes. Maybe one. I don't know, can Grinch's hearts grow in half-size increments?"

He looked over to Crosby who was giving him a flat look, made more impressive that he could see it through his balaclava.

"Done, sergeant?"

Lugo thought for a moment.

"Yep, I'm golden."

"Then zip the lip and take point."

Lugo grinned as he pulled his scarf back up over his face and spurred his horse ahead. Crosby shook his head.

"I'm getting soft."

He pulled himself out of his thoughts to focus on the mission. He wasn't going to let anyone die on his mission, not on his watch. Mentally he went over the mission parameters. They had to reach Tristainia before sundown. According to the princess, there was an annual festival day after tomorrow in Londinium where merchants and craftsman from all over Helkeginia would converge and sell their wares. And it was under that cover that they would converge in Londinium, and make contact with the prince at the festival. Then they would slip out of the country by cover of night, travel back to Tristain and off to meet the princess in Tarbes, where she and the prince would profess their love for one another and get officially recognized as a royal couple, bury the hatchet with her kingdom and Albion, and live happily ever after. Oh, and prevent a large and bloody war in the process. A simple mission.

A simple mission, if he had three weeks to prepare, his old cadre of Zulu Squad soldiers, a long-range transport for discrete insertion and quick extraction, and satellite communication.

As it was he had one evening to prepare, one wisecracking Delta Force sniper whom a week ago he would have shot on sight, one teenager from Tokyo who played video games, one pink-haired witch with unpredictable magical abilities and a hair-trigger temper, and one fop whose combat readiness was dubious at best, if his dueling skills were anything to go off of.

He heard a shrill screech and turned in the saddle to look back. Saito didn't have a horse so he had to share one with Louise, with her riding saddle and him riding behind her. He wasn't sure what caused the pinkette to abuse her familiar, but he assumed the luckless teen had copped a feel, whether on purpose or accident. He could almost hear Saito talking.

"…Come on, it was an accident! I couldn't even feel them, they're so flat."

Crosby facepalmed. That kid must have a deathwish. The pinkette had many berserker buttons to go with her hair-trigger temper, but calling her flat-chested would make her go ballistic. As it was she kicked him off and dragged him behind her horse by the chain on his collar. His thoughts were interrupted by his radio crackling to life.

_"Sarge, we've got a tango ahead, and you should see this."_

"Roger that, coming up front."

He held up a hand to bring the column to a halt and rode up. When he geared up this morning he found it odd that his radio was switched off. He didn't remember turning it off, but then again until Lugo showed up it would have been worthless anyways.

When he arrived at the Delta sniper's position he froze. There was a man, about his age, wearing something that looked straight out of a bad Three Musketeers movie. But the kicker was the person's mode of transport. It was a griffon! He heard Lugo whistle.

"Man, I thought I've seen everything, but a dude riding a griffon? That takes the taco."

The rider dismounted and made a flourishing bow.

"Greetings travelers, I am Jean-Jaques Francis Viscount de Wardes, at your service."

Lugo leaned in.

"Man, that's a mouthful. Doesn't anyone around here just go by Smith?"

Crosby shushed him, and pushed his goggles off his eyes and pulled down his balaclava before he spoke.

"Greetings, Count Wardes. I am Sir Robert Crosby, of Zulu Squad, this man is my squire Sergeant John Lugo, and my retinue. I apologize for my manners but we must be off, as we have pressing business."

The count raised an eyebrow as he took in Crosby and Lugo's odd clothes.

"And what business is that, Sir Crosby, Noble Knight whose order I do not recognize?"

Crosby leaned forward in the saddle.

"Our own business."

The verbal standoff was interrupted by Louise.

"What is the meaning of this holdup, Sir Crosby-oh?"

He turned back and saw that there was recognition in the pinkette's eyes.

"Louise, my dove!"

The voice had him turn back to the count, who strode up and swept the girl off her horse and held her in a tight embrace, one that unless he was her father or favorite uncle would have seemed inappropriate. She for her part looked flushed and embarrassed. The count released her and turned back to the soldier.

"My apologies, Sir Crosby, for my ill manners, I had received word that Louise Vallière was traveling to Tristainia on a mission of her Highness Princess Henrietta, and volunteered my services."

"Mighty big of you, Wardes."

Lugo voiced the suspicion that was creeping in Crosby's mind.

"Naturally, I would do anything to guard the safety of my fiancée."

"Your WHAT?" All three of the Earth-born males said at once.

The Count looked puzzled.

"Louise Vallière is my fiancée; we are betrothed to be married."

Crosby raised his hand, forestalled any further comments from Saito or Lugo.

"And what exactly do you know about this 'mission', count?"

The count gave a conspiratorial smile.

"Please, Sir Crosby. I am aware that the princess wishes the well-being of one certain prince in Albion. My orders are to be part of your retinue under your command, to escort you to the coast, see you safely off to Albion, and when you arrive with your 'guest' to see to his well-being until such a time when the princess can meet him."

Crosby nodded. The man's knowledge of the mission troubled him, but he wouldn't be coming along on the dangerous parts of the mission anyways, so he wouldn't be a liability. And once they made it back into Tristain with the prince it would cease to be his problem.

"Alright, you're in. Count, you take up the rear guard. Lugo, you're back on point. Let's double time it, we're burning up daylight."

The count made another flourishing bow.

"As you command, Sir Crosby."

He turned back to Louise.

"Come, my dear, you can ride with me."

Crosby noticed that Saito didn't look very happy about the situation. Lugo spoke up.

"Look at it this way, dude, at least you don't have to worry about her hitting you. And you got your own horse."

Crosby shook his head.

"Sergeant, do you even hear the crap that's comes out of your mouth?"

Without skipping a beat Lugo piped up.

"No sarge, I feel that it messes with my comic rhythm."

* * *

><p>It was almost dusk when the unusual column made its way into Tristainia. If Crosby thought that they got odd looks the first time he came here with Louise and Saito, they were getting full blown stares now. Fortunately they reached Konrad's shop without incident. He met them outside, with a large covered wagon teeming with wares. Crosby dismounted and saluted his former CO.<p>

"Colonel Konrad, sir!"

Konrad returned the salute and smiled.

"Well, Sir Robert Crosby, it would appear as though I've been drafted again. And it would appear that you're back under my command, so as you were, sergeant."

He looked over the retinue.

"And you brought more friends, it would appear. Come inside the shop, we don't have much time before the airship leaves for Londinium."

* * *

><p>"…That should about cover it, are there any questions, Count Wardes?"<p>

The count shook his head.

"Just one, Mr. Konrad, you seem to have noble bearings for a commoner..."

The condescending way the count spoke to his commanding officer raised Crosby's hackles, but he said nothing.

"…and you and the noble knight Sir Crosby seem to have a history, and since I cannot ask him directly for fear of besmirching his noble character and having him take offense…"

If Konrad was put off by the count's patronizing manner he did not show it, but gave a patient smile.

"It's alright, Count Wardes, what do you wish to ask of me?"

"Does the noble knight Sir Crosby have feelings for my fiancée Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière?"

"WHAT?"

_(AN: Yeah I'm awful for ending there, but honestly this was so long I had to chop it in half. _

_'Huh-Huh-Huh, you said-'_

_Shut it. Jeez I can't take me anywhere._

_So as I said, this chapter was getting so bloated I'm dividing it up in two parts like I did 'Damn Close'. Also because I felt so masochistic there is one more character that will make an appearance in the next part. He will be a background character though. Honestly this is the last one, because right now it's getting crowded and Helkeginia isn't big enough for a bunch of testosterone-charged soldiers to be running amok in. _

_Hopefully I'll have the second part done by the weekend. I'm off to bed, now. Thanks for the continued interest!)_


	17. Applied Force, Part Deux

"WHAT?"

This time the exclamation was Crosby and the pinkette.

"That's ridiculous! Sir Crosby is my bodyguard, nothing more!"

"…and besides I'm old enough to be that violent little pipsqueak's father! Course if I was her father, she'd get spanked more!"

"How dare you talk to me like that!"

Konrad just continued to smile.

"You two do fight a lot like an old married couple, sergeant."

He turned back to the count.

"I think they answered your question, Count Wardes, but in case you missed it, whilst I can't speak for Miss Vallière, I can speak for Sir Crosby, and the answer is most definitively no."

The count seemed satisfied and nodded.

"Any other questions?"

Saito raised his hand.

"Um, could I get a weapon? I mean Guiche and Louise have wands and magic? I mean, you have a spare pistol."

It was Crosby who replied.

"No."

"What? What do you mean."

"What is it with kids these days? I mean 'No,' as in the opposite of 'Yes'. Guns are dangerous, kid."

"But you gave me one in the fight with Fouquet."

"That was different, it was a limited engagement and I had no other choice in the matter. No. Guns."

Louise spoke up.

"Could I get a sword for my familiar, Mr. Konrad?"

Konrad scratched his chin.

"Well, most of my goods are packed and already spoken for. But I have a barrel back there by the horseshoe rack that's the bargain bin. You're welcome to any of the weapons there. Free of charge."

Saito huffed. He was going on a mission with real soldiers, and he wasn't even able to carry a gun, instead he was getting a sword, a crummy rusty old sword from the reject pile. He walked over to the barrel and started searching. There were maces, battle axes, short swords, bastard swords-

"Hey, buddy! Watch the hands, and watch what you're grabbing!"

-and apparently a talking sword. Saito looked dumbfounded.

"You-you talk?"

"Yep, I talk, I chatter, I can even sing if you like."

Crosby shook his head. This day couldn't possibly get any weirder.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one hearing the sword talk." He said.

"Crosby?"

A second voice spoke, and this one all three of the soldiers recognized the voice.

"McPherson? What the hell?"

The sword's first voice spoke again.

"Oh, yeah, there's the new guy, what was your name again?"

Crosby interrupted.

"McPherson? What happened to you?"

There was a long pause, when the sword spoke again it was McPherson's voice.

"It's a long story Sgt. Crosby. Ah, can you do me a favor?"

"Um, sure. Why not?"

"Come closer."

Crosby advanced on the sword that Saito was holding. It was old, very old but highly ornate and had an odd rune on the blade flat edge by the cross guard. McPherson's voice spoke again.

"Just…grab the hilt."

Saito offered it to him and he took it. Immediately the rune glowed and Crosby felt engulfed in a white light.

* * *

><p>Memories began rushing past him. He was taking his platoon out to check on the distress beacon at the edge of the ruined city. The ambush by the insurgents. His capture and interrogation by Castavin. He felt an immense anger at the CIA agent for provoking the civilians into more civil war with the 33rd. He was buying time, knowing that his fellow soldiers were raiding the Nest even as his tormenter taunted him. Then there appeared three men, wearing clothes similar to Castavin. There was a heavy gunner, a sniper, and someone who looked familiar, and was probably the leader.<p>

"Hold your fire!"

The leader spoke.

"Lower your weapon!" The heavy gunner ordered.

"Do I look stupid to you?" He asked rhetorically.

"No." the leader replied. "That's why you're going to point that pistol somewhere else."

"Lower your weapon, I'll lower mine."

"Not gonna happen." The heavy gunner retorted.

The leader lowered his weapon.

He could hear distant gunfire, his fellow soldiers from the 33rd were already raiding the Nest, he just needed to get to them.

"You got a name?" The leader asked.

"McPherson, 1st Lieutenant." He purposefully gave out as little information as possible.

"You?"

"Walker, Captain." The leader, Captain Walker, appeared to be of the same mindset. He continued.

"We found your friend at the plane; he told us where to find you."

That got his attention.

"Really? Where's he at?" His hopes jumped at the thought some of his platoon surviving. When the insurgents took him away from the wrecked airliner, there were still two left alive, Vandellas and Murphy. If one of them survived...

"He didn't make it."

...his hopes were dashed, and in its place arose the old suspicions.

"Why am I not surprised." He said bitterly. The heavy gunner got angry.

"So what? You think we killed him?"

Bingo. Best way to implicate a guilty party is to insinuate, and let them hang themselves with their own words. Best not to overplay his hand.

"I didn't say that." He lied.

"You're not saying much of anything, Lieutenant!"

It was clear that the leader, Walker, was getting impatient.

"Article 4, Captain. You gotta speak to my commander."

He said the words mockingly, like this CIA hired gun would know what rank meant. He knew he was walking a tightrope just talking to him, but he had to stall for time. It would be suicide to try to take on all of these newcomers with just a handgun. He edged away from the three men towards the rappel rope.

"Well, where is he at?" Walker demanded.

"By now I imagine he's just downstairs."

He was almost there.

"Yeah, I'll bet." Walker said sarcastically.

"Why don't you wait here," Just a few more feet. "I'll go get him."

He rappelled to safety.

"And order him to plug you full of holes." He said under his breath as he slid.

More memories rushed past. He heard himself order his men to fire on that three man team. There was a small shadow of doubt in his mind. Maybe they really were an Army recon team, sent to find survivors. Maybe he should try talking to them when both sides weren't pointing guns at each other. He ignored it, with all the gunfire going on, preventative diplomacy was not an option. In the midst of a huge firefight, applied force was. As his men opened fire on Walker and his team, he felt pain as one of the bullets struck him in the throat. His mind raged at the stupidity of surviving being executed by the CIA only to be killed by a stray bullet.

As darkness enveloped him, he could hear the sound of distant rumbling, like thunder. It took him a while to realize it was laughter. Then he heard a voice, hypnotic and sinister.

**"Yessss, they killed you before you could have your revenge…"**

Then there was another voice.

_"Lieutenant John McPherson, you were the loyal soldier following orders. But what did it bring?" _

It was soft and definitely feminine. The other voice spoke louder, more forcefully.

**"Don't listen to her, mortal! You want your revenge, what will you give for it?"**

_"Listen to your warrior's heart John, and see what your thirst for revenge has wrought."_

Then it all flashed before his eyes. The bloodbath at the Nest with all those luckless soldiers buried under the sand, the Gate Massacre with over 200 lives lost to white phosphorus, the raid on the water depot, the chopper dogfight in the sandstorm.

In the end, he saw Walker and Adams, screaming mad from all the killing, murdering the last remnants of 33rd like wild animals. His friends and fellow soldiers dead. Because of him. Because he would not question orders. Shame quenched the flames of anger, and the sinister voice seemed to feel that.

**"No! I will not be denied! Do not let go of your anger! Only your hate can save you!"**

**_"Begone."_**

The femine voice spoke again, just as softly as before but the command was more forceful than any shout. He felt the world go white, and was face to face with a tall woman with green tresses. Her beautiful face looked sad.

**_"You poor man. John McPherson, your obedience and loyalty to your superiors made you blind. And your blindness caused so much death and anguish."_**

His shame turned to sadness, and he felt tears streaming down his face as he cried.

"All my fault. It's all my fault."

He fell to his knees and wept bitterly. He felt soft hands stroking his hair. He looked up and saw her crouched next to him. Looking into his eyes with pity.

"Please," he said. "let me go back. Let me stop this madness from happening. Let me save my friends!"

He felt his heart sink as the beautiful lady shook her head sadly and slowly.

**_"What has been woven into a pattern in the Tapestry cannot be unwoven, John."_**

She stood up and gently pulled him to his feet.

**_"However, there may be another way."_**

His spirits soar with hope. He clasped her delicate hand.

"Yes, what is it?"

**_"There is another Tapestry, in which the pattern can be altered. Your presence there can help undo the damage your blindness wrought. If you can mend what was broken, you will receive absolution, and your eternal reward. Will you do this?"_**

He nodded eagerly.

"Yes! If it will help, I will do anything."

* * *

><p>"In hindsight I should have requested clarification from the Lady before I said 'I'll do anything', especially if it involves being stuck in a magical sword."<p>

"Um, hellooo, did you forget about me? The 6,000 year old celebrity?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant could have sworn he heard McPherson sigh.

"Yes, how could I forget Derflinger the Great and Mouthy."

Saito looked puzzled.

"Wait, you mean there are two of you in there?"

It was McPherson's voice that spoke up.

"Yep. And it's as awkward as it sounds. You ever been in the dorms, kid?"

The teenager nodded.

"Well, it's like sharing a very cramped dorm room with a loudmouthed roommate that won't stop talking and you can't get a word in edgewise. And we're not even going to get into the smell."

Derflinger spoke up.

"Oh, well excuuuuse me Mr. Fancy Pants. You know you didn't exactly smell like a bouquet of lilies when you showed up. Dried blood and bad BO. Didn't you have bathing where you came from?"

"No, because we were trapped in a city in the desert with no WATER! And since we're on the subject of odor, you smell like an outhouse that's been baking in the sun for 6,000 years."

Konrad decided to interrupt.

"As charming as this reunion is we really have to get to the docks, or we will miss our airship and not make it in time for the festival."

He shook his head.

"I can officially say this is the oddest day I have ever had in my new life here. And that counts the time I woke up with an elf."

He saw the look on Crosby's face.

"Never mind, it's a long story."

He clapped Saito on the back.

"Well, son I think you found yourself a real sword. I can't vouch for this Derflinger fellow, but Lt. McPherson is a fine soldier, and he'll make hero out of you, right Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

Derflinger's voice spoke up.

"Okay, now that we got the stuffy 'yes, sir, no, sir' boring stuff out of the way, we ready for our adventure?"

_(AN: And then John was a zombie, er, talking sword. Okay, I'll say it for you. "Ain't I a little stinker?"  
>Seriously I always thought Lt. McPherson was an idiot for shooting first and asking questions later, so I figured I'd give him this.<em>

_Seriously I forgot to have Saito get the sword and when I remembered it I thought of this. Let me know what you think. Next chapter, Albion!)_


	18. Good Training

_(AN: Oops, I've made my first in a many string of boo-boo's._

_I forgot to have Lugo confront Konrad in the blacksmith shop! My bad! Props to Trainalf for catching that one. That's why it's important to sit on a chapter and sleep on it then look at the next morning. My rationale was that Konrad doesn't know Lugo from Adam(s) and Lugo didn't have the same Ahab obsession with Konrad that Walker had. Still, a plot hole is a pot hole that can ruin a good story like it ruins a nice tire rim. Okay, it's past midnight here so I'll stop with the rambling._

_Anyways, I was planning on doing a scene cut to them in Londinium, but I decided to add a small interlude aboard the airship. And this airship I'm taking some liberties with (no, not those kinds get your mind out of the gutter!) so it's kind of like a ferry/cruise ship. _

Lugo was looking out on the railing of the massive airship, marveling at the night sky, feeling the cool breeze on his face. Louise, Saito and Guiche had decided to check out the ship's promenade, which had several gift shops and a casino. Crosby had retired to Konrad's cabin presumably to catch up. This left him there, on one of the observation decks, getting some fresh air. He looked up and marveled at the two moons.

"Quite a sight isn't it."

Lugo turned around and saw Konrad leaning against one of the main masts of the airship. He pointed up at the two moons.

"You know, when I arrived here, I wasn't convinced I was in another world. I was still trying to rationalize that I was still on Earth, that all the things that happened before was just a dream."

He walked up to the railing and leaned on the railing.

"Of course my first day here I had encountered a young lady."

He noticed the look that Lugo was giving him. He smiled.

"Oh, she was quite attractive, and well endowed, too. I don't think Miss Vallière would like her. Anyways, I had rescued her from dishonor at the hands of several disreputable men, thanks to my trusty sidearm I used to end my life and still had on my person, and in gratitude she took me in."

He propped up his elbows so he could gaze up at the sky.

"It was on my first night, when I looked out the window and saw two moons, that it hit me. I truly was in another world. Everything from then on would be different. Well, that and the young lady turned out to be an elf."

He looked over to Lugo.

"Sergeant John Lugo, isn't it? Things were so hairy back in Tristainia getting to the port that we did not have a chance to be formally introduced. I am John Konrad, formerly Colonel John Konrad, commander of the 'Damned 33rd."

When Lugo didn't respond, he continued.

"I had a long chat with Crosby, about you, your teammate Lt. Adams, and especially Captain Walker."

Lugo smiled bitterly.

"When Crosby called you Konrad at the shop, I was kind of hoping it was a different Konrad."

The old commander turned blacksmith shook his head.

"Relax, sergeant. I'm unarmed as you might have noticed, and I'm not going to strike you. You may have had complicity in killing my men, but you were following orders. And I certainly can't damn a man for following orders when I myself have been guilty of the same."

Lugo was shocked at the admission. He had always pictured Konrad to be this swaggering, proud, Patton-like archetype. The man in front of him was more like a war-weary veteran who had seen too much suffering. Then again, he had based a lot of his assumptions off of Walker's descriptions. Konrad continued.

"No, Lugo, I'm more disappointed and saddened that my former protégé would have turned out so wrong. I blame myself for that."

He saw the look on Lugo's face.

"Did Walker ever tell you what happened when we served together in Afghanistan?"

Lugo shook his head, still trying to process what was being said. Konrad continued.

"It doesn't surprise me. He was a 1st Lieutenant back then; I could see potential in him the moment he arrived on transfer to my battalion. He himself had followed my career, and that was one of the reasons he chose infantry after graduating from ROTC. He was everything you could ask for in a young officer; talented, bright, charismatic. The men in his platoon loved him, and he was like a father to all them."

Konrad's face darkened.

"I wish he did not have to endure the things he witnessed there. The things he lost. That's why it doesn't surprise me that he didn't tell you. Very few men could survive so terrible an ordeal to live to tell about it would want to tell about it. Suffice it to say it was a life-changing event for him. Still, had I known he was carrying that burden when he entered into Dubai, I would have done things differently."

He looked over to Lugo, who was still speechless.

"Sergeant, you have to understand that no matter what atrocities you committed, in Dubai and or wherever, it pales in comparison to the terrible decisions I had to make in that hellhole. I have more blood accumulated on my hands from those six months in Dubai, then you could ever accumulate in a lifetime in any disciple in the military. The important thing is that now, we all have a fresh slate in this new world."

He looked up again at the moons wistfully.

"Though, with the recent events I'm starting to doubt the Lady's promise of peace."

Lugo finally spoke.

"Sir, I believe the Lady. She told me I would become a knight in shining armor, and save the fair maiden, slay the dragon; that was a dream I had since I was a kid. It's the reason I enlisted. And she granted me that. So I have to believe our mission will succeed."

Konrad smiled at the young sergeant.

"Yes, Crosby has told me all about Siesta. According to him she's taken quite a fancy to you."

Lugo rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Yeah he and I had a long talk about that on the way to Tristainia, a sort of 'What are your intentions concerning my adopted kid sister' talk. I like her,and I'd like to make it work. I always wanted to settle down."

The smile on Konrad's face stretched into a grin.

"Well, you best make that you top priority once this mission is over. Don't wait too long or the opportunity will slip you by."

He opened the hatch that led to the promenade.

"And don't forget to grab some shut-eye. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

Lugo saluted and grinned.

"Yes, sir!"

_(AN: So, Lugo and Konrad have cleared the air, and we can proceed with the plot! Let me know what you guys think. Developing Konrad as a character is tricky because I have to visualize Bruce Boxleitner speaking when I write Konrad's dialog. Next stop, Londinium!)_


	19. Situational Awareness

_(AN: Okay, so apparently between work and the marathon writing sessions I've managed to get myself sick again. So I need to take a couple of days off and recoop. And watch more FOZ. I promise I'll get back to this as soon as possible. If I feel up to it I'll try and finish the second part of this by the end of the weekend._

_And to all who've visited/fav/follow/commented, a big Merci! 5,000 hits as of this morning. This story has come a long way from a one-shot that was published two weeks ago. So thank you all for reading and for your support. _

_As I said I've split this chapter in two parts, mostly to give you something to read while I recover. Enjoy and see you Monday!)_

Louise struggled with a large cuirass as she tried to set it up on display. The suit of armor teetered and fell to the ground with a colossal crash. She let out a theatrical sigh.

"This is sooo much work! When do we go on break?"

Saito shook his head. Ever since they arrived in Albion earlier in the day she had been complaining nonstop about the workload. Before they disembarked Crosby-san had debriefed them on their roles in this mission.

"This mission will only work if all the gears of the machine work in sync with one another. If one of the cogs is out of whack the mission will be put in jeopardy. And the stakes are high enough that I don't want that happening. So I want this to go smoothly, and by the numbers."

He turned Konrad.

"Colonel Konrad has decided that we will both present ourselves as blacksmiths. He will speak about the fact that he is not getting any younger and that one day all this will be mine."

He nodded to Lugo.

"Lugo, you will have the role of the striker, or the muscle who handles the large hammer, works the bellows, basically you do all the grunt work."

The Delta Force sniper saluted with a grin.

"If I have to get shirtless and sweaty for the mission I don't mind it sarge. And if it impresses the ladies…"

Crosby rolled his eyes, and looked over to Saito and Guiche.

"You two are posing as Konrad's apprentices, and your duties are to set up the tent, the displays, deliver parcels to clients, pick up raw materials and act as the barkers who draw in clients."

He turned to Louise, smiling.

"Since you aren't exactly low profile you are going to pose as Konrad's servant girl, responsible for cleaning and light duty. Your main job is to stay out of the way."

The pinkette huffed.

"Hmphf! I can do any job these boys can do. Do not worry about me, Sir Bodyguard Crosby. I am a Vallière, and a Vallière never backs down from a challenge."

* * *

><p>Which brought Saito back to listening to Louise whine about doing all the hard work, not wanting to remind her that it was her idea. At least Crosby had confiscated her riding crop.<p>

Crosby and Konrad had gone off to speak to the guild members who were setting up the festival, and to gather some intelligence, leaving Lugo in charge of supervising set up. He himself was stripped to the waist and covered in soot from the forge bellows.

"C'mon, Pinkie, if you spent as much time working as you did whining you'd be done by now."

She shot him a glare and was about to retort when Saito piped up.

"Yes, and if you hadn't blown all our money gambling at the casino we wouldn't need to do the setup ourselves."

Louise directed her glare at her familiar.

"Shut up, dog-familiar! For the record I spent a large amount of money on Sir Crosby's chevalier outfit for the ball."

She lowered her head and said in a much lower voice.

"I just spent the rest of it at the casino."

Lugo cocked his head to one side.

"What, sarge went to a fancy dress ball? Man, I would've paid good money to see him in a monkey suit embarrassing himself on the dance floor."

She huffed.

"For your information, Mr. Lugo, Sir Crosby was quite the noble and had as his escort none other than my friend Princess Henrietta."

That caused Lugo to drop his toolbox.

"What? The sarge? And the princess? Wow, I take that back, I would have paid a fortune to see him dance with the princess."

Louise shrugged as she balanced an armored helmet on the display.

"I don't see why it's so shocking. Sir Crosby can have noble bearings when he bothers."

The pinkette was polishing a kite shield, and then spoke up.

"What happened in the world you came from, was it as bad as Sir Crosby said?"

Lugo chuckled humorlessly.

"Depends on what he said. Dubai was overrun with a sandstorm for over six months. Water, food, everything you would take for granted was scarce, to the point where people were killing each other for basic things like a cup of water. As for our history, well let's just say his reaction to seeing me for the first time was not unjustified."

She nodded.

"I admit when I first saw him I was scared of him."

She shuddered as she remembered when he first appeared in the courtyard after she summoned him, his duel with Guiche, his confrontation with the thief Fouquet. In all those instances what she remembered most was those cold, blue eyes.

"Well, he was a member of Zulu Squad, which was one of the toughest and most ruthless cadres of soldiers within the 33rd, so being intimidating is part of the job."

She looked up to Lugo.

"Is he a good person?"

The young soldier looked thoughtful.

"I think so. I mean, he's rough around the edges, and I think he hides his feelings for others under a façade of toughness."

He winked at Louise.

"Not unlike some other people I know."

He thought back to what the Lady in the Light said.

"But I believe he is a good person. I know he wouldn't be here if he wasn't."

She lowered her voice.

"Will you do me a favor, Mr. Lugo? Don't tell Sir Crosby how much I spent on his outfit. I don't want him feeling guilty."

The younger soldier grinned.

"Hell, I'm telling him you pissed all your money away on a sucker bet at the casino. He'll be scolding you for a week after that."

She scowled at him.

"Idiot! What I do with my own finances is nobody's business but my own."

"Whatever, but if you don't mind, we, have work to do."

He gestured to the large pile of crates still unpacked. She looked at him incredulously.

"What do you mean?"

Lugo grinned.

"Let me put this in words you will understand, kiddo. 'Lugo the Striker is telling Pinkie the Whiner less whiny and more worky.' Got it?"

"Idiot!"

* * *

><p>Crosby watched as Konrad paid the guild members.<p>

"You know, Honored Fellow of the Craft, it would appear as though the cost of selling wares at this festival has gone up. I seem to remember old man Couteau telling me when I took over for him that he paid only fifteen sovereigns."

The guild member shrugged.

"Times are tough, people aren't buying as many things in these uncertain times. Ever since Good King James died in that hunting accident three months ago, things have been upside down."

One of the other guild members, a fat man with a ruddy red beard spoke up.

"Accident, oh my friend James' death was no accident. It was the Reconquista that did him in. If something should happen to his son Wales, there will be trouble, mark my words."

Konrad wisely steered the conversation back towards the guild's share. After negotiating a lower percentage he left with Crosby.

At the mention of the prince Crosby's thoughts were taken back to just before the departed for Albion, when the group was having supper at a tavern by the docks.

Count Wardes had eaten very little, and had spent most of the meal staring at the sergeant. It was getting on Crosby's nerves.

"With respect to the count, you act as though you are going to say something, and yet you say nothing."

"I know that there are certain protocols to be followed in such matters, but I fear that time is rapidly getting away from us and I must insist."

"Spit it out, your countship. Time's a'wasting."

Wardes seemed ruffled by the sergeant's brusqueness, but he continued.

"Very well, I wish to challenge you to a duel."

All three of the teenagers at the table did a spit-take. Guiche especially seemed agitated.

"Um, noble Count Wardes, I would like to respectfully request that you do not waste the noble Sir Crosby's time…"

"You serious?"

Crosby interrupted the stammering of the blonde. Wardes nodded.

"I believe you to be of noble character and of great skill, but I also do not believe that you have been completely honest with me."

Crosby glared at him. He didn't like where this was going.

"In what way?"

"I believe that you harbor feelings for Lady Vallière, and that I cannot abide by. So it is with the utmost respect that I request you to a duel upon your arrival in Tristain."

To the horror of Louise and Guiche, the sergeant just shrugged.

"Your funeral, mac. Fine, I agree to your terms, most noble Count Wardes, and sincerely hope that our respective honors shall be satisfied by the outcome."

He chucked to himself as he recalled it. Both Louise and Guiche spent the first part of the trip desperately trying to get him on his word that he wouldn't kill Wardes. He demurred. Of course he had no intention of killing Wardes, he intended on humiliating the stupid peacock, after the mission was completed, of course. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't have some fun at the fop and the pinkette's expense.

His musings were interrupted by an older man that ran into him. He was wearing ornate clothes that reminded Crosby of vestments from another time. Before he could react, he noticed a small parcel on the ground at his feet. But when he looked up, the man was gone. He stuffed the parcel in pocket of his utes, and caught back up to Konrad.

"Falling behind sergeant?" Konrad smiled.

"No, sir. Just some old goat that dropped a package at my feet."

"Well, maybe it's a cache of sovereigns, in which case don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"What about our contact for the prince?"

Konrad shook his head.

"I haven't seen him yet. But I imagine they'll be on the lookout and make contact when they're ready."

Little did Konrad know, but he and Crosby were being observed. From a ledge on the clock tower overlooking the town square of Londinium and the grounds of the festival, a lone figure was watching them. He caught sight of Crosby and was startled.

Gordon lowered his binoculars.

"Sgt. Crosby? Here?"

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUN! Okay, so having thrown that curveball, Gordon and the Radioman are not going to meet Crosby and co. just yet. They will cross paths, but not in the next couple of chapters. When they do, it will be epic and worth it. In the meantime I'm off to bed.)_


	20. Situational Awareness, Part Deux

(_AN: So I'm feeling a bit better, and this morning I finished the second part of the chapter, enjoy!)_

"Iceman this is Heavy Four do you copy?"

There was nothing but static.

"Iceman this is Heavy Four IFF Authentication is Romeo Foxtrot Juliet Golf, Four, Zero, Niner, how copy?"

After he recovered from his initial shock Gordon had been trying to reach his former subordinate on his radio. Gordon had been told that his contact that would be Prince Wales' ticket out of Albion was a man attending the festival as a merchant according to his source, who was a man from Pope Vittorio's court. The source had told him he would identify the contact in the crowd by bumping into him and leaving him a package. When Gordon asked what the package contained the man demurred, saying it was a mere trinket to identify the man.

So when the old man made his way across the square towards the guild master's tent, Gordon watched him through his binoculars. And when he gave the signal that's when he saw who it was. It was Sgt. Crosby, his old platoon NCO turned leader of Zulu Squad. His old sergeant was wearing an old leather smithy apron and a peasant shirt, but Gordon recognized the face. The fact that Sgt. Crosby was still wearing his black utes and boots also gave him away.

Back at the artisan pavilion it was a whirlwind of activity as people were pitching tents and setting out their wares. Over at the blacksmith's tent, Saito and Guiche were assembling the armor for display and Louise was unpacking swords and placing them on tables. In the din of voices nobody could hear the static-laced voice coming from the crate with Crosby's equipment and weapons.

_"Repeating, this is Heavy Four calling Iceman, IFF Authentication is Romeo Foxtrot Juliet Golf, Four, Zero, Niner, how copy?"_

But the voice fell on deaf ears, even Lugo, who was closest to the crate couldn't hear it over the noise of the bellows and the beating of steel on anvil.

"Dammit Crosby this is Lt. Gordon, are you there, please respond!"

Normally he would never break radio protocol by name-dropping over an open frequency, but he rationalized it on the grounds that nobody else in this medieval backwater world could eavesdrop on him. There was nothing but static that answered him. He shook his head and stashed his radio. Darden would want to know about this, but for now he had meet with Prince Wales' contact.

* * *

><p>Crosby smiled as he arrived at Konrad's pavilion. The kids had been productive, he had to give credit. Just about everything was unpacked and set up. He heard the clock tower chime the evening hours and decided to have the 'grunts' call it a day.<p>

"Good job kids, let's call it a day and grab some chow."

He looked over to Konrad who spoke.

"You and Lugo go ahead and take the kids, I'll man the tent."

The sergeant nodded. Louise for one was happy to take a break, and spent a good portion of the trip to the tavern telling him how difficult and laborious her day was. He smiled to himself, and didn't bother reminding the pinkette that this was a daily routine for all commoners.

When they arrived at the tavern and sat down, Louise had turned to her familiar.

"Familiar, go fetch us dinner!"

Crosby shook him head.

"With respect, Louise, remember you're our servant girl. Be a good girl and go fetch five tankards of ale and five orders of whatever passes for local food."

He pulled two sovereigns out of the pocket of his smithy apron. She opened her mouth to object, but to her credit didn't break her cover. He smiled. It was nice to boss around a noble, although he wouldn't make a habit of it. The last thing he wanted would be for the mission to go south because the pinkette blew her stack and their cover story.

While she was ordering food and ale, he decided to take a look at the bundle the old man had dropped in the square. It turned out to be some sort of medallion made of silver with an intricate design on it. Guiche said it didn't look familiar to him; although he was quick to point out that runes were not his strong point. Crosby shrugged, and was going to pocket the amulet when the run inscribed on it started to glow.

Suddenly he felt a burning pain on his forearm, as if someone had just poured acid on his tattoo. He grabbed his arm and winced, biting down a curse. Given that he had just lectured Louise on not breaking their cover story, he didn't want to attract attention. Slowly the pain ebbed away.

"Are you alright, Sir Crosby?"

He opened his eyes and saw that everyone else at his table was looking at him. The pinkette had just set down a tray brimming with tankards on their table, and had a concerned look on her face. A quick check around the noisy tavern assured him that no one else noticed. He looked down at his forearm and was shocked. Above his 'Damned 33rd' tattoo was an odd rune.

"That rune! I've seen that rune's pattern before!"

Louise piped up. He looked at her.

"When Colbert came to me, after we captured Fouquet, he was holding an old book and was excited. He was looking up the rune on my familiar's hand, and as he flipped through the book I thought I saw a rune that looked like that one!"

She looked down at the amulet.

"Where did you get that?"

He shrugged.

"Some old guy had dropped it, and when I picked it up to return it, he was nowhere to be found."

He compared the design of the rune on his forearm to the one on the medallion. It was identical. While the logical part of his brain told him this was just a coincidence, his soldier's instincts told him this wasn't chance. When they got back to Tristain Academy of Magic he would want to talk to Colbert about it.

* * *

><p><strong>(Later that evening, at a noble's safehouse in the outskirts of Londinium)<strong>

Under the cover of night two cloaked individuals arrived and the safehouse, giving the proper password. Inside, the noble of the house greeted them.

"Cardinal Halstaff, your Highness, welcome. I bring word of the Jester, from his otherworldly envoy."

Both the cardinal and the prince gulped. They had heard rumors of this Jester, the man who could not be found, the man who would taunt Cromwell and his minions from a voice that seemed to come from the earth itself. But his envoy was terrifying.

The cardinal had heard from one noble who defected away from Cromwell's cause, telling stories of a massive unstoppable juggernaut raiding a heavily fortified enclave of Cromwell's soldiers, and massacring them to a man, leaving only him alive. This Jester must be a powerful mage, thought the cardinal, to summon such an unstoppable golem. His thoughts were interrupted by a door creaking open. First, there was a sound that echoed through the house, as if a dragon was snoring in the next room. A massive shadow framed the doorway and each footfall of the giant reverberated throughout the wooden floorboards. It stopped in front of the cardinal and the prince.

"The Jester sends his greetings."

The giant rumbled in a deep voice, accompanied by the sinister breathing.

"And a message."

With that the giant tapped something on his gauntlet, and then a familiar voice entered the room.

"Friends, Romalians, fellow nobles and commoners, lend me your ears! Actually don't that, that would be disgusting. Greetings from the Jester! And tonight we have a very special guest, how do you do, your highness?"

Prince Wales nodded shyly.

"Very well, sir. I am told that you can get me safely to Tristain, and destroy Cromwell's influence forever."

"Ding ding ding, give the kid a kewpie doll he answered the million dollar question! As it turns out I have it on good faith that a certain somebody in the royal Tristain court still carries a torch for her first and only true love. It looks as though love can conquer all! That letter and ring you sent must have done the trick!"

The boy's eyes lit up.

"Really, the princess, she-"

"Ah, ah, your highness, don't spoil the surprise for the rest of us. To your left is one Mr. Gilbert Sullivan, a guild-master responsible for the festival in Londinium. In the festival there is a Tristanian artisan who will give you passage to his home country and out of danger. And he will do it, won't you, Sully?"

The giant turned to the owner of the safehouse, a ruddy-faced man with a bright red beard, who flushed slightly under the menacing gaze of the golem.

"Y-yes, Lord Jester, I met the artisan this afternoon."

Gilbert looked over to the prince.

"Do not worry, your highness. My contact is an honorable man who will see you safely to Tristain."

"Then go, and Godspeed to you, while we on the homefront will keep calm and fight the good fight against Cromwell! We shall fight them in the streets, we shall fight them in the fields, and we shall never, ever give up!"

The Jester's voice ended, and without another word the giant left the room. With difficulty it made its way up the stairs and into a small boarding room, which it entered, and then shut the door behind him.

Gordon sighed. He must be getting spoiled, because he didn't remember the suit being this hot in Dubai. He pulled out his radio and tuned into the designated frequency.

"Darden, this is Gordon, do you copy?"

"C'mon man, you know better than to break radio protocol."

Gordon sighed again.

"Fine. This is Golem One called Jester Actual, do you copy?"

"Copy that Golem One, this is Jester Actual, go ahead."

"Package has been successfully handed off, Jester Actual."

"Awesomeness! So tell me, man. Was old Sullivan shitting his pants at the sight of you?"

"Yes, he was. And honestly I don't know why we have to go through with all this cloak and dagger secrecy. The Churchill crap was a bit over the top even for you."

"It's pageantry James, these primitive screwheads lap it up! And besides, having a legend helps the reputation and gives validity to our cause, just like in Dubai."

Gordon suddenly remembered something.

"There's something else, Darden."

"What's that?"

"I don't think we're alone."

"Awe come on man, you're gonna go off on a 'the truth is out there UFO' crap are you?"

The lieutenant shook his head.

"Not funny, Darden. No I mean I saw one of my former NCOs down in the square. I think he's our contact."

"Really which one?"

"Crosby."

"Crap, the leader of Zulu Squad? Geez that stogy sourpuss made it here?"

"I'd recognize him anywhere, even in mufti. I'm thinking of making contact at the festival tomorrow."

There was a long pause.

"No, let's not. At least not yet."

"Why not?"

He was starting to get irritated at the journalist turned underground agent provocateur.

"Well, if he is your contact it means he's in deep with the Tristain nobles, and we don't know where their loyalties lie. Besides, that Crosby guy ruined my fantasy football league in Dubai."

"Are you kidding me? You're shutting one my men, a member of the Damned 33rd, out in the cold because you 'think' he might be aligned with the Tristain nobles? And I thought we were trying to create an alliance with Tristain."

"Dude, you are not thinking big picture, man! That is just the first steps. Once we've secured an alliance between Albion and Tristain, then we can send our guys in to infiltrate the Princess's court, and we can spread our revolution from this floating island to the mainland!"

Gordon did not respond for a while. Darden's voice spoke up hopefully.

"Um…Golem One are you still there?"

"Yes, Jester Actual," the lieutenant said sarcastically, "I'm still here, just marveling at how ridiculous you sound when you monologue."

He checked his watch.

"It's almost 23:00 hours here, I'm going to catch some shut eye and take the first airship back to you in the morning. We can discuss the insanity of your master plan in person. Golem One out."

He switched off his radio and wondered if this whole Jester persona thing was going to Robert Darden's head. He mused on this as he finished removing his Heavy Trooper armor. As he pulled off a small speaker concealed in the aviator helmet he remembered questioning Darden about why having the golem persona sound like a Sith Lord was a good idea.

That Darden responded with mock maniacal laughter and shooting imaginary bolts of lightning from his fingertips made him drop the subject. After pulling off the up-armored boots, he stretched onto the modest bed and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep he wondered how the heck Sgt. Crosby made it to Helkeginia, and how he was adjusting.

_(AN: Sooo, the moment you've all be waiting for, more Radioman! Honestly I don't know if I got his persona right, but the idea is that he doing the same thing he did in Dubai, except in this case trying to stir up a peasant revolution against the nobles. I'm stubbing out the next few chapters that involve getting the prince out of Albion, but the next chapter I think will shift over to Bravo Six and how they're adjusting to their new surroundings. Anyways, enjoy!)_


	21. Three Kings

_(AN: So I went to sleep after luncheon and ended up sleeping all day, waking up at midnight. Couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to finish up another chapter. Here we get to find out what Bravo Six has been up to since they arrived in Helkeginia a week ago...Enjoy!)_

Bowles was back in Dubai. He was flying Bravo Six with Tebby on shotgun and Joe the taciturn sniper as his door gunner. They were flying low between the ruined skyscrapers in downtown sand-swept Dubai, hunting for the hijacked Blackhawk chopper piloted by Walker and his team.

There was the chopper, in a controlled hover over the Radioman' tower, its side door minigun blazing away. Bowles shook his head. He had no idea why anyone would be petty enough to kill the Radioman, but this wanton destruction was insane.

"Eyes on Tango! Ten o'clock!" Tebby screamed into his mic.

Bowles toggled the firing stud on his joystick.

"Arming Hellfire rocket pod, weapons hot."

The targeting screen in the cockpit showed the Blackhawk as white on a dark green screen. The reticle pulsated with a persistent beep.

"We have a target lock, Fox Two away!"

The missile streaked over to the Blackhawk, only to have Walker shoot it out of the sky.

Bowles stared at the incongruous sight, and found himself shaking his head, and heard himself talking.

"Wait, wait this isn't right!"

He saw the Blackhawk come about, and saw Walker directing his fire at them. Instinctively he jerked the joystick in the opposite direction to veer the chopper away from the line of fire.

"Too late now, Bowles they're on to us!" Tebby screamed into his mic.

Even as he maneuvered, he could still hear himself babbling.

"Nah…I mean…we did this already!"

"What the fuck do you mean?" This time it was Joe's voice.

He shook his head.

"Ah, fuck it, it's nothing. Let just shake this guy already!"

Weaving in and out of the high-rises, he tried to dodge the incoming fire. When he looked back, he saw it wasn't one Blackhawk but three Blackhawks, each being piloted by one of Delta Team. Joe's panicked voice came in on the headset.

"Can't this thing go any fucking faster?! C'mon El-tee, punch it!"

"I am! Hold on!" Bowles yelled into his mic.

Then sand began filling his windscreen.

"Shit!" Tebby yelled. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yep! Sandstorm! Closing fast!"

"So Get us out of here!"

"Not with those guys on our ass, we can't!"

Bowles then said the unthinkable.

"I'm taking us in."

"Into the storm, are you nuts?!" It was Joe's voice and his verged on hysterics.

"Guess we'll find out." Bowles said with an air of finality.

80 mph winds and sand buffeted the small craft, but sure enough, all three of the Blackhawks broke off pursuit.

"Hold on!" Bowles said as he fought for control of the chopper.

They rounded a corner of a building, barely missing the derelict construction crane, and it was then that Bowles' heart froze. A large red dragon perched between the Acico Office Tower and the ruined Nikko Hotel Dubai. It roared at them, and surged forward, breathing fire.

"Shit! Get us the fuck out of here!"

Bowles didn't even know who said it, but a sudden gust threw the Little Bird off balance. The craft veered hard and crashed into the side of a building, sending a cloud of broken glass and debris into the sandstorm. Bowles was vaguely aware that Tebby and Joe fell to their deaths, and he was alive, barely and pinned upside down in the cockpit. He couldn't get out, he felt fire licking the crashed craft, he felt the fire burning through his clothes and boots. He screamed, and sat up drenched in sweat.

"Are you alright?"

When his eyes focused, it was on a pretty girl with dark brown hair tied up in a kerchief. Her wide aquamarine eyes were filled with concern. Bowles shook his head.

"It's okay, Jessica. It was just a nightmare."

She didn't seem placated by his dismissive response.

"It must have been terrible; Scarron could hear you screaming downstairs."

She placed a cool hand on his forehead.

"Are you feeling ill? I can get you some broth with a tincture if that will help."

"Don't worry, sweetie."

He flashed his best smile, the one that his roommate in ROTC called the 'Radioactive Dental Leg-Spreader.'

"I'm fine, really it's nothing, sweetie."

She blushed at his smile. Works every time.

"Okay, if you're alright you know best."

He sat up and swung his feet to the rough wooden floor.

"Is it shift time yet?"

She nodded once.

"Um-hm, although no rush, your other friends haven't started yet."

"Where's Joe?"

She giggled.

"Where he usually is, moping by the bar with Marlène and Jeanne taking turns flirting with him."

He smiled at the thought. Ever since the taciturn sniper removed his ghillie suit and scarf the two younger bar maids were smitten by him. He pulled on his boots.

"Where's Tebby?"

She nodded towards the window.

"Out by the stables working on your airship."

Bowles grinned to himself. Ever since they ran across the Charming Fairies Inn and chased off some bandits that were trying to rob the place, the owner Scarron had allowed the three man team to park their Little Bird by the stable behind his tavern. He called it an airship too. Of course this Scarron dressed in drag in an outfit that would have shamed Priscilla Queen of the Desert, and wanted the guys to call him _mademoiselle_, so the wacky drag queen calling their Little Bird an airship was not the first shock of the day.

Bowles shook the thoughts from his head as he left the small room that was his quarters and made his way down the stairs to the tavern. The place was still pretty empty, with only a couple of paying customers. Joe was at his usual spot with the two maids cozying up to him. As he crossed the room he waved over to Joe, who just gave a curt nod before going back to his beer. The lieutenant shook his head again. At some point that kid is going to have to let go and enjoy his new life.

Outside he found Tebby inside the Little Bird, going through a checklist.

"What's the good word, corporal?"

Tebby looked up.

"Well, we still have full pods for our rockets, full ammo on the starboard minigun pod and roughly 1,500 rounds on the port minigun pod."

Bowles whistled.

"Damn, I thought we only fired a few warning shots at those bandits."

The corporal grinned.

"With respect, sir, you rocknrolled for almost half a minute with the minigun."

"Point taken, soldier. What about fuel?"

"We're down to a half a tank of fuel, which means we only have about 200 klicks to go before we're dry."

The lieutenant nodded.

"So it means until that wizard dude comes forward with that replenishing spell, we'll going to have to stay put. No point in wasting fuel flying around in circles chasing that IFF signal. Speaking of which, have you broadcasted yet? It's almost shift time."

Tebby shook his head.

"Sir, we've been broadcasting the same message for almost a week, and haven't heard a peep. Hell, last night I couldn't even find the IFF signal, it's like it moved out of range."

"Corporal, if there is even a hint of a chance that there's another person like us stuck in this world I want to know who it is and how we can reach them, and if possible, link up."

The corporal sighed but saluted.

"Roger that, sir."

He set down his clipboard and powered up the main battery, switching on the radio. He pulled his headset on and spoke into the mic.

"To the US military IFF transponder Romeo Foxtrot ID Eight Six Seven Fife dash Tree Zero Niner, this callsign Bravo Six transmitting in the blind, we are a three man chalk US Army 33rd Battalion marooned in a place called Tristain with francophone speaking natives, if you read please switch to channel twelve and respond, we will have ears on until 2300."

He paused for a minute to listen to nothing but static, the repeated the message three more times and switched the radio off. He finished an inventory of their personal weapons and ammo, and then secured them in a locked metal strongbox bolted to the floor of the chopper. He paused for a moment to look over the Little Bird before he left.

Between its battered airframe with its improvised hillbilly armor and faded black and red paintjob, and the 'Damned 33rd' logo on the side, to call it beautiful was a stretch. But he still liked it.

Inside he saw Bowles at the bar sipping a tankard of ale. He caught the eye of one of the barmaids to order his own beer, and sidled up to his commanding officer.

"Sit rep, Tebby?"

"No response from the radio broadcast, no small surprise there. Also did inventory on personal weapons. We've got six rounds for Joe's M-99, three mags for our M9 handguns, two for your UMP-45, and eight shells for the W1300 shotgun."

Bowles nodded.

"Well, it's not enough to start a war, but not shabby."

He looked over to the corporal, who had a quizzical look on his face.

"Relax, Tebby, I'm kidding. Besides, once that mage comes through for us we won't have to worry about fuel or ammo. Then we can get the lay of the land in this new world, and triangulate that IFF signal, and hopefully regroup with whoever else ended up in this weird world."

Tebby grabbed his tankard.

"I'll drink to that!"

"Excuse me gentlemen!"

Bowles turned and saw the tavern's flamboyant proprietor.

"It's time, gentlemen." Scarron said with a wink.

The lieutenant turned back towards the tavern and saw that it had indeed filled up with partrons. He nodded.

"Alright, Scarron. We're on."

He turned to Tebby.

"I think you should do the honors, corporal."

"What do you want to start with, sir."

Bowles grinned. Tebby rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on sir, not that song."

"Yes, corporal, that song. C'mon it's a crowd pleaser."

Tebby rolled his eyes.

"Fine, sir, but you're joining me this time."

He made eye contact with Jessica, who smiled and pulled out a battered pink CD boom box from behind the bar, and handed it to Bowles. He flipped through a sand-encrusted CD wallet and pulled a CD out of it and fed it into the slot.

Suddenly every timber in the tavern reverberated with the sound electro hillybilly music.

_'If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe  
>I'd been married long time ago<br>Where did you come from where did you go  
>Where did you come from Cotton-Eye Joe'<em>

The entire room erupted with applause and raucous cheers as Tebby and Bowles jumped onto a table near the middle of the tavern. The two soldiers started stomping to the beat, clapping their hands as their boots caused tankards and plates to fly off the table. Patrons and barmaids started contra dancing to the beat. As Bowles switched places on the table with Tebby, he noticed the chestnut-haired barmaid named Jeanne pulling Joe onto the improvised dance floor. He grinned. Maybe that kid will have some fun tonight.

Scarron watched with one of his friends.

"Your new entertainment is quite lively, where did you get them?"

Scarron glanced over at the one called Bowles, who was doing some sort of Germanian kick dance on the table.

"I'm not sure where they are from, my friend. They're not from Tristain, or Albion, or Germania. I know they are soldiers or mercenaries, but they are different from soldiers or chevaliers that I know. I hired them because they rescued my tavern from highwaymen. And as it turns out, they're quite the draw in entertainment!"

Tebby had to admit it. The Appalachian-born corporal might claim to hate the music, but he was enjoying himself. He saw Joe dancing with one of the barmaids with something that looked like a smile on his face, and looked over to see his CO doing an improvised Cossack dance on the other end of the table, kicking a pitcher of wine onto the floor in the process. He admited it to himself, he was having fun. He could get used to this gig.

_(AN: I would like to thank a fellow author Cain O'Phelan for lending permission to do a shout out from one of his stories. And if you're a MASS Effect/Halo fan, check it out; it's called _The Devil's Own_. And if you're not a fan of ME or HALO, read it anyways, it's that good._

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks for all those who PM'ed and fav/followed/commented the last chapter. Next chapter we're shifting back to Albion, I will say that the clock is ticking down from the time when Bravo Six will be reunited with Crosby and co, so stay tuned! And if there's something you like or don't like, as always LMK)_


	22. Army of One

_(AN: So here is where things start to pick up steam. Will Konrad and co.'s mission to spirit the prince out of Albion succeed? _

_Will the dastardly Cromwell and his cronies catch wind of it? _

_Will Prince Wales and Henrietta use the power of love to shatter the influences of the powers of the Evulz? _

_Will the idiot parked in front of the laptop in the business center at the snowbound airport hotel please stop monologuing? _

_GET ON WITH IT!_

_*ahem*_

_Thanks again for your support and input. Taking a couple of days off really helped recharge the batteries. Hope you enjoy the chapter!)_

Crosby woke up at 0600 and yawned. Old habits die hard, and no matter what the surrounds he could always wake up without the help of an alarm. He stretched, lit a candle on the bedside table and took in his surroundings.

After supper Konrad had let a couple of rooms above the tavern. The former CO of the Damned 33rd opted to spend the night at his tent, to keep watch over the goods. Crosby and Lugo were sharing a small two-bed room, Saito, Guiche and Louise occupied the other. He pulled his boots on and walked over to a small table and splashed water on his face from the basin. After drying off he put on a patched shirt and a gillet that Konrad lent him. He reached under the pillow and pulled his M9 backup pistol out and slipped it into an inside pocket of the gillet. He looked over to Lugo, who was still sound asleep in spite of the ambient light. He shook the sleeping figure's shoulder.

"Come on, sergeant, up and at `em, it's time to wake up."

There was a muffled mumbling from Lugo, but no other stirring. He smiled. The Delta Force sniper had been through enough to earn him a couple of minutes extra shut-eye. Leaving the room the Zulu Squad sergeant opened the door across the hall and put his lighted candle in the room. Saito and Guiche were sleeping in stacked bunk bed; Saito on top snoring and drooling in his sleep, Guiche below still sound asleep clutching a teddy bear.

The third person was the pink-haired teen-aged witch that brought him from Dubai to this odd world. Louise was curled up in her own bed, softly breathing and looking for all the world like a cute little kitten sleeping. For a moment Crosby forgot about the pinkette with the loud mouth and the hair-trigger temper.

The moment passed, and he spoke up.

"Okay, kids, wake up! Today's the big day and I want everyone dressed and downstairs eating breakfast in five minutes."

Not one of them stirred. Crosby sighed, then had a distant memory of boot camp. He smiled evilly and made his way down the stairs and into the tavern's kitchen. The cook was hard at work preparing breakfast, but Crosby wasn't interested in breakfast.

"Pardon me, good cook, may I borrow a couple of your implements?"

The early morning quiet in the teenager's room was shattered by the cacophony of loud clanging. All of them jumped out of the beds at the shock of the sound, and when they rubbed their eyes clear of sleep they saw Crosby standing over them holding a kettle in one hand and a large soup ladle in the other.

"On your feet, kids! I want everyone dressed and knees to the breeze in five minutes. When I come back if I find any stragglers in bed they're getting a bucket of cold water."

He left the room of grumbling teens and crossed over to his room. Not surprisingly, he found Lugo wide awake.

"Jeez, sarge, really, the boot camp alarm clock? You probably woke up half of Londinium with that racket."

Crosby grinned.

"It got your lazy ass up. C'mon get dressed and help me herd the kids downstairs."

* * *

><p>At the breakfast table he drank a large bowl-like cup of something that passed for coffee and thought over the mission as discussed with Konrad and Lugo. According to Konrad, at some point during the day the guild-master, one Gilbert Sullivan, would escort the prince Wales to their booth disguised as an apprentice. Sullivan would 'persuade' Konrad to take him as an apprentice, and Konrad would accept. The prince would keep a low profile until the end of the day, when he would be concealed in the wagon and spirited back with them to Tristain on the overnight airship ferry. A simple enough plan. He interrupted his thoughts to look down the table, and nocked an eyebrow. One person was missing.<p>

"Where's Louise?"

Guiche flushed and said nothing, but it was Saito that spoke up.

"I think she said she was going to use the bathroom, Crosby-san."

The sergeant nodded and looked over to Lugo.

"Take our apprentices to the tent and help Konrad with final set up. I'll be along shortly with Louise."

"Roger that."

Crosby stood up and watched the others leave, then headed down to the hallway where the kitchen and the privy was located. Sure enough there was Louise. Unfortunately she wasn't alone. She was being cornered by a large, heavyset man wearing leather and mail armor; he looked like some of the Albion mercenaries that had been at the tavern the night before. As the sergeant approached it was apparent the man was drunk, no mean feat considering the early hour.

"Come on pretty girl, just give us a kiss."

She tried to duck under his arm that was blocking her path, to no avail.

"Please, sir, let me go."

The drunken mercenary continued.

"…You're very pretty, it's been so long since I've seen a girl, even one that doesn't have breasts."

Crosby facepalmed. This wasn't going to go well. And it didn't.

Louise seethed and kicked her foot up into the man's groin. The man groaned and doubled over; she quickly ran over to Crosby, and he protectively pushed her behind him.

"Bitch!"

The injured mercenary had recovered and pushed Crosby back into the tavern. The sergeant noticed that some of the patrons in the tavern were obviously compatriots of the drunk, and they had taken notice. This could get ugly. He held out a forestalling hand towards the advancing mercenary.

"This little one isn't worth the trouble, good sir. Now, let me get you something."

He gave Crosby a shove.

"Out of my way, you bastard, I'm going to cut that little bitch's leg off!"

Before the large drunken mercenary could draw his blade, Crosby had already sprang into action. He lashed out with his boot right above the large man's kneecap, and with a sickening crunch his heel hit home and the leg bent the wrong way. The man screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Crosby finished him off with a kick to the face. The others had hesitated for a moment, but he knew the damage was done.

At some point when the shock wore off they would realize they still outnumbered him. He had his gun, and it would make short work of the six compatriots of the injured merc. But a repeating handheld musket would draw too much attention, attention he was explicitly trying to avoid. He didn't know how to resolve this without bloodshed, his or the others. A voice interrupted.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The voice was a commanding one, and by the way the other mercenaries quickly fell in line, probably their employer. He was a man older than Crosby, but not by much, wearing finer clothes but not as gaudy as some of his Tristainian counterparts.

One of the men spoke.

"That bastard broke Hector's leg!"

The noble responded by backhanding the man, and he fell to the ground.

"Insufferable fool, what disgusting language you use among your own kind you will not use in the presence of your betters."

Another one quietly came forward and spoke.

"Milord, Hector had been…talking to the girl over there, and this gentleman intervened."

The noble looked down at Hector on the ground and tsked.

"Getting his leg broken in a brawl, that is sloppy. I am docking his pay for that."

He looked over to Crosby, and Louise who was cowering behind him. The sergeant spoke.

"My humble apologies to you my lord for incapacitating one of your men, but he was accosting the young girl, and that is something I could not abide."

The noble raised an eyebrow.

"You sir, have good manners for a commoner. I am Sir Percival of Hockspur. What is your name?"

Crosby bowed.

"I am Robert Crosby, of La Roche, at your service."

Sir Percival gave a nod.

"And I yours. Tell me, Mr. Crosby, were you a chevalier in the service of the Griffon Knights once upon a time?"

The sergeant almost stiffened at the thought that their cover might have been blown. Then he saw the noble smile.

"Your manners and bearings strike me as something more than what your appearance tells. Your stature speaks of one who is no stranger to combat. And yet you are not one of those uncouth loudmouthed braggarts that infest the commoner ranks of a regular army. Since it is unthinkable that a noble would stoop to become a commoner or a mercenary, then he must have been disgraced. And for him to be here and so far from home, his fall must have been great, which would only happen to someone who at one time held high rank. Hence my question about you being in the Griffon Guards."

Crosby smiled inwardly. This Albion noble was so close to the truth and yet so far out in left field it was laughable. He decided to play along.

"If the good noble would promise discretion, I will confess. It is as you say. I was a captain in the noble Griffon Guards, and my disgrace was great indeed."

He gestured to a table, which the noble sat at, and Crosby opposite him, with Louise sitting by the old sergeant.

Percival leaned in closer, clearly intrigued.

"What happened, Mr. Crosby? Fear not, I give you my word that nothing said at this table will be revealed."

Crosby lowered his head, and sighed.

"It involved my wife, good sir."

Comprehension dawned on the noble's face.

"Ahhh, yes. Those Tristainian women can be quite hot-blooded and promiscuous. So who was it, a fellow chevalier?"

Crosby spoke in a low voice laced with shame.

"He was a member of the princess's court, one of her closest advisors and mentors, my lord. His betrayal of trust to one so close caused so much pain and suffering."

The noble nodded.

"So you challenged him to a duel, and judging by what I've seen of you, you probably killed him. And so you had to face either death or disgrace."

Crosby nodded.

"I left in disgrace, and left behind my wife and my estate. I started a new life in La Roche under a different name."

The noble shook his head.

"That is a most difficult position to be in, Mr. Crosby, you have my sympathies."

He leaned forward and put a hand on Crosby's shoulder. He looked over to Louise and suddenly raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, that all of a sudden makes sense. Now I do not blame you for your anger at my man. Had I known I would have been more severe in the punishment."

He bowed deeply to the sergeant.

"Will you accept my humble apologies for having one in my employ being so uncouth towards your flesh and blood, Mr. Crosby? I will permit you to demand repayment, if you desire. You may even kill him, if you like."

Crosby was shocked at the humility of the noble, but shook his head.

"It was a mistake, and I forgive you. If more nobles were like you then the world would be a better place."

Percival nodded and changed topics.

"So what brings you to Londinium? The festival?"

"Indeed, my lord. I am a smithy by trade and am here with Mr. Konrad, of Tristania. Perhaps you have heard of his mentor, Mr. Couteau?"

"Indeed I have heard of Couteau the great artisan of steel. I have several blades that were fashioned by him, they have never failed me. I trust the understudy to be as talented as his master?"

Crosby smiled and bowed.

"Of course myself and Konrad could not hope to surpass the excellence that was Couteau's craftsmanship. However you are welcome to stop by our tent and examine for yourself."

Sir Percival nodded.

"Perhaps I will, in any case I must go there and purchase the most expensive blade from Konrad in reparation for my subordinate's uncouth manners. It is the least I can do."

He stood up.

"Thank you, Mr. Crosby, for accepting my apology and for the fine discourse. I must beg leave and be off. I hope the day will be profitable for you. Good day!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant waited for the noble to leave the tavern before turning to Louise.

"Are you alright?"

She looked dazed and appreciative, but then surprised him by recovering and glaring.

"No I am not! That barbaric mercenary was being uncouth and insulted me! And why did you intervene? I had everything under control."

He frowned.

"Right," he said sarcastically. "And what would you have done when he was going to chop you into little pieces with his blade?"

She huffed.

"I would have blown him to bits with my magic-"

He interrupted her with a snarl.

"-And blown our cover sky high along with him! I told you to control yourself, there is more at stake here than you stupid pride."

She tried to return his glare, but caved. Eighteen seconds, a new record for her, he thought.

Then she ruined the moment by scrunching up her face and crying. He rolled his eyes. Where was Saito when he needed him? He crouched down to her level and patted her on the back, letting her cry into his shoulder.

"Alright, it's okay, it's okay. No harm done."

She calmed down a bit, sniffed and blinked some of the tears out of her eyes. The sergeant grabbed a clean napkin off a table and offered it to her, and she blew her nose. He looked at her. Yep, he was definitely a sucker for the eye shimmer; clearly it was the most potent weapon the local female populace's arsenal.

"Just promise me that you'll be more careful, okay?"

She nodded once. As they made their way outside she spoke up.

"Why did Sir Percival apologize so profusely if he thought you were a commoner?"

Crosby smiled.

"He thought you were my daughter."

"What?!" That's ridiculous."

"I know, if you were my daughter you'd be a lot better behaved in public."

She huffed at that comment, but said nothing. When they arrived at the tent, there were already a few early customers trickling in. Konrad looked up from his work and smiled.

"It's nice that you could join us, Crosby. Did you get lost?"

Crosby gestured to the pinkette.

"Just being a good bodyguard, sir."

His former CO frowned.

"Anything I should worry about?"

"No, sir. Everything was resolved without bloodshed."

As the day progressed the blacksmith's tent was a hive of bustling activity. True to their cover Guiche and Saito acted as barkers trying to draw customers in, while Crosby and Konrad proudly displayed their wares, Lugo sharpened blades and repaired battered armor on the spot. Louise also held up her cover by acting as a servant girl running fresh water and food to Konrad and his workers.

Then, shortly after the lunch hour, a portly man with a bright red beard arrived. Konrad recognized him as Gilbert the guild-master. He also saw that Gilbert and a young man in tow whose face was concealed by a deep hood. He greeted the guild-master.

"Greetings to a Fellow of the Craft, Mr. Sullivan, how does the day treat you?"

"And fine greetings to a Fellow Craftsman, Mr. Konrad, my day is well. I hope the day has been profitable to you, thus far?"

Konrad nodded.

"It has, if the afternoon is as profitable as the morning my purse will be full indeed. What can I do for you, Mr. Sullivan?"  
>"A favor for a favor, Mr. Konrad, may we speak inside?"<p>

Crosby watched as Konrad and the guild-master go through the motions of negotiating an apprenticeship for his 'worker.' When the negotiations were concluded Mr. Sullivan turned to the boy and admonished him to work diligently and absorb as much knowledge as he could from the kind blacksmith Mr. Konrad.

"Young man, this is Mr. Crosby, you will be learning the most from him and Mr. Lugo. Listen to them and obey their instructions, understand?"

"Yes, sir." The boy meekly said.

Konrad turned and left. Crosby got a chance to have a good look at the incognito prince. His first impression was that he was shocked at how young the prince was; he looked to be about the same age as the other teenagers, and seemed a bit prissy. Still, if he still carried a torch for the princess and if their union could stop a war, he didn't care what the pretty boy looked like.

"Do you know what is expected of you, young man?"

The prince said nothing but nodded once.

"Good, then put on a smithy smock and help Mr. Lugo with the bellows."

He lowered his voice.

"And try to keep as low a profile as possible, your highness."

The boy understood and went over to where Lugo was working. He overheard a voice.

"You must be Konrad."

Crosby turned around to see the new customer who entered the tent, and immediately recognized him. Konrad had tensed up, but the sergeant quickly diffused the situation by addressing the noble with a flourishing bow.

"Sir Percival, it is good to see you again."

The noble bowed again.

"Likewise, Mr. Crosby."

He turned to Konrad.

"Mr. Konrad, I am Sir Percival, of Hockspur. You do not know me, but I knew your mentor Mr. Couteau, who was an expert with fashioning steel, be it blade or armor."

He glanced about the tent and picked up a rapier, testing the blade.

"And if this is any indication the understudy is every bit as talented as the master."

He placed the blade back onto the table and turned back to Konrad.

"Tell me, Mr. Konrad, what is the most expensive blade you have to offer?"

Konrad smiled and went over to a locked chest in the back of the tent. He opened it and pulled out a highly ornate sword, with a golden blade and a hilt encrusted with jewels.

"A foppish Romalian noble commissioned this sword for me, but managed to get himself killed in a duel before he could pick it up."

He handed it to Sir Percival, who went over the blade with a keen eye.

"The blade has been fashion from gold, which, as I tried to point out to the now-deceased noble, would make the blade brittle in combat. However he would not be dissuaded."

The noble nodded.

"A fool who made many bad decisions, and ultimately paid for his vanity by the sound of it. Still it is a finely wrought piece and a work of art. I will take it, how much?"

"The noble had offered me 3,000 écus for the commission of the blade, which would be about 1,200 sovereigns. I could offer it to you for 1,000, since you were of service to my man."

Sir Percival shook his head.

"Perish the thought, I will pay full price for it, I promised Mr. Crosby I would buy your most expensive piece and I am a noble of my word."

He motioned to one of his bodyguards, who left the tent and re-emerged a few minutes later with a large locked strongbox and set it at his feet. The noble withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing several large bags of coins. He pulled two large bags and one small bag out of the chest and handed them to Konrad.

"Here, two bags of 500 sovereigns each, and a smaller one with 200 sovereigns."

Konrad bowed deeply to the noble.

"You are as generous as you are gracious, Sir Percival, thank you."

The noble gave a small nod. The bodyguards shut the strongbox and left the tent. Sir Percival took the sword and turned back to Konrad with a bow.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I must be off. May the rest of your day be profitable."

Crosby had watched the entire exchange in awe. He was jarred from his reverie by a sudden gasp at his side. He looked down and saw the prince with a look of horror on his face.

"What's the matter, kid?"

The boy pointed to the retreating figure of the noble.

"That noble," the prince said nervously, "I recognize him. He is Sir Percival."

"So?"

"His household is closely aligned with Oliver Cromwell, and he himself is a high-ranking member of the Reconquista!"

That came as a shock to Crosby. He always assumed that if they were the badguys of this game of intrigue that they would act as badguys.

He shrugged to the prince.

"He seemed like an honorable man to me. A damn shame, really."

The prince nodded.

"There are some within Mr. Cromwell's group who are as wicked and ambitious as he, but there are some who are blinded by their loyalty to their friends and genuinely think that turning Albion into a republic is a good idea."

He sighed.

"I know that the intrigues of our world must seem alien to an outsider."

The sergeant shook his head.

"Actually your highness, I can relate."

* * *

><p>They finished the rest of the day without incident, packing up the tent and remaining wares into the wagon, concealing the prince inside, and made their way back to the airship port. All three of the soldiers were very tense throughout the overnight journey back to Tristain. At Konrad's suggestion they each took a four hours shift standing watch over the prince in in his cabin. Crosby's shift was the last one, and it set his nerves on edge. In his long career as a soldier, it was usually at the end of a 'pickup and protect' mission that things went pear-shaped. The prince did help pass the time by talking to Crosby and Konrad.<p>

"So why is it so important for you to meet face to face with the princess? If the two of you are an item, couldn't one of your write a declaration and the other formally confirm it?"

The prince shook his head.

"Even if such a declaration could slip past the net of influence of Cromwell and his Reconquista, he could declare the document a forgery on the part of Tristain."

Konrad nodded.

"So, if you and the princess were to make a public announcement together…"

"…then all nobles in Albion, both the Reconquista and the royalists, would have to accept it."

The prince continued.

"If I were to announce that the princess and I were to be married, then we would become allies and war can be averted."

"Wouldn't these Reconquista types try to intervene with your marriage after the announcement?"

Crosby asked. The prince shook his head.

"Even as these Reconquista nobles try to undermine me at every turn, they are still my subjects and they recognize that. They wouldn't have dared assassinate me on Albion soil for fear of the repercussions. Even the most die-hard supporter of Cromwell would turn against him if word got out that my death was by his hand or one of his minions. As long as I am alive they dare not make a move."

* * *

><p>It was still dark in the early morning when the airship docked, and it was only after they disembarked Konrad's covered wagon off the airship and onto Tristain soil did Crosby breathe a sigh of relief. He was back in his Zulu Squad armor, and still checking the crowd for possible assassins, but he was still relieved.<p>

"Mr. Konrad?"

A young messenger boy approached the wagon. Konrad nodded.

"Yes, son, what is it?"

The boy held out a sealed letter.

"I was instructed to give this to you, sir."

Konrad accepted the message and read it.

"Hmm, it's from Count Wardes, he is escorting her Highness to a small chapel on the outskirts of town, apparently to keep a low profile. We are to meet him there."

As the message promised, there on the outskirts of La Roche, was a small chapel or temple dedicated to whatever deity the locals worshiped. It was still early morning, and the light had not yet come up on the horizon. The place looked deserted. Something seemed off. A twig snapped and Crosby brought his P90 to bear on the interloper.

"Darling!"

He lowered his weapon as the familiar figure of Princess Henrietta emerged from the darkness. She rushed past Crosby and took the prince in a tight embrace.

"Oh darling I thought I would never see you again, are you well?"

He took her hands in his.

"Yes, yes my love I am well, thanks to your friends here."

As the two young love birds continued to coo and cuddle one another, the Zulu Squad sergeant felt embarrassed, as if he should be somewhere else. Suddenly a thought hit him.

"Where's Count Wardes?"

The count was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was ambushed. Quickly his mind went into combat mode and he spoke into his radio.

"Lugo, get Konrad and the kids squared away in the building and get back to my position. Something doesn't feel right."

The Delta Force Sniper's voice crackled in his earbud.

_"Roger that, on my way."_

He started scanning the shadows, and disengaged the prince from the princess.

"With respect, your highnesses, you two need to get into the chapel. It isn't safe here."

The princess obeyed Crosby's command, but the prince stood rooted to the spot like a deer in the headlights. She looked back to her lover.

"Come on darling, we must get inside."

Before the prince could reply a blade punched its way through his chest. The prince looked down in shock, and the princess screamed in horror. Before Crosby could bring his weapon to bear he was blasted off his feet. When he had recovered, he saw the prince fall to the ground in a pool of his own blood, dead. Crosby righted himself and glared up at the prince's assassin.

"Count Wardes, you traitorous son of a bitch!"

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUN! Yeah, so I went ahead and split this chapter up and ended it on another cliffhanger. Don't worry, Wardes will get what's coming to him. I'm already working on the next chapter and should have that done by the end of the week. In the meantime let me know what you think. On another note, I really hate snow.)_


	23. Friendly Fire

_(AN: Don't you just hate it when an author leaves a story on a cliffhanger and then leaves his readers hanging for weeks? Well, I do too, so I churned this out real quick. Hopefully it doesn't have too many errors.)_

"Count Wardes you traitorous son of a bitch!"

Crosby snarled and leveled his weapon, but the count had grabbed the princess by the elbow and held a blade to her throat.

"Not so fast, Sir Crosby. I am taking my leave, and taking the princess with me. Once she is in the hands of the Reconquista, then the court of Tristain will have no choice but to submit to Albion. Or they won't, and Albion will declare war on Tristian for murdering their prince."

"NO!"

Crosby turned and saw Louise being held back by Lugo. Saito was brandishing Derflinger, and Guiche his rose wand. The Zulu Squad sergeant turned back to face Wardes.

"You're not leaving here alive, count. Surrender now, and maybe the princess will spare your life."

The count laughed.

"Oh, I think not, Sir Crosby. If any so much as moves, then the princess dies. I am leaving."

He looked over the Louise.

"Come along, my dove. We have a future to make in the new Republic of Albion!"

Something clicked in Crosby's mind.

"Count Wardes, are you forgetting our duel?"

The count appeared conflicted.

"Regrettably, I must decline our duel. Another time, should you find yourself in Albion."

He pressed the blade into the princess's neck, almost piercing the skin.

"Come along, Louise, if you delay my hand might tremble and injure the princess."

Crosby then turned to Louise.

"Louise, my love! Since the villainous count has revealed his true colors, I no longer feel bound to our vow of silence. Will you leave me in silence as well?"

His back was turned to Wardes, and as he spoke he winked at the pinkette. She gave a subtle nod, and turned to Wardes.

"Count Jean-Jaques Francis, you are a villain and the basest of cowards, and I can now say I never truly loved you."

She gestured to Crosby.

"From the moment this man set foot in our world and the moment I set eyes on him, he stole my heart. I knew when I summoned him that it was destiny that sent him to my world. We were destined to be together."

She clasped her tiny hands in the Crosby's much larger hand.

"Though he may not have started life as a noble, he has more right to the title of nobility than any man I know, and he is worth ten of you."

She gazed at the sergeant, her eyes shimmering.

"Sir Robert Crosby, I will not leave silent. Even if this foul villain takes me away by force, know that I will always love you. Every time I have to dutifully tell this wicked man that I love him, every time this horrible monster takes advantage of me, know that I will always in my heart be loving you."

Wow, thought Crosby, she can really sell it. He looked over to Wardes, and apparently he was buying it, too. The count's face was calm, but his eyes were seething. Wardes threw the princess aside roughly.

"I will not stand for this! Sir Crosby you are a coward and a liar, and a thief to steal the affections of my fiancée!"

He leveled his sword at Crosby.

"Will you answer my challenge to a duel, Sir Crosby, or will you be a coward?"

Crosby nodded.

"You're on."

The count made a sweeping motion.

"I will duel you, Sir Crosby, and I do so for the affection of my dove, Louise. In this manner she will realize that she does in fact love me, for I will-"

The sergeant interrupted the count.

"Are you going to be monologuing for a while, Count?"

The count looked taken aback.

"Well, actually I was hoping to speak a while longer, if you don't mind."

The sergeant shook his head.

"Please by all means, continue, just one thing."

"Certainly, Sir Crosby."

"Has the duel technically started, or does only start after you've finished talking?"

The count waved his hand dismissively.

"Oh, the duel has started, but I wanted to say a few things to my fiancée first."

"Good."

Before Wardes could utter another word the Zulu Squad sergeant raised his P90 and fired off a shot. There was a loud crack as the gunshot echoed through the early dawn hours. The count fell to his knees, and looked down at the growing red stain on his immaculate silk waistcoat in shock. When he looked back up at the soldier standing over him, and a beam of red light issuing from the tip of the weapon.

"B-but…"

The soldier spoke in a low, harsh voice.

"Remember when I told you I was a noble knight?"

The count nodded dumbly.

"I lied."

He fired again, and a 5.7x28mm round entered the count's left eye socket and tore out the back of his head. The count fell back, dead. He looked over and saw Henrietta cradling the dead body of the prince, crying. Louise was trying to console the princess.

"What treachery is this?"

Crosby spun around, and saw three men, dressed like the count, mounted on griffons. The leader leveled his sword at Crosby.

"There has been blood spilled this morning! We find the Prince of Albion and our leader dead, and you with a weapon drawn, what have you to say?"

"Your leader was a traitorous bastard, he murdered the prince and was going to take the princess as a hostage back to Albion. I killed him before he could do that. You're welcome."

The man looked furious, and leapt from his mount.

"You will not sully the good name of our leader Wardes, while his body is not yet cold. Guard your tongue, sir, or I will cut it from your mouth!"

Crosby glared at him, and leveled his P90 at the knight. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lugo doing the same.

"If you liked your leader so much, you can join him in hell!"

"Stop!"

Both men turned and saw the princess standing there.

"Sir Thibault, stand down!"

The knight sheathed his blade and genuflected on one knee.

"As you command, my queen."

He looked up.

"We were summoned here by a message from the count, it said that our leader's life was in danger."

She shook her head, and gestured to Crosby.

"Sir Robert Crosby speaks the truth. Though it pains me to say it, Count Wardes was a traitor, and in league with the Reconquista, and by his hand Prince Wales was slain."

The knight was about to speak when a loud roar like a hurricane blew him off his feet. Crosby heard the princess scream, and saw an immense black shadow eclipse the rising sun. One of the other knights yelled out.

"Dragon! It's a dragon! Quickly, we must protect her Highness!"

Crosby and the other knight grabbed the princess and pulled her towards the shelter of the temple. Lugo was holding position by a tree, firing up in the air.

"Get inside, sergeant! We need to get inside!"

It was only after he pushed the princess to safety inside that Crosby looked up. A cold knife of fear stabbed the pit of his stomach. It was a dragon, and much larger than Tabitha's familiar. While Sylphid had the appearance of a large blue lizard with cat-like mannerisms, this one was all fiery red scales and hornlike protrusions. Talons the size of scythes clawed the earth as it landed, and it let out a deep, guttural snarl.

**"Hin Dinok Konrad Sahlo, Ashskt Nahkriin, Kopraan Ag Korporan*!"**

The two remaining knights foolishly charged the dragon on their mounts, only to be burned by the dragon's breath.

Crosby slammed the door shut. The temple was just large enough to hold them, but it wouldn't hold up to a dragon's attack. It was still better than being out in the open. Lugo's voice piped up.

"Um, sarge, did I hear things or did that dragon just say 'Konrad'?"

Impossible, Crosby thought. He shook his head.

"It's your imagination, sergeant. That thing just wants to kill us."

He did a head count, and came up short. Two short.

"Shit, where's Louise and Saito?"

He smashed one of the stained glass windows and looked outside. Sure enough, there was Louise cowering behind a tree, with Saito trying to protect her. It looked as though the dragon hadn't noticed them, it was focusing all its attention on the ones inside. The structure shook again as another blast hit the temple. He looked over to Konrad.

"Sir, where is the grenade launcher?"

His CO shook his head.

"Still in the wagon, Crosby, which is probably blasted halfway to Albion now."

He looked down at his P90.

"Our weapons won't pierce that thing's hide. And this place won't be safe for long."

He looked over and saw a small door on the other end of the temple.

"I'm going out the front door, I'll see if I can distract it. The rest of you make a break for it out that back door. Try to make it to town, and get help. Above all, get the princess out of harm's way, I'm not allowing two royal deaths on my watch today."

"Crosby, I can't let you do that."

"Sir, with respect, I'm the most able-bodied here. I'm doing this."

Their argument was interrupted by Crosby's radio crackling to life.

_"…to the US military IFF transponder Romeo Foxtrot ID Eight Six Seven Fife dash Tree Zero Niner, this is Bravo Six transmitting in the blind, if you copy please respond…"_

Another shock.

"Lt. Bowles?"

*(Die by my fire, Konrad the weak, and know my name Nahkriin-vengeance!)

_(AN: So Wardes got his comeuppance, he probably should have looked up hubris in the dictionary before setting out on his mission of treachery. And jealously, and pride, greed, lust, etc etc._

_GET ON WITH IT!_

_And in other news a very special appearance by Special Agent Daniels __**and**__ Bravo Six! As the one Shakespearean actor said to the other in the 'Scottish Play'; "Shit just got real!" _

_Anyone who is a fan of Skyrim, do you know if there is an online translator of Dragonish to English? All they had is a small dictionary of words on the Skyrim wiki, so grammar and sentence structure is lacking, for all I know Nahkriin could be saying '_Where am bathroom my bunnies have to make orange._' It's not a huge deal, but since dragons will be making more appearances it would be nice to have them speak proper Dragonish._

_The next chapter should be up by the weekend. Hope you enjoyed!)_


	24. They Live

_(AN: Well, I'm finally back in the office, after spending two days snowbound. And I had a four hour delay at the airport so I was able to make more progress on the story. This chapter was going to be a lot longer, but I figured I would split it up, rather than leave you in suspense. Enjoy!)_

He couldn't believe it. He recognized the voice. It was Lt. Bowles, callsign _Bravo Six_, one of the pilots in his Little Bird squadron back in Dubai. Quickly he recovered and spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Six this is Bravo Two Actual, I authenticate IFF ID Romeo Foxtrot, Romeo Charlie Four, Zero, Fife, Two. How copy?"

There was an audible sigh of relief heard through the static.

_"Oh, thank Christ, it's good to hear a friendly voice, Crosby."_

"Likewise Lieutenant."

He ducked as another blast hit the chapel, causing plaster to fall down onto his helmet.

"Bravo Six, while I would love to chat I have a bit of a problem, if you're of an inclination to help."

_"Would that be the giant red dragon parked outside your IFF poz, sir?"_

"That would be an affirmative. If it's not too much trouble, could you take that big bastard out? Also, be advised there are friendlies on the deck, not too far from my position."

_"Roger that, Bravo Two Actual, what's their position?"_

"Two civilians by a large tree, one is a male, teenager, in a blue windbreaker; the other is a female, teenager, with pink hair."

There was a slight pause.

_"Ah, Bravo Two Actual could you say again your last, with the interference it sounded like you said 'pink hair'."_

"Affirmative, Bravo Six, I said 'pink hair.' C'mon you guys have been here and you're engaging a giant red dragon, someone with technicolor hair can't be the weirdest thing you've seen or heard."

There was a chuckle on the other end.

_"Roger that, confirmed we have a visual on the friendlies, will check fire. Keep your heads down, we're engaging Tango."_

Bowles looked over to Tebby.

"Arm the Hellfire pods."

"Hellfire pods armed, acquiring target lock."

He looked at the massive red dragon currently trying to destroy a chapel or temple that was Crosby's triangulated position. In the targeting screen the entire dragon was glowing white.

"That big guy must be made of heat, makes our job easier." Tebby said.

Bowles toggled the firing stud on his joystick.

"Weapons hot, targeting…we have a target lock!"

He pulled the trigger.

"Target locked, Fox Two, Fox Two, away!"

Two missiles streaked over towards the dragon, and impacted on its back. The dragon roared in pain and reared up, snapping the craft. The Little Bird bank sharply to the left, and streak of tracer fire peppered the dragon's shoulder and stomach. It flinched under the hail of bullets, and as quickly as it appeared it took off.

"Ah, Bravo Two Actual, this is Bravo Six, Tango is disengaging and turning tail, shall we pursue?"

_"Negative, as long as that bastard is not coming back, do not pursue. Touch down near my position, and bring your med kit, we may have wounded."_

"Roger that, and for the record, if you had said affirmative I would have said 'tough luck.' That big guy took two sidewinders to the back and that just pissed it off."

Crosby switched off his radio and turned to look over the others. Konrad was still trying to calm down the princess, Lugo and Guiche were looking to him expectantly.

"Lugo, go and check on Saito and Louise, make sure they're okay. Guiche, go check and see if Sir Thibault survived and if he need medical attention."

They both nodded and Crosby followed them out. The chopper had landed close to the temple, and it's engines were already winding down as the blades slowed. One of the inhabitants had already jumped out, and was making a beeline for Crosby.

"Sgt. Crosby! It's so good to see you!"

Bowles enveloped the sergeant in a bro-hug, which the sergeant returned.

"Good to see you here as well, sir. Speaking of which."

He disengaged from the hug and dope-slapped the lieutenant.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For disobeying orders, sir. Since you're here it's clear you didn't heed my warnings about the sandstorm."

Bowles grinned.

"With all due respect, sergeant, if I did obey your orders we wouldn't be here to save your bacon."

Crosby smiled.

"Point taken, sir."

Bowles looked over and saw his co-pilot and gunner approach.

"Crosby, you remember my co-pilot, Tebby?"

The sergeant nodded and shook his hand.

"Good to see you again, corporal."

"Likewise, sarge."

The lieutenant gestured to the sniper.

"This is Joe."

He saw the look that Crosby was giving him.

"It's a long story, sergeant."

"Okay, nice to meet you, Joe the sniper."

The sniper nodded and looked as if he was going to speak, but then he suddenly tensed up and leveled his weapon. Crosby didn't need to know who he was aiming at. An argument ensued.

"Joe! Lower your weapon!"

"Fuck you, that bastard killed my friends!"

"You would have killed us, too, shithead!"

"Lugo! You're not helping, put your fucking weapon down!"

"ALL OF YOU STAND DOWN!"

All five of the soldiers stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice. Konard had used his command voice for the first time since he arrived in this bizarre world of magic, it was a voice that could compel men to charge a hill or drop their weapons. He strode up to the three man team, whose eyes widened at the sight of their commanding officer. All of them, including Crosby and Lugo, stood ramrod straight at attention and saluted.

"Colonel Konrad, sir!"

Konrad glared at the lieutenant and his sniper.

"Lieutenant Bowles, secure your sniper before he does something we will all regret. In case you haven't noticed we are not in Dubai anymore."

"Sir, if I may, I think I can help."

Konrad turned around and saw Saito's sword talking. But it was Tebby that spoke up first.

"McPherson? Why are you a sword, el-tee?"

Crosby thought he heard McPherson sigh.

"It's a long story, corporal, could you and the other two do me a favor and touch the blade?"

Saito drew his sword and handed it off to Crosby, who extended it to the three soldiers. Hesitatingly they each put a hand on the flat of the blade. As soon as their gloved fingers touch the metal, they froze to the spot. For a full minute they remained like statues, rooted to the spot, and then just as suddenly they snapped out of it. Joe the sniper spoke first.

"Shit, that's heavy."

Bowles nodded.

"Well, that puts an interesting twist to the story."

"Once again, what am I chopped liver? Geez I feel like I'm a piece of furniture or something."

There was a second voice that came from the sword. Bowles looked shocked.

"Who the heck is that?"

It was McPherson's voice who spoke again.

"That would be Derflinger the Mouthy, lieutenant. And it's another long story."

While the pilot was trying to process the information, Konrad took the sword and handed it back to Saito. He looked back to Bowles.

"I assume that will conclude our bit of drama, Lieutenant. Can I count on you to work with the soldiers I have under my command, including Sgt. Lugo?"

Bowles saluted.

"Yes, sir! I will see to it."

Tebby spoke up.

"As the loot said, I've got some perspective now. We're cool."

The sniper saluted.

"I'll work with him, sir, and even cover his six, as long as he doesn't cramp my style."

Konrad nodded and returned the salute.

"I don't need you two to be BFF's, I just need your focus and cooperation. As you were."

He turned and saw Henrietta being led by Louise. She seemed calmer. When she approached he hung his head.

"Your highness, I am sorry for your loss. I have failed my mission. Worse, my failure has resulted in the death of your beloved. I am truly and deeply sorry for that."

He shook his head sadly.

"I was a damned fool for thinking I could find peace, even here."

"Do not blame yourself, Mr. Konrad."

He looked up, the princess had reached out to him, and took his hand in hers.

"Your mission was a success; you did exactly what you promised me to do, and brought Wales here, to Tristain. It was only by the treachery of Wardes that our plan failed. The failure and blame are mine alone."

She turned to Louise.

"Louise, my dear, I must get back to Tristainia, whether we want it or not I fear that the war we tried to prevent is imminent. And I must convene a council to find out how best to deal with it."

She looked back to Konrad.

"Mr. Konrad, with your experience in war I would greatly appreciate it if you would attend as well."

Konrad nodded, and looked over at the wreckage of his wagon and back over to Bowles.

"Think you're up for taxicab detail, lieutenant?"

The lieutenant grinned.

"As long as four of the passengers aren't scared of heights, sir!"

_And it came to pass that Sir Crosby and Bravo Six are reunited, and there was much rejoicing. Except for Lugo. And the minstrel. _

_GET ON WITH IT!_

_So as I said this is a short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it. Now you know why McPherson is a sword, I basically made him an anthropomorphic plot exposition/handwaver to allow other members of the Damned 33rd to play nicely with Lugo. Next chapter will shift back to the Radioman and Lt. Gordon in Albion, as they deal with the aftermath of the prince's assassination. With all the pieces on this chessboard it's going to be challenging to make sure everyone gets screen time, including Louise and her familiar.)_


	25. Enter The Dragon

_(AN: Someone asked how it was I've been churning out so many chapters this week. Over the weekend I stubbed out this arc, and had it about 70% done. Combine that with some weather-related downtime, and I was able to write out as many chapters as I've had this week._

_So I lied, this chapter is more exposition. And it's short. And this part is a flashback, I was going to make this the previous chapter but I decided against it since it has spoilers. This takes place in Albion just after Konrad and co. left Albion.)_

**(12 hours earlier, in a remote estate in Albion)**

Dark figures glide through the mist-covered grounds of an old estate. The mansion is dark, and appears abandoned. These figures drift towards a side entrance of the mansion and enter the door. Inside, a darkened stairwell leads to cavernous room, lit by a fire in a brazier. In the center of the room is a throne, with a large firestone crystal next to it. A figure wearing a mask is seated in the throne. This was the secret conclave of the Reconquista.

When the last two figures entered the room, the person seated in the throne spoke.

"Sheffield, you were almost late. I trust your expedition to Tristain was fruitful?"

"It was, I was able to acquire an asset that will help us in our endeavors."

The speaker named Sheffield was female, and removed her mask, revealing a dark-haired woman with unsettling violet eyes.

The seated figure removed his mask, revealing an older man with a scar on his face. The one called Sheffield spoke.

"So, the prince is away?"

The man nodded.

"He is on an airship on his way to Tristain as we speak, he should arrive in the morning."

"Then our trap is sprung, Cromwell. I hope you know what you're doing. I'm taking an awful risk letting the prince slip out of our grasp. This had better work."

"It will work, I have the perfect man for the job. Someone the princess implicitly trusts."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The princess has a best friend, someone who attends the Academy of Magic in Tristain. And our man is that girl's fiancé."

"Perfect, then nothing can stop us."

One of the other masked persons spoke.

"What of the bodyguard? He is a threat."

Cromwell waved his hand.

"No, I think not. I believe he will be no match for the count."

A new voice spoke up in the darkness.

"Count Wardes is a fop and a fool. He will underestimate the brat's bodyguard, and it will cost him his life, mark my words."

Sheffield gestured to the cloaked newcomer.

"This is the asset I spoke of, one that I sprung from prison. May I introduce the thief Fouquet, of the Crumbling Earth."

The newcomer pulled her hands from the folds of her cloak, revealing fingers that were bandaged together, and removed her mask. The woman's eyes burned with hatred.

"I, too, underestimated this man; I thought he was a mere commoner, a soldier no different from the ones that inhabit the ranks of our military. I know what sort of man this Crosby is; he is no mere knight or mage. He comes from another world, and wields weapons that render all but the most powerful magic useless. I vowed that the man called Crosby would rue the day he spared my life, I will help you with your petty goals of invading Tristain, if it will allow me to take my revenge against the man who maimed and disgraced me."

Cromwell rubbed his chin.

"What sort of man is this Sir Crosby?"

"I believe I can answer that, Sir Cromwell."

The owner of the new voice removed his mask and spoke.

"I met this Sir Crosby at the festival, and at the time I knew there was more to him than met the eye."

Sheffield glared at noble.

"If you had suspicions, Sir Percival, why did you not act upon them?"

Cromwell waved a hand.

"Peace, Sheffield, let my friend speak."

Sir Percival nodded.

"I believe this Sir Crosby is the most dangerous sort of man. He permanently lamed one of my toughest mercenaries, and did so to protect the princess's best friend, posing as his daughter. This girl, if the stories are to be believed, is nothing more than a spoiled brat from a wealthy family. And yet he risked his life to protect her."

He shook his head.

"In speaking to him I believe him to be a good, honorable man. Brimir help me, I know him to be. If I had men like that under my command, we would be unstoppable."

"But we can't."

He smiled at Sheffield.

"No, we can't. As I said, he is the most dangerous sort of man, someone who is ruthless without being blinded by ambition, with skills honed in the fire of battle that make him powerful but bound by his conscience, and an undying loyalty to those close to him. Someone who can never bought, and can't be blackmailed."

Sheffield sniffed.

"In short, the insufferable sort of person that ends up becoming the hero of an epic tale."

His smile vanished from his face.

"Yes, and I sincerely thank Brimir every evening that there is only one of him, for the sake of the Reconquista. If there were even two such men in Helkeginia, that would spell our doom."

There was a rumble like thunder, and the fire in the brazier winked out. The firestone glowed an evil blood red, like magma. A voice like continents crashing against one another issued from the glow.

**"Foolssss. Foolish little men who whimper in dark places like whipped dogs at the threat of one man, when you realize there are not one, but several who joined him. There are even his kind within your own pathetic little island."**

Cromwell looked shocked.

"What? How?"

The voice continued.

**"Little importance to anyone but little men. The thief is correct, these men are soldiers, killers who come from another world, a world of violence, glorious violence…and weaponsss….ahh their world has weapons that make your petty elemental magic look like parlor tricks…weapons of fire, weapons that burn, maim, and kill hundreds, thousands, even one that can kill millionssss in one ball of fire. These are the men that you face. But I can provide asisssstance."**

Sheffield was the only one brave enough to speak.

"W-what sort of assistance?"

**"There was another soul that came from their violent world, one that was consumed for vengeance, one that I was able to ensssnare. I remade him in my image, he is my First, my Nahkriin, which in our ****_thu'um _****means 'Vengeance', and I offer him to you, if you promise to releasssse me."**

"How?"

**"Unimportant, I will provide you with the knowledge and meanssss to release me, you must agree to serve my ends."**

Sheffield looked back to Cromwell and the members of the Reconquista's inner circle. All nodded in turn, only Sir Percival averted his eyes and abstained. She turned back to the firestone.

"We agree, Lord Alduin."

**"Very well, I offer my First to you, do not squander this gift I have given you. I will be most displeassssed if you fail."**

_(AN: Oh, come on Cromwell, you don't make deals with fell entities like dragons. Especially ones whose name is 'World Eater' in Dragonish. To them, you're little and crunchy and taste good with ketchup. _

_Soooo remember how the Dragonborn destroyed Alduin in Svongaard? Well, he kinda didn't completely destroy him, just banished him to the Dark Realm. Where he could tempt lost souls who died violent deaths and led less than nice lives to become his Dragon. And tempt villains clutching the idiot ball into unleashing him on their world. And became an even larger Ham in the process. _

_Hope you enjoyed it, next chapter, aptly titled Intel Operative will have the Radioman trolling Cromwell.)_


	26. Intel Operative

_(AN: So one more chapter to ring in the weekend! Seriously 5 chapters in 5 days, that's a new record for me. I really appreciate all the feedback and views/visits/favs/follows/comments. It helps the creative juices. Enjoy!)_

"I do not trust Sheffield, Oliver."

Cromwell was standing outside the palace of Lonidium, having just received word of the assassination of Prince Wales. The courier did not know of the fate of Wardes or the princess, but it was of little import. With the prince out of the way, the next step in his plan could be set into motion. He turned to his friend.

"Indeed, Percival? And why not?"

Sir Percival shook his head.

"She has an agenda, and I do not believe it is for the betterment of the Republic of Albion."

He shuddered.

"I also think it was foolish to treat with creatures like this Alduin."

"Come now, Percival, be realistic. If the princess is still alive she could bring Germania to her cause, or at least keep Gallia in check and result in a stalemate at best. We need his power."

He turned to look over the square.

"And what will he ask for in return? When you approached me about forming this Reconquista it was to rid Albion of a corrupt monarchy, and put the power back into the hands of its citizens. I know we have to do questionable things for the greater good of the republic, but to court creatures of evil like Alduin is wrong, and feels wrong, Oliver. I just wanted you to know that."

A sly grin formed on Cromwell's face.

"Is my loyal right hand man having second thoughts?"

"My loyalty is, and always was, unquestioning, Oliver. I would follow you into the Void if you asked. As your friend, I just wanted to voice my concerns."

Cromwell put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I appreciate your concern. But when the new Republic is founded, all this will be but a footnote in history. People for generations to come will look to us as those who liberated them from the tyranny of the monarchy."

He looked up.

"Ah, here comes King Jozef's envoy. Let us go welcome him, shall we?"

Before his friend could respond, there was an immense explosion with a blast blew both of the nobles off their feet. When Cromwell pulled himself off the ground he could hear nothing but a ringing in his ears. The air was thick with acrid smoke. When his hearing returned he was aware of a voice that seemed to come from everywhere.

_"Uh-oooooh! Guess someone's making the Naughty List! I know what you diiiid, Oliver Cromwell, very naughty of you to kill off poor little Prince Wales like that. And on foreign soil too! Tisk Tisk Tisk!"_

"Who are you! Show yourself!"

_"I am everwhere, and I am nowhere! I am everyone…and no one! I am far away and IN YOUR FACE! I am the Jester, Bitch! And since you decided to move the goalposts by killing the prince, the kid gloves come off. Have fun scraping up King Jozef's envoy, but hey, at least when you send him back to old Joey you should save on postage! Here's a little tune for you to whistle while you work!"_

_"Another one bites the dust_  
><em>Another one bites the dust<em>  
><em>And another one gone and another one gone<em>  
><em>Another one bites the dust, yeah<em>  
><em>Hey, I'm gonna get you too<em>  
><em>Another one bites the dust one bites the dust…"<em>

The Radioman flipped the switch, turning on the Queen song.

"That was a bit over the top, Darden."

He swiveled in his chair to see his top lieutenant, out of his Heavy Trooper armor, and wearing ACUs.

"Oh come on Gordon, everyone needs a little Darkman quip. It's appropriate."

"Who?"

Darden rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, Gordon! You're embarrassing yourself, dude and more to the point you're making me feel old. Okay, the Flash Gordon reference I get it, you're too young and it's not everyone's cup of java. But Darkman?"

"Sorry, Darden I was never into comic books."

Darden shook his head.

"You're hopelessly naive, Gordon. Please at least tell me you got laid before they deployed you."

Gordon gave the Radioman a flat look.

"Really, Darden?"

"What? Hey it's a legit question! I'll bet you dollars to sovereigns that poor Prince Wales probably died a virgin. Fuck the war and the monarchy, that's a real tragedy."

The lieutenant glared.

"Dude! Not funny! That kid died! The prince died while we were too busy playing cowboys and Indians with Cromwell and the Reconquista to help. I knew I should have made contact with Crosby!"

"Hey, hey, hey, relax! Take a chill-pill, dude. We didn't kill the Prince, that asswipe Cromwell did, and now we have the ammo we need to go after him. This little revolutions of ours is gaining some traction. You gotta look at the big picture."

"Will you forget your stupid little peasant revolt for a moment! With the prince dead Cromwell has the excuse he needs to go to war with Tristain. And if he gets King Joe on board, then it's not just a small beachhead contingent, but a full blown invasion! And thousands of lives are at stake."

He turned to leave.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Out. I'm taking the first airship to La Roche, and the first cab or carriage or horse-cart to Tristainia and warn the princess. If you want to stay here and play your little revolting games, you're welcome to."

He was about to open the large wooden door that led into the castle, when it opened, and a figure wearing a green cloak entered.

"If you are going to Tristain, I ask you to take me with you."

The cloaked person was female. Gordon looked skeptical.

"Okaay, so you were eavesdropping on our little piss-up. Who are you and why should I take you anywhere?"

"I have information that could save lives, and I was told that your organization could help."

She threw back her hood and cloak, revealing a girl with golden hair and light blue eyes. She was wearing short green dress a wide-brimmed sunhat, which seemed out of place. She also had a very impressive rack, the lieutenant thought. Quickly he shook his head. Focus, Gordon and stay professional, you don't want to make a bad impression.

"Daaamn! Check out the rack on the babe! Hey Gordon if you don't want to take her, I will! I'll take her anywhere!"

Gordon flushed, too late for that, thank you very much Robert Darden the Perverted. He looked over to apologize to the girl. But the girl just had a perplexed look on her face.

"I-I don't understand, what is a rack?"

"It's a desert country in my world, ma'am. What information do you have?"

She shook her head.

"It is too sensitive to discuss here, I must take a message to Princess Henrietta, and I overheard you saying that you were going there."

"And how came you of this information? Are you with the Reconquista? Or a dissident?"

She blushed.

"My father was the Archduke of Albion, and he had many powerful friends, including in the Reconquista."

Darden clapped his hands together.

"Ah, the rebellious daughter revolts against her Reconquista daddy, the plot thickens!"

"Darden, please."

He turned back to the girl.

"Okay, ma'am, why couldn't you just take an airship to Tristain yourself? Why all the secrecy?"

She blushed again, and slowly removed her sun hat. Revealing more of her golden hair, and two long pointed ears. Gordon was stunned, but it was Darden's voice that jarred him from his shock.

"Oh, hot damn, she's an elf! Holy crap, stop the presses we have a hot elf chick in our midst. Man, my old dungeon master would never believe this! Gordon if you don't say yes, I'll do it!"

The lieutenant shot Darden a nasty look.

"And if you don't shut up I swear I will take the nastiest sock I have in my dirty laundry and stuff it in your mouth! And if the fumes don't kill you at least I'll get a break from the immature drivel coming out of your mouth!"

He turned back and found the elf girl still looking puzzled at him.

"You don't know about elves?"

"No ma'am, what's the deal?"

She closed her eyes and hung her head.

"Many ages ago, my people were the dominant race in this world, but then our power waned, and human mages grew more powerful. Since our downfall we have been hunted and persecuted. I heard of the Jester and his mighty golem, and I thought if I had protection like that, I could make the journey back to Tristain. And then as I ascended the steps I overheard you saying that you were going to see the princess."

Gordon ignored the knowing look that Darden was giving him, and the wiggling eyebrows, and put a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I'm sorry to hear that, kid. What's your name?"

She flushed lightly, but smiled.

"It's Tiffania."

"Okay, Tiffania I tell you what, you can come with me, I'll get you to the princess and I promise no harm will come to you."

She looked up at him.

"You'd do this for me? Thank you so much!"

She surprised the lieutenant by giving him a big hug. Yep, he thought to himself, that's one impressive rack. He pulled his mind kicking and screaming out of the gutter to focus.

"Hey! Doesn't the Radioman get a hug too?"

_(AN: And the countdown for Gordon to reunite with his old NCO and Konrad is ticking down! _

_This marathon writing session was good, and I was able to get quite a bit done, but when I reread this chapter like 10 times and on the 11__th__ time I found a dozen spelling and grammar errors. So, I hope you enjoyed this week of daily updates, I'm taking another couple of days off to recharge. I'm working on the next chapter which switches back to Crosby and co. in Tristainia. I'm hoping to get it done by Monday. And next week I get in my new _FOZ _seasons! Wooot! Have a great weekend folks!)_


	27. The Road Back

_(AN: So this took longer than expected, so I'm splitting 'The Road Back' into two parts. The second part will reveal, among other things, a reason why 'Joe the Sniper' goes by that handle, as well as something from his dark and troubled past._

_Now we're in the second act of the story there's going to be some more silly stuff, especially when our merry band of misfits make it back to Tristain Academy of Magic. When they do set out for the 'Steel Dragon' and get to the third act, stuff is gonna get serious, but don't worry, there will be epic, curbstomp battles rated 'M' for Manly and much awesomeness to make up for the drama. Darkness will come, but take heart, the storm will break and there will be more silly to come!)_

"Hey, Loot, can't this little bird go any faster?"

There was a chuckle heard through the static.

"We're loaded past capacity, so that's a negative. What's wrong, Lugo, aren't you enjoying the view?"

"Oh it's lovely, except that it feels like I could fall to my death."

It would have been an odd sight to see. A battered AH-6J "Little Bird", with welded-on armor, loaded to capacity. A standard Little Bird could hold six, but the chopper with the callsign Bravo Six was carrying eight passengers, plus pilot and copilot.

The pilot Lt. Bowles smiled, recalling the conversation between him and his commander Konrad.

* * *

><p><strong>(half an hour earlier)<strong>

Konrad looked at the Little Bird.

"Think you're up for taxicab detail, lieutenant?"

Bowles grinned.

"As long as four of the passengers aren't scared of heights, sir!"

Crosby approached, carrying a strongbox. M32 MGL grenade launcher strapped to his back.

"Sir, most of your stuff is pancaked, but I was able to salvage the grenade launcher and your money box."

He looked over his shoulder as he watched Guiche and Saito supporting Sir Thibault.

"The Griffon Guard needs a medic, sir."

Konrad looked over to Bowles.

"Is the extra luggage going to be a problem, lieutenant?"

"Well, the 'Bird can hold almost a ton."

He looked over to the princess and the pinkette.

"But with all due respect I think I'd rather risk crashing my bird then asking a gal about her weight, sir."

He was interrupted by a yelp of pain. In looking over Louise was beating Saito with her riding crop.

"Especially the pink-haired one, the sarge said she's a walking IED with a very short fuse."

They laughed.

* * *

><p>Bowles looked over his shoulder in the crowded passenger compartment. The wounded knight Thibault was lying on the floor, the kid named Saito and the blonde fop were stabilizing him. Louise and Henrietta were sitting on the bench. This left the remaining soldiers 'monkey-strapped' and sitting on improvised seats on the wings, which made for a lively ride. Which was why Sgt. Lugo was currently voicing his displeasure.<p>

"Lugo, you're telling me you were a Delta Operator and never flied on a Killer Egg Insertion Run before?"

_"Negative, I always felt like I was missing out. Not."_

"For what it's worth sergeant, you're not going to fall out. You're strapped in, and a magical thing called gravity is pushing you into your seat. Even if this happens."

_"What happens?"_

The Little Bird banked sharply to the right to avoid a flock of birds.

"That."

He heard stream of curses coming from the Delta Force sniper, he could even hear the pinkette screaming over the engine and rotor blades.

_"Fuck! Dude that's not funny man! I almost slide out of my seat!"_

"Relax, sergeant, you're not going to fall out. It's like riding a roller coaster."

_"Do you know how many people die in roller coaster accidents?"_

"Not as many as those who die in chopper crashes. We're less than twenty klicks from Tristainia, try to grow a pair in the meantime, sergeant."

* * *

><p><strong>(exactly six minutes later)<strong>

Agnès Chevalier de Milan, leader of her majesty's elite Firearms Guards, was in a panic. The guards on the outer wall had reported that there was a bizarre airship that was buzzing around the palace, and the last report was that it was headed for the main palace courtyard. She had scrambled ten of her best knights to intercept this airship as it landed.

Whatever was propelling it, it wasn't windstones, as it slowly descended from the sky towards the ground it kicked up a huge gale-force wind. As her eyes strained against the dust being kicked up, she could make out details of the craft. It was egg-shaped, being held up by rotating blades on its top. She could see men wearing unusual clothing sitting on the outside and somehow not falling off.

As the Little Bird approached the main courtyard, Crosby could see a group of knights congregating on the ground. He slipped the catch on his 'monkey-strap' and spoke into his radio.

"Joe and I will secure the LZ, as soon as we touch down get the princess off the chopper so these local yokels don't start something they can't finish."

_"Roger that."_

As soon as the chopper touched down, he and Joe slipped off their improvised seats and moved ahead, taking up defensive positions. There was a short-haired blonde girl in armor that was trying to say something, brandishing what looked like a primitive musket.

_"Let me take out the mouthy bitch with the popgun, sarge."_

"Negative, Joe, just secure the perimeter. We've already caused one international incident, don't need to start another."

He looked over his shoulder, and saw Konrad ducking low and escorting the princess. He looked back up and saw the blonde-haired female knight getting more agitated.

Agnès was aghast, these interlopers had the princess! And one of them, an older man was holding her liege by the elbow!

The blonde female knight advanced forward and pointed her musket at Konrad. Before Crosby could say anything, Joe sprang into action and intervened. The sniper positioned himself between his CO and the knight and muzzle thumped her, throwing her off balance. She recovered and tackled him. A scuffled ensued, and in the process she pulled his keffiyeh scarf. When she saw his face she froze.

Agnès was in shock, she had been attempting to subdue the older man that was holding the princess, when one of the oddly dressed soldiers, the one with the face coverings, attacked her. She struggled with him, they rolled on the ground and in the struggle she pulled his face covering off. The soldier was just a boy!

Joe was not sure what to do. This female knight was trying to attack him a moment ago, after he had gotten the upper hand and was on top of her she had pulled his scarf off, now she had this dazed look on her face. And she was doing that eye shimmer thingie that Sgt. Crosby was talking about.

The soldier was just a boy, and very handsome with large ice blue eyes and short hair, and looking at her in this puzzled fashion. He reminded her of an old flame she had when she was younger. She blushed at the recollection. Her thoughts were interrupted.

"Agnès, stand down! These men were helping me!"

She recognized the voice over the noise of the gale-force wind, which was subsiding. She also noticed that the blades on top of the craft were slowing down. The soldier got off her and stood at attention, she sprang to her feet and banged a fist over her chest.

"Princess Henrietta! I thought you were in danger."

The princess nodded to the older man.

"This is Colonel John Konrad, he and his group of men saved me from treachery, they are our allies."

The knight turned to Konrad.

"My apologies colonel, but in these uncertain times you cannot be too careful. I am Agnès, Chevalier de Milan, at your service."

Konrad shrugged.

"No harm no foul, Agnès. Things happen."

He helped the young sniper up.

"Are you okay, soldier?

Joe shrugged.

"I'm five by five, sir. Blondie didn't faze me."

When his subordinate spoke Konrad noticed the knight called Agnès blush. He smiled to himself. He turned to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Sgt. Crosby, you take my strongbox back to town, take Lugo and Louise with you for backup and requisition any transport you deem necessary."

He saw Guiche helping the wounded knight off the chopped and nodded to Agnès.

"Ma'am, this Griffon Guard needs medical attention, see to him."

He finally turned to the crew of Bravo Six.

"Corporal, you and Joe secure the chopper."

Henrietta spoke up.

"Agnès, get General De Poitiers and the rest of my advisors. We need to convene a council of war."

She turned to Konrad.

"Colonel Konrad, I would appreciate your counsel on this. Will you help?"

He smiled at her.

"Yes, ma'am. In any way I can."

He turned to Bowles.

"Lieutenant, how do you feel about following your CO into the lion's den?"

The lieutenant sighed theatrically, but grinned.

"With all due respect sir, I'd rather fly into a hot LZ with no ammo on fumes than venture into the minefield that is politics."

"Likewise, Lieutenant, but misery loves company. Fall in."

"Yes, sir."

_(AN: And the ship-teasing continues. Seriously what are your thoughts on pairing up SOTL with FOZ characters? I mean, it's a given we have SiestaXLugo, but what do you think about other pairings? BowlesXJessica, GordonXTiffania, KonradXHenrietta…_

_*Ka-Chuk!_

_Okay, Okay, put the Willy Pete mortar down!_

_Just LMK what you think. If you're not cool with it, and don't say anything, then don't complain when I pair up Crosby with Kirche LOL. Okay I was kidding about that one. Hope you enjoyed! And the second part should be up by Monday or Tuesday.)_


	28. The Road Back, Part Deux

_(AN: Ooookaaaay…so remember when I said that 'The Road Back' was going to be a two-parter? Well I mean a three parter, apologies! Seriously I stubbed out this arc last week and figured it would be a two-parter tops, but because this is the 33rd chapter, in honor of the Damned 33rd I decided to add some more plot twists. Enjoy!)_

"I never did compliment you on that act you did this morning."

Louise looked up from the back of the wagon.

"Hmm?"

With help from the Delta Force sniper, Crosby had 'borrowed' a wagon from the palace guard's stable and now they were making their way back to Konrad's shop to drop off what was salvaged from the botched mission to Albion. A distant clock chimed quarter past ten in the morning.

"What do you mean?" The pinkette asked.

"That spiel you gave Count Wardes to provoke him into releasing the princess and dueling me, I was impressed. Wardes was impressed, too."

She shrugged.

"Well, I meant it. You are quite noble when you bother to be, and you are certainly have more right to the title of nobility than that treacherous count."

He grinned.

"I was more referring to the declarations of love. How did you put it?"

Crosby dropped the reins and clasped his hands together and mimicked her high-pitched voice.

"From the moment he set foot in my world, he stole my heart…We were destined to be together."

His hands went back to the reins.

"Pretty powerful stuff, my lady."

Louise blushed.

"T-that was nothing! That was just acting on my part!" She stammered.

Crosby chuckled.

"It's okay, my lady, I knew you were I was just teasing you. Besides I don't want to get your boyfriend Saito over here jealous."

She glared at him, flushed an even deeper pink in the face and started beating on the back his armored vest with her riding crop.

"STUPID! BODYGUARD! STUPID! STUPID! STUPID…"

Casually, the Zulu Squad sergeant grabbed her riding crop and tossed it into a river as they crossed over it. She resumed beating on him with her tiny fists, with no reaction from him.

Lugo watched this scene with a grin; Crosby sure knew how to push the pink-haired girl's buttons.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Joe! Hand me the 8" crescent wrench."<p>

Tebby had the maintenance hatch off the Little Bird and was up to his elbows in greasy engine parts. The added weight on the last flight and running it at higher rpms meant more checkups on the chopper's gearbox and oil system. When the sniper handed him the tool he looked over to him.

"Say, you never did tell me what the pretty green-haired lady in the white light told you."

The taciturn sniper was lost in thought. He recalled the moment their Little Bird crashed into Walker's Blackhawk. Like the lieutenant, he didn't feel fear or anger, just the consolation that nobody else would die that day. Then his world was engulfed in white light.

He saw her, the lady in the light, with flowing green hair that seemed tousled by an unseen wind and eyes the same color as her hair. Her radiant face smiled at him, but it was tinged with sadness.

**_"You looked up to him, didn't you? Which made the ensuing betrayal all the more painful, didn't it, Private Alexander Walker?"_**

Memories rushed past, his older brother Martin standing up for him in school, helping him with his homework, playing football with him, spending hours playing the original Contra. He remembered his brother's high school graduation, then Martin coming back from ROTC officer training over the summer, his graduation from college and his commissioning as a 2nd Lieutenant.

He remembered being so proud of him, and so envious. So when he turned 18 he immediately enlisted, and requested a transfer to his brother's unit; the 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion, commanded by the legendary Colonel John Konrad.

He felt a soft hand touch his cheek, and looked up. It was the lady, still with the same sad smile.

**_"You must let go of that pain and regret, for every weave within the Great Tapestry has its own pattern that can only be read by those who were there when it was woven. Your pattern had run its course within the tapestry, and it was prewoven and unable to be changed. There is another tapestry, one where the pattern can be changed for the better, and you can help. If you will do this for me I will grant your heart's desire."_**

"With all due respect, ma'am, how do you know what I want?"

She took both his hands and came closer until their faces were mere inches apart.

**_"Your heart's desire is the simplest of all, and yet also the most difficult. But I will grant it to you."_**

She kissed him on the lips, and he felt a surge of electricity through his body, and the next thing he knew he was seated in his gunner's chair on the Little Bird.

* * *

><p>He looked over to Tebby, who had paused in messing with the gearbox and was looking at him.<p>

"She knew my name, my real name, I mean."

Tebby looked puzzled.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask ya about that, Joe. What is your real name?"

The sniper hung his head.

"It's Alex. Private First Class Alex Walker."

There was a clang, and he looked up to see Tebby's shocked expression, he had dropped his wrench. Alex smiled bitterly.

"Yeah, as in that Walker, I'm Captain Walker's younger brother."

He shook his head.

"I looked up to him, and joined the Army because of him. We served together briefly, I wasn't in his platoon, brass was already having a shit-fit about two family members serving in the same battalion. When I was a newcomer and was getting orientation, I saw him and he was about the same as I remembered. Then Kabul happened. I wasn't there, I only saw the aftermath. Because of what happened Konrad pulled strings and got him four day leave and we went to Amsterdam to try and decompress."

He looked back to Tebby.

"Martin had changed after that incident. Most of the time he was fine, but then there would come these times when he would space off, and act as if you weren't even there. Or he'd be talking to someone that wasn't there. I remember the second night we were there we got really hammered and we were laughing about something or the other, and all of a sudden he started crying, rattling off names and crying. When we reported back to base he seemed okay, but shortly after that he requested a transfer to Swick at Fort Bragg. Said he needed a change of pace. I had heard that he graduated with flying colors, and managed to get into Delta Force. I was still in the Rockpile when he graduated, but I got an email about it."

Tebby still looked shocked.

"But, when he showed up…how did you…"

"By that point I was part of the highrise sniper cadre, we were pretty isolated from the rest of the 33rd. My cadre was the only ones who knew my name, and I had insisted to them that it had to be a mistake. It couldn't have been my brother. Even when I heard word about the Gate Massacre, I still didn't believe it. Then after Lt. Gordon bought the farm during the water truck raid, in the ensuing chaos I took off my name tape and made my buddies swear to secrecy. It was my secret shame, and from that moment on I went by 'Joe'. I figured the odds of us getting out alive after the water was gone were pretty much nil anyways."

Alex hung his head.

"Then that day came, that fateful day that keeps replaying in my mind over and over again. We had received word that Walker and his team were trying to get to the Radioman in his tower, so we were on high alert. Me and my spotter had zip-lined to an adjacent highrise to do some visual recon. When I was doing a sweep of the skyline, I saw him. I could barely recognize him, he was ragged and bloodied, but I knew it was him."

He glared at Tebby.

"I had him in my sights, dead to rights. I could have pulled the trigger and ended the madness right then and there!"

He shook his head.

"But I didn't. A part of me, the part that still loved my brother, couldn't. My spotter was pissed, and told me to stay put, and he zip-lined back. All I could do was watch through my scope as that sick bastard murdered all my buddies one by one. I felt sick. So when Sgt. Crosby, as the commander of Zulu Squad and the leader of the Little Bird Squadron, requested volunteers for door gunners I took it. I thought maybe I could undo the damage. Or at least end the pain."

Alex felt his knees give out from under him, and he fell the ground weeping silent tears. He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Tebby crouching next to him.

"Kid, I'm not going to try and BS you by trying to talk the pain away. That shit is something you have to square away on your own time. But don't spend too much time dwelling on the past, or hating the dead. For what it's worth I got your back."

He stood up and grinned.

"At least I know your name now, and can introduce you to all the ladies!"

He looked over and saw the blonde knight approaching. He also noticed that as soon as she made eye contact with the sniper she blushed. He smiled to himself. Looks like Jeanne and Marlène have competition. The knight spoke.

"Colonel Konrad requests your presence in the palace; it is of an urgent nature."

* * *

><p>Crosby had parked the wagon and supervised Lugo and Saito manhandle the strongbox off the wagon. The pinkette had finally tired of beating on him, mostly because she was getting no reaction from him, and had hopped off the wagon. Crosby had moved ahead to open the door, and suddenly realized there was someone else in the shop. He brought his weapon to bear, and the stranger made a flourishing bow.<p>

"Ah, Sir Crosby it is good to see you again."

He lowered his weapon a fraction, and heard the sound of Lugo cocking his TAR-21.

"And you as well, Sir Percival. I am afraid the shop is closed, but if you wish I can send word to Mr. Konrad."

The Albion noble shook his head.

"That will not be necessary, it was not Mr. Konrad that I wished to see."

He looked over and saw Lugo brandishing his weapon.

"Please, Sir Crosby, I come to parley."

He set his wand and sword on the workbench.

"If that will put your mind at ease."

Crosby lowered his weapon and looked over and nodded to Lugo.

"Lugo, take the kids upstairs and be on the lookout for trouble."

"Roger that, sarge."

He turned back to Sir Percival, who was examining the anvil by the workbench.

"You know, Sir Crosby, when we met in Londinium, I knew there was more to you that met the eye, but never in my wildest dreams would I have thought you were from another world."

Crosby tried to feign ignorance.

"Really, Sir Percival, I know you don't have a very high opinion of Tristain, but to call it another world is a bit absurd."

The noble turned and chuckled. He walked over to Crosby, taking in his Zulu Squad uniform and helmet, finally fixating on his P90.

"You will forgive me for saying this, but you are most unusually dressed, for a knight. Nothing, not the clothes you wear nor the weapons you brandish seem to be anything from this world. So I ask you, why do you support the Tristain nobles? Surely you can see they are just a gaggle of corrupt idiots born into privilege while less fortunate ones slave away to support them?"

Crosby smiled.

"It's true, there are some that do an injustice to the name noble, but there are bad apples in every bunch. Surely the Reconquista's hands are not clean."

Sir Percival smiled thinly.

"Yes, it's true. Our hands aren't clean, and there are days when I even question our methods as a means to an end. But what is it like in your world? Surely there are places where the countries are not ruled by tyrants."

The Zulu Squad sergeant sat down on one of the stools and motioned the noble to do the same.

"Our world is very similar to yours in many respects, the names of the countries, and even some names within the different factions. There are good governments and bad governments in my world."

Crosby pointed to the black and white upside-down flag on his assault vest.

"That is the symbol of the country I served, and it was a success story in a government being ruled by its citizens. But it's an exception to the rule, and last I heard of it the cracks were already showing in the foundation."

He looked down.

"I've witnessed firsthand what happens when you try and unseat tyranny by force, take his power away and put it in the hands of those whom he was oppressing. It's not pretty. You end up with chaos, bloodshed, and then some power block takes advantage of the vacuum, takes control and ends up being ten times worse than the tyrant you unseated."

Crosby shook his head.

"As bad as it sounds, sometimes the status quo is the lesser of two evils."

He looked over to Sir Percival, who had a pensive look on his face.

"I will ask it, although I already know the answer, not because of that but because you are an honorable man and would give me an honest answer."

He looked directly at Crosby.

"If you had ended up on Albion instead of Tristain, if your first contact was say, me, instead of those spoiled Tristain nobles, would you have joined my cause?"

Crosby smiled.

"Honestly, I don't know. If you were as on the level then as you are now, I probably would have. Although I couldn't say for sure."

The noble seemed satisfied and stood up.

"Very well, it is a shame I could not have on my side. Your skills and your character would go far in convincing others of our cause."

He took his sword and wand and gave another bow.

"Farewell, Sir Crosby, may the next time we meet be in honorable combat on the battlefield!"

Crosby returned the bow.

"For your sake, I hope not. Farewell Sir Percival."

Without another word the noble left. Outside, Sir Percival saw his traveling companion, a woman concealed in a deep cloak, only her violet eyes visible.

"So the bodyguard will not be turned." She stated rather than asked.

Sir Percival shook his head.

"As I feared, he is an honorable man, who cannot be tempted by mere power or ambition. More's the pity."

The woman smiled, but it unsettled the noble.

"More's the pity indeed. Then we must be off, Cromwell will want to hear the bad news quickly. But first."

She nodded to a couple of thugs, one holding a large ceramic jug with a rag stuffed into the spout and the other a torch. The one set the rag on fire with the torch and the other, heaved the jug into the shop, where it burst into flames.

"What in Brimir's name are you doing, witch?" he shouted at her.

She continued to smile.

"Why, we have to send a message to Konrad not to interfere with Reconquista affairs."

"But Sir Crosby is still in there! And there are children in there as well!"

She shrugged.

"It is unfortunate that they were in there at the time. Let us hope they can escape before the flames engulf them."

Sir Percival glared at her, and quickly marched over to a tavern adjacent to the smithy shop. The tavern owner was in the process of repainting his sign on a ladder, only to have it rudely taken out from under him. He clutched to the sign for purchase, but slipped and fell into a passing manure cart, cursing the idiot who took his ladder. Sir Percival had placed the ladder under the attic window, and with a blast of his wand smashed the glass.

He turned back to catch up to Sheffield, who was seething.

"What are you doing you fool!"

He smiled lightly.

"As you said, it would have been unfortunate if they perished in the flame. I merely made sure it didn't come to that."

She stormed off in a huff.

"Cromwell will hear of this, Percival, mark my words!"

Sir Percival's smile vanished, and in its place was a frown. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sir Crosby and the other man helping the two children out of the burning house and down the ladder.

"Cromwell will hear of many things, Sheffield, of that I promise."

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUUUNNNN! So now you know the truth about Joe the Sniper! And maybe this Sir Percival isn't as bad an egg as we thought originally. I did want to include a sympathetic character within the Reconquista to show things from their perspective. Anyways, next chapter deals with the war council. Hopefully I'll have it up by the end of the week.)_


	29. The Road back, Part Trois

_(AN: So here is the last part of Road Back, it's a lot shorter than I would like, but I've been suffering from a massive writer's block this week. Thanks to AznMagicman for weapon suggestions, this chapter primarily will set the stage for the coming war with the Reconquista.)_

"Colonel Konrad requests your presence in the palace; it is of an urgent nature."

Tebby looked up at the blonde knight.

"Did he say what it was about, ma'am?"

She shook her head.

"No, only that he asked that Corporal Tebby bring his 'shoot-gun', whatever that it."

The corporal wiped grease off his hands with a rag and smiled.

"I think he meant 'shotgun', and yes I can bring that."

He went over to the metal box welded to the floor of the chopper, which served as their armory. As Tebby performed this task, Agnès turned to the young sniper and blushed.

"I-I am sorry for attacking you earlier, sir. It was a mistake on my part."

The sniper shook his head.

"It's no big deal, ma'am. Fog of war and all that."

Agnès looked puzzled. He sighed.

"It means I forgive you, no harm no foul."

She nodded, but was still flushed.

"Could I ask you something, sir?"

"Sure."

"What is your name?"

He paused, and saw Tebby looking at him.

"It's Walker, ma'am, Alex Walker."

A small smile crept across her face.

"Please call me Agnès, I am not your superior."

Tebby grinned as approached with his trusty W1300 shotgun.

"Alright, if you two lovebirds can stop the awkward flirting for a minute, I have the 'shoot-gun'. Ma'am, go ahead and lead the way."

Both the sniper and the knight blushed, and any angry retort Alex was going to say was cut off by Agnès briskly marching off in the direction of the palace.

* * *

><p>"I wish to voice my objections to this, with respect, your highness."<p>

Princess Henrietta stopped her discourse with Konrad and looked over to the interrupter. General du Poitiers was an older distinguished-looking noble wearing a highly ornate armored breastplate and gorget over his uniform, topped off with an ermine cape.

"And why would that be, General?"

"Whilst I understand the need to utilize whatever means we have at our disposal, it seems cowardly to use ranged weapons. It takes the valor and honor away from the battlefield and turns it into a massacre."

Before the princess could reply it was Konrad that spoke.

"With all due respect general, we face a numerically superior foe that will not let things like honor and valor get in the way of victory."

Henrietta nodded.

"I can appreciate what you say, General. I have not entertained these thoughts lightly. I have seen what these weapons can do firsthand, and I shudder to think the kind of a world were such weapons are commonplace. But I have a responsibility to look after my kingdom, and if utilizing these destructive weapons means saving lives of my subjects then so be it."

The door to the princess's war room opened, and Agnès entered followed by the other two soldiers. The female knight bowed.

"Your highness, Colonel Konrad, here are the soldiers you requested."

Konrad nodded.

"The princess speaks wisdom, but there is a minor problem. The weapons you have seen us use, such as the miniguns on our airship or the portable machinegun that Sir Crosby wields have very intricate workings."

He motioned over to Bowles, who was standing at attention behind him.

"Lieutenant, may I see your weapon?"

Bowles nodded, and crisply removed his M9 from its holster on his belt and offered it to his CO. Konrad accepted it, ejected the magazine and pulled the slide back into a locked position. He then handed the unloaded weapon to Henrietta, who looked it over with undisguised interest.

"Your highness, this is an M9 semiautomatic handgun. It is a personal defense weapon of soldiers that were under my command in the 33rd. It is a less-sophisticated cousin to the machineguns whose power you have witnessed."

She looked up from the handgun to Konrad.

"That object you removed from its underside, that is where the projectiles are stored?"

"Yes, your highness. Unlike your muskets these weapons fire bullets."

He held one of the 9mm bullets up between his thumb and forefinger.

"These bullets have a self-contained explosive charge within the cylindrical cartridge behind the actual projectile; this combined with the primer allows the bullet to travel at much higher speeds."

He took the handgun back from the princess.

"Combined with rifling within the barrel of the weapon, the semiautomatic handgun has greater range and accuracy than a musket. However, it is also more complex. It uses a very intricate mechanism for chambering each round, one that with the tools and materials available in this world would make it next to impossible to reproduce in the quantities necessary for the war effort."

He put the magazine back into the M9, cocked it and handed it back to Bowles. The colonel looked over to Tebby.

"Corporal, may I see your weapon?"

Tebby handed Konrad his shotgun. Konrad racked the slide, until all eight shells had been ejected, and handed it to the princess.

"This is a shotgun, it uses the same principle as the handgun, insofar as it the firing principle. However, each cartridge or shell is manually chambered by this pump action. It's simple enough to where I think I could reverse engineer it and make a copy of it."

Henrietta examined the shotgun with its sawed off barrel and pistol grip wrapped in duct tape.

"So this weapon is something you could make?"

Konrad nodded.

"I think I can have a prototype within a couple of weeks. We will have to muster every smithy in the kingdom to produce them en mass before the Reconquista makes its move."

He was interrupted by loud voices outside and the door being kicked open. Sgt. Crosby rushed in, reeking of smoke, carrying Louise. The pinkette was covered in soot, barely conscious and coughing. Sgt. Lugo came in after the Zulu Squad soldier carrying Saito, who was unconscious.

"I need a medic or a healer stat!" Crosby shouted.

Henrietta immediately sent her knight to seek out a healer. Konrad helped Crosby set the pinkette down onto a couch.

"What happened, Crosby?"

The old soldier shook his head.

"The Reconquista happened, sir. Sir Percival, the noble we met at the festival, was in your shop when we arrived. He tried to persuade me to switch sides and join his cause. When I refused he seemed understanding. But shortly after that someone threw some sort of Molotov cocktail into your shop."

"How did you escape?"

"Someone, I suspect Sir Percival, left a ladder by the attic window."

Crosby looked down at Louise.

"If it wasn't there we might not have all gotten out of there alive."

Henrietta arrived with healers in tow.

"See to these young ones, please!"

While the healers were busy helping the two teenagers, Konrad spoke.

"Were you able to salvage anything?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Lugo was able to save your metal footlocker and your medals display case. Other than that everything else was torched."

Konrad looked down at the display case, and picked it up.

"I guess that makes short work of my blacksmithing career."

Henrietta approached bowed her head.

"I am sorry for dragging you into this, Mr. Konrad. If not for me you would not have lost your wagon, your shop or your livelihood."

He gave a reassuring smile.

"It's alright, your highness. War is hell and a dirty business, and bad things happen. I am just grateful not to have lost any men in the process."

The princess placed a hand on his arm.

"I have several blacksmiths on staff at the palace here, you are welcome to stay."

"I appreciate that, your highness."

He nodded over to Crosby, who was busy fussing over Louise and Saito.

"From what I'm told the Academy of Magic is already getting pretty crowded."

_(AN: And I feel bad since this is such a short chapter. I had churned out like 3/4's of this chapter, but by Wednesday I was hit by the aforementioned block. And it doesn't help that the knucklehead whom I bought the FOZ seasons from is taking his sweet time getting them to me. Not to worry, though, I have the next chapter stubbed out and should have it done by Monday or Tuesday at the latest!)_


	30. Intel Operative, Part Deux

_(AN: Hooray! 10,000 visitors to this story! That is soooo awesome. After I finished my happy-dance I went ahead and posted this second part to Intel Operative. Like the Road Back there will be a third part, but I figured I'd get this up before the weekend. To reference a question, the Intel Operative chapter(s) technically takes place after the events of The Road Back. Anyways heeeere's Gordon!)_

**(T+72 hours after Prince Wales' assassination)**

Gordon awoke from troubled dreams of Dubai. Specifically the ones where he was pulling a extra shift manning a turret and sleeping in a HUMVEE. He felt like he's been sleeping on the floor. And as he became aware of his surroundings, he found that to be true. He had been sleeping on the floor. A soft sigh came from the bed not far from where he had been sleeping and reminded him why he was sleeping on the floor.

He and Tiffania had arrived in Tristain the day before, traveling through the countryside to a large forest on the outskirts of Tristainia. The elf girl had a cottage deep in the forest, and she said they could spend the night there. Gordon had volunteered to sleep on the floor, and that's when things got awkward.

"Why?" She asked, puzzled. "The bed is big enough for both of us."

"Well," he said scratching the back of his neck nervously, "I don't think it would be appropriate for, well, you know…"

The fact that she was very pretty and sporting a bust that would make most porn actresses jealous didn't make it any easier. She blushed.

"It's because I'm an elf, right?"

"No, no, no!"

He said very frantically. The last thing he wanted was a diplomatic incident. He continued.

"It's just that where I come from, in my world, it's inappropriate for girl and a guy who don't know each other to share a bed. I don't mind sleeping on the floor, okay?"

She seemed disappointed, and had told him that if he changed his mind he could come to bed any time, the nights could get chilly, she had said.

At the time the lieutenant had shook his head at her naiveté, and insisted it would be alright for him to sleep on the floor.

He was interrupted from his musings by a yawn, and saw Tiffania sit up in bed and stretch, puffing out her already impressive rack. He quickly looked away and thought about the time he got shot in the ass in Kabul.

"Oh, you're awake already? I hope you spend the whole night on the floor?"

Her shimmering blue eyes seemed worried, and he allowed a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, I slept great." He lied.

* * *

><p>The streets of Tristania were bustling with tradesmen and workers plying their trade in the morning. Everyone gave a wide berth to a young woman with a green cloak and a wide sun hat. More to the point, they were giving a wide berth to her and her escort, a large armor-plated golem brandishing some very bizarre looking sleek musket.<p>

"Relax, Tiffania, everything is going to be fine."

She jumped at the sound of Gordon's voice sounding so distorted through the concealed speaker in his helmet.

It was Gordon's idea that he would suit up in his Heavy Trooper armor, for intimidation of anyone that might find out she was an elf in disguise, and even in Tristain the Jester and his golem had a reputation. Which was why everyone was giving them a wide berth.

"See Tif? Everyone's so scared of me they're not even giving you a second thought."

She looked up at him.

"Aren't you uncomfortable in that suit?"

"Oh, I'm fine." He lied.

Truth be told he was sweating like a pig in the afternoon heat. He was exhausted too, the result of getting a fitful night's sleep. In the early morning hours he could have sworn he heard the distant familiar sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. He shook his head. Just his imagination.

"Not to worry, I'm fine in this suit. And if it helps protect you, it's worth it."

He paused to get his bearings, wearing the bulky helmet practically eliminated all of his peripheral vision, after he finished his scan he noticed Tiffania was still looking at him.

"What is it? Is my fly open?"

She looked puzzled again.

"I don't understand."

"I mean, you're kind of looking at me funny."

"Oh, it's nothing, it's just you've been so kind to me, and yet you hardly know me. You remind me of someone I used to know."

He checked a couple of rough-looking types who immediately shuffled off when they saw the imposing golem staring at them.

"Really? Who was he?"

"I don't know, I never got his name. But he saved me from danger, and never asked for anything in return."

"What happened to him?"

She looked crestfallen.

"He left after only one day, said he would be back. But he never came back. He was so kind. I felt safe when I was with him."

She looked up at Gordon.

"Like I do with you!"

She was doing that eye shimmer again, Gordon thought to himself. He interrupted his thoughts to look ahead. The palace loomed up in front of them.

"Looks like we're here."

"What if they don't let us in?" She asked.

He patted his AA-12 automatic shotgun with the 'Damned 33rd' logo on it.

"That's what this baby is for, diplomacy through superior firepower. Let me do the talking."

They approached the gates, where there were two knight guarding the gate. All their bravado left them as soon as they saw a large, imposing golem in bizarre armor.

"S-state your business!" One of the guards stammered. The golem spoke in a deep, menacing voice.

"I bring word from the Jester, for the ears of your monarch. War is coming to Tristian. Give us entrance."

"Or else?"

The golem leveled his weapon, which looked like a sleek musket.

"Unpleasant things happen. This news will not wait, and one way or another the princess must hear of it."

One guard turned to the other.

"Go get Agnès, quickly!"

* * *

><p>The captain of the Musketeer Knights was hurrying to the palace gates. A frantic messenger had told her that the Jester's otherworldly golem was at the gates demanding an audience with the princess. It was making ominous threats if refused. She was still contemplating this as she rounded the corner and approached the entrance. She gasped.<p>

The golem was large and menacing. Standing behind the golem was a girl with a green traveling cloak and a broad-brimmed sunhat. There was something familiar about the golem. Her eyes fell onto the golem's weapon and she let out another gasp. On his weapon was a small emblem with a fanged skull. It was the same emblem worn by the odd soldiers under Konrad's command.  
>She took a step forward and addressed the golem.<p>

"The princess is indisposed at the moment, but I have a question. Your emblem, on your weapon, what does it signify?"

The golem froze.

"Why do you ask?"

"Do you know someone by the name of Crosby, or Konrad?"

It took a step forward, and she had to resist the temptation to step back. Then it did something that surprised her. It let go of its weapon, letting it dangle on the strap, and reached for its head.

Gordon flipped open his visor, and pulled down his balaclava.

"Sgt. Crosby is here?"

* * *

><p>"Say, sarge, does the lady in the white light ever visit you in your sleep?"<p>

Crosby looked up from eating. He had declined Henrietta's invite to lunch and asked if they could send some food over to their improvised landing pad by the Little Bird. Bowles was still with Konrad in the second day of the princess's war council, which left Tebby still messing with the chopper, Lugo and Alex shooting empty bottles in the courtyard, and Crosby watching over Louise and Saito as they recovered from the fire. The healers had said that both teens would make a full recovery, but he still spent most of his time at the pinkette's bedside. He took a break for lunch.

"Sometimes the Weaver crops up, why? Did she show up last night?"

Alex thought for a moment.

"She showed up in my dreams, last night."

Alex was back in the light, and he saw the same lady. She was smiling at him.

**_"So, how does the lonely sniper like the new world?"_**

He shrugged.

"Locals are a bit weird, but it's nice."

She put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled.

**_"You really should take whatever comfort is offered to you, Alex Walker. Not many get second chances like this."_**

He returned her smile.

"So, what brings you to my dreams?"

The smile disappeared from the lady's lips.

**_"I know that you felt anger at what happened in your old life. But you must let go of your anger at your brother."_**

"What do you know about my brother?"

Her smile returned.

_**"He is in another world, trust in my words when I say that he is atoning for his sins. Your quest is just beginning, take heart and know that in this pattern you can be the hero."**_

Alex looked at Crosby.

"She said that Walker, Captain Walker, was in another world, it makes me wonder where he went."

Crosby was about to respond when he saw the knight captain approach.

"Sir Crosby, Konrad requests your presence in the war room. Someone has brought word from Albion. And he appears to know you."

_(AN: yeah I'm a stinker for ending it here, but the third part will involve a flashback of Konrad's first day in Helkeginia. Should have it up by the middle of next week. Until then, enjoy!)_


	31. Intel Operative, Part Trois

_(AN: So here's the last part of Intel Operative! After this I think I'm taking a short break, anywhere from a couple of days to a week, just to recharge. But I figured I'd throw some fun bits in here for you to enjoy!)_

Tiffania's eyes widened when she saw Konrad. The blonde knight captain had led them into the palace and ushered them into the war room. Gordon had removed his helmet and was marveling at the thought of seeing his old CO. In the war room he saw three gentlemen in ornate noble's robes sitting at a table and debating with a young purple-haired lady sitting at the head of the table. The lady he recognized from intel photos as the monarch of Tristain, Princess Henrietta.

But there was a man standing at the end of the table pouring over some sketches and blueprints. The man that caught Gordon's attention was an older man wearing an olive-green dress uniform. Colonel John Konrad. But before he could even speak it was the elf girl that beat him to the punch.

"It's you!"

She exclaimed and rushed over to the colonel and hugged him tightly. Konrad was too shocked to see another of his soldiers to pay attention to the girl in the green dress, but when she collided with him her hat came off, he saw her ears and suddenly he remembered.

* * *

><p>He remembered his first morning in the new world, waking up in a bed and thinking he was back in Dubai. As he brushed the cobwebs of sleep from his mind he recalled the very vividly weird dream he had, being in a forest, rescuing a girl from evil-doers, following her back to her cottage. The real kicker was the dream transitioned to night and he was looking up at the alien sky with two moons. He sat up and was about to get out of bed when he realized three things; first, the room was not his penthouse suite at the Burj Khalifa hotel tower in Dubai, second, he wasn't alone in bed, and thirdly the occupant was female.<p>

Tiffania stretched and yawned, and looked over at her savior. He looked as if he had just woken up as well, and had the oddest look on his face. He shook his head.

"I guess it wasn't a dream, then."

* * *

><p>Crosby smiled at the sight of his CO being glomped by an elf girl. He looked over to the princess and saw her watch this scene unfold with disapproval in her eyes. Was that jealousy? The princess cleared her throat, and Tiffania blushed and quickly disengaged from Konrad.<p>

"My apologies, your highness. I bring word that the Reconquista plans to invade Tristain."

While Tiffania spoke, Crosby looked over to 'golem' wearing armor Heavy Trooper. He recognized the face.

"Lieutenant Gordon, sir?"

The young lieutenant grinned.

"It's good to see you again, sergeant."

Crosby nodded over to the elf girl.

"I like the company you keep, but aren't you jealous that she may carry the torch for someone else?"

Gordon shook his head.

"No, sergeant, Tiff is just very, very naïve. She doesn't realize that things she does that are innocent reasons have certain connotations."

He looked his Zulu Squad sergeant over.

"So, you're with the royal Tristain court, huh?"

It was Crosby's turn to shake his head.

"Negative, I'm actually a Bodyguard Chevalier to a little pink-haired witch who attends the Tristain Academy of Magic. She's BFF's with the princess, hence why I'm here."

Gordon nodded.

"So how did you get here?"

"Probably the same way as you, a beautiful woman with green hair said I could do good and become the hero. I've been here slightly over a week. How about you, how long have you been here?"

"About three months give or take. I've been holed up in Albion. Believe it or not I saw you in Londinium, that day of the festival."

"Really?"

"Yep, I was the prince's contact; actually I was acting on behalf of Darden."

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"You mean to tell me that of all the members of the Damned 33rd that could have showed up, that loudmouthed hippie prick Robert Darden, aka the Radioman is here?"

Gordon smiled.

"He's not that bad, sergeant. Actually I take that back, he can be an annoying prick. But he is helping with the war effort by staging acts of sabotage and roadside bombing against the Reconquista. I got sick of his games and decided to leave Albion with the girl. I figured I could do more good here than playing golem to Darden's Jester."

He looked over from his conversation to Gordon and saw Konrad approach. He straightened up and saluted his CO.

"Lt. Gordon, sir, reporting with war asset."

Konrad returned the salute and smiled.

"So, Lieutenant, what do you think of the assets on our war asset?"

Gordon attempted to keep a straight face.

"Sir, with all due respect, I would ask the same of the colonel, sir."

That broke the mood and all three soldiers burst out laughing.

"All joking aside, sir, it's good to see you made it here."

"Likewise, lieutenant, although I wish it were under better circumstances."

Crosby looked over the elf girl, who was engaged in an in-depth interview with the princess and her advisors.

"What's the news?"

Gordon shook his head.

"Not good. Cromwell and his Reconquista have usurped power, and they're going to use Prince Wales' assassination as an excuse to declare war on Tristain. Word is they're mustering an army of thousands."

Konrad looked over at some sketches he had made of the prototype weapons.

"How long do we have?"

The lieutenant shrugged.

"More than a month, less than twelve weeks. It's summer in Albion so they're going to wait until after harvest before mustering troops."

Konrad nodded.

"That might give us enough time to put some weapons into the hands of Henrietta's troops, some weapons that could do real damage."

The Zulu Squad sergeant suddenly remembered something.

"Colonel, Lieutenant, sirs, with your permission I have to take leave. I forgot I have to check on someone, sir."

The colonel smiled.

"Dismissed, sergeant; go check on our little pink-haired pint-sized powerhouse and make sure she's alright. That's an order."

Crosby saluted and left the room.

* * *

><p>The Zulu Squad sergeant found the blonde fop Guiche watching over the sleeping Louise and Saito. The blonde teen stood up.<p>

"Have either of them woken up, Guiche?"

"No, Sir Crosby, not since you left. Louise was speaking your name in her sleep."

He nodded.

"Go get some chow, kid, I'll take this shift."

Guiche did not need any encouragement and left. Crosby sat in the large high-backed chair between the beds. Suddenly the pinkette sat up in bed.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby!"

He quickly left the chair and sat on her bedside.

"I'm right here, my lady. Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Her large eyes focused on the Zulu Squad sergeant and she smiled.

"Oh, thank you for saving me, Sir Crosby! I thought we were going to die."

He smiled.

"I'm your bodyguard, remember? I'd be a lousy bodyguard if I let something happen to you or Saito."

She did a take and looked over to the bed where Saito was sleeping.

"How is he? Is he injured?"

Crosby grinned.

"Rest easy, my lady."

She turned back to him.

"Your boyf-" She gave him a deathglare at the innuendo, and he decided not to push his luck, "your familiar is fine, he is just sleeping. You should get some rest yourself."

She nodded, and put a small finger to her chin.

"We have to get back to the Academy, I forgot we have mid-terms next week."

The pinkette yawned.

"I need to get back so I can study."

"Or pretend to study, you mean?"

She feebly hit him on the forearm.

"Stupid! Bodyguard!"

He chuckled and stood up.

"Very well, my lady should get her rest so she can study when we arrive in the Tristain Academy of Magic tomorrow."

* * *

><p>That night, even though Henrietta had offered sleeping quarters for all the soldiers, Tebby opted to sleep by their improvised campsite by the Little Bird, to keep guard over his baby. Originally all three of the soldiers from Bravo Six had opted to sleep by the campsite, but Bowles was ordered by Konrad to quarter in the palace as his <em>de facto<em> adjunct, saying something about misery loving company, and Alex was coaxed by Agnès to have dinner with the rest of the Musketeer Guards, and had not come back yet. Lugo and Gordon had gone off with a cask of wine to 'clear the air' as they called it, and had not returned.

Crosby had fallen asleep in his chair again. At least he thought he had fallen asleep, but then he saw the Weaver of Fate sitting on the side of the bed gazing at the pinkette.

**_"You care about her, don't you Robert Crosby?"_**

He nodded.

"She might talk a big game about being a snooty noble brat, but I know her better. There's a good person under that exterior."

He jerked a thumb over to Saito's sleeping form.

"And although she won't ever admit it, she cares about that kid. Even if she shows it by beating the crap out of him."

The Weaver put a slender hand to her mouth and giggled.

**_"Yes, that is true, their ways are not your ways. You care for her, because only you know what burdens she has to carry alone. And you know what that feels like. She is lucky to have a hero to protect her."_**

Crosby's smile disappeared from his face.

"Yeah, about that, what's up with putting her in all that danger, between the Reconquista and Tall, Red and Gruesome crashing the party at La Roche, that's not exactly what I would call a nice pattern in this tapestry."

The Weaver's face sobered.

**_"The path of the hero is fraught with its own perils. There are many patterns in this Tapestry, and unfortunately there is One from the Dark Realms who weaves His own patterns within this Tapestry."_**

Crosby looked up.

"What do you mean; you mean that dragon we encountered is a bad-guy from another realm?"

She shook her head sadly.

**_"No, regretfully Nahkriin, the red dragon of Vengeance, is but a minion of the Enemy. This Nahkriin was once a man from your world. Specifically he was one you knew by the name of Thomas Daniels."_**

The old sergeant looked shocked.

"You mean, Special Agent Daniels, the CIA spook we captured and interrogated?"

The Weaver nodded.

**_"He was a man who burned with the need for revenge, and had blinded himself with anger and hatred. He was already beyond my reach before the Enemy ensnared him, seduced him and remade him in His own twisted image. Your friend John McPherson was well on his way into His clutches before I rescued him, and gave him an opportunity to atone for his sins. The Enemy is most strong and determined."_**

"That would explain why he said 'Konrad'."

Crosby was almost afraid to ask the next question.

"W-who is this Enemy?"

**_"An ancient evil that existed in another world; Alduin, whose name means 'Devourer of Worlds' in his profane dragon tongue. He wishes entrance to this world so he can destroy it. In hundreds of different patterns I saw Him being awakened by the foolish threads within this tapestry, fools who think they can control His power. That is why I sent you here. This great Enemy is something far beyond the powers here. Even if the young one fulfills his destiny as Gandálfr, his powers will not be sufficient to defeat Him, should He awaken."_**

"But I am."

Another smile crept across the Weaver's face, and she stood off the bed and crouched next to his chair.

**_"Yes, you are. You are a good person, Robert Crosby, and I could see your potential. That is why I plucked you from that sand-swept hell you were confined in. Even there I could see you had the heart of a hero, and with that heart you will defeat the Enemy and earn the title."_**

She leaned in and kissed his forehead. In spite of his conscious slipped he couldn't help the quip.

"You really should stop that, Lady; people will talk about us being an item."

She giggled again.

**_"So let them talk! Remember your loyalty and faith in your friends do you credit, and remember as long as you make the decisions for good, you are a good person. There are difficult times on the horizon, but you will have interludes of laughter and happiness. Be sure to pause and enjoy those moments."_**

_ (AN: Well, there you have it, we've ended this arc on a high note, and demonstrating that even Colonel Konrad is not immune to the 'Unwanted Harem' trope. _

_We're gearing up for the next arc, which will be rated 'ES' for 'Extremely Silly' as it takes place in Tristain Academy of Magic. There have been some comments that Saito and Louise and co. have taken a back seat in this arc, and that is true. This one was primarily to develop and introduce the new _Spec Ops: The Line_ characters. I promise next arc will have more focus on the FOZ characters and the various hijinks they get into. _

_Now, I have to take about a week off to catch up on my _Familiar Of Zero_ research, and recharge the creative juices. That's not to say I may not get another chapter up in the meantime, but just a heads up so if you don't see me updating I haven't died or anything LOL. In the meantime I'll leave you with a quote that I think is appropriate for the story :)_

_"A man cannot become a hero until he can see the root of his own downfall."_

_— Aristotle_


	32. Close Combat Carnage

_(AN: So my flight was grounded due to the excessive snow that seems to be permeating the Northeast section of USA, and in the downtime I churned this chapter out. Over the week I came up with an idea for a twist on one of the hijinks that happens in FOZ and will occur in this arc. I hope you enjoy it. As previously stated this segment is rated 'ES' for extra silly.)_

Crosby opened his eyes, and saw the Weaver of Fate sitting on the side of the bed looking at him.

"This is all your fault, you know."

She gave him a coy smile.

**_"Why, Robert Crosby, what in the all the Celestial Empyrean do you mean by that?"_**

He glared at her and gestured to himself. He was an odd sight, a younger teen version of himself wearing a black military tee. He looked more like the foppish pretty boy Guiche, the thought rankled him.

"You know what I mean! You've emphasized to me that I am becoming the hero, since when does the hero of this tale turn into a teenaged heartthrob?"

The Weaver shook her head.

**_"As I told you, there are patterns within this Tapestry that I cannot control."_**

That caused Crosby to sit up in bed.

"I call bullshit! Now what's the gag? Is this an exercise in break the haughty soldier by turning him into a teen and having him get molested by a rampaging herd of hormonal chicks? Or is this a way for me to atone for my many sins in Dubai?"

She giggled and put a delicate finger to her lips.

**_"Not so loud, you'll wake your companion."_**

He glanced over to the other side of the bed where the busty redhead was snoring.

"Not likely, you could detonate a nuclear bomb in this room and she'd sleep through it."

He shook his head and lay back on the pillows.

"Could you at least tell me how I can turn back? I mean, I can't righteously slay the dragon if I'm a 90 lb teenager who can barely fire his weapon."

She shook her head.

**_"I cannot give you the means to reverse your condition. But have faith in your companions, and you will be made whole again."_**

She leaned in and kissed his forehead. In spite of himself Crosby smiled.

"You'll make Kirche jealous. Trust me; a jealous fire mage that can barely control her hormones or her abilities is not to be trifled with."

The Weaver giggled again as she stood up off the bed.

**_"Your current situation is not permanent; as I said, have faith in the abilities of your companions. I did tell you that there are difficult decisions on the horizon, in the meantime take advantage of the laughter and happiness."_**

As he drifted back to sleep Crosby thought back to how the hell he got into this situation. If someone had told him yesterday morning what was going to happen to him, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it.

* * *

><p>It was just yesterday morning that they had left the palace for Tristain Academy of Magic. Dawn had broke over Tristainia and promised a bright day with plenty of sun, perfect flying weather. In one of the larger courtyards of the royal palace a small group made their way to the improvised campsite and landing pad. The group was a mix of teenagers and soldiers. One of them spoke up.<p>

"You sure you don't want to come with us, sir?"

Lt. Gordon turned and looked at his NCO turned chevalier.

"I'm certain, sergeant. For one thing the colonel here needs all the help he can to get the Tristian military battle ready in the coming weeks."

He nodded over to the pink-haired girl, who was already yelling at her familiar.

"And what I'm told, the Tristain Academy of Magic is already pretty crowded as it is."

Crosby smiled

"Roger that, it's quite the madhouse."

"Speaking of which…"

Gordon reached into the bellows pocket of his ACU trousers and pulled out a large walkie-talkie radio. He handed it to Crosby.

"This radio should have enough range to reach Tristainia. If you need anything, including a lift from Bravo Six once you locate the 'Steel Dragon', give us a buzz. We're on channel twelve, standard IFF protocols apply."

As they approached the chopper Crosby noticed that Tebby and Bowles were performing last-minute preflight checks. He turned back to Gordon and saluted.

"Well, good luck sir, you're going to need it. And if you need any help drop a line."

Gordon returned the salute.

"Same to you, sergeant."

Lugo approached, looking a bit pale and green around the gills. The lieutenant grinned.

"What's the matter, sergeant? That barrel of wine not treating you well?"

The Delta Force sniper shook his head.

"Not so loud, sir. And it wasn't the first barrel that disagreed with me, it was the second and third."

Gordon continued to grin. The two of them had raided the royal wine cellar to 'clear the air' as Lugo called it, and within two hours had become the best of friends in true drunken fratboy fashion. Unfortunately it gave the Delta Force sergeant a rather massive hangover.

"Well, if you need to throw up, I'm sure I can get the royal cook to whip up a nice tall glass of warm curdled milk mixed with lard. You chug that baby down and you'll puke in no time."

Lugo winced.

"Please, sir, not now."

"C'mon sergeant, you can either upchuck now or on your flight to the Academy, and something tells me Cpl. Tebby won't like you doing that to his Little Bird."

Lugo shook his head and staggered towards the chopper. The lieutenant turned and left laughing, leaving the princess and their CO to see them off. Crosby saluted.

"Good luck with your prototypes, Colonel. What I said to Gordon applies here as well; if you need anything let us know."

Konrad smiled.

"Just keep an eye on Miss Vallière, and try to keep her from blowing her stack and blowing up half of Tristain in the process."

The princess turned to Louise, who genuflected with a start.

"I will pray to Brimir that you will be successful in your efforts to thwart the Reconquista, your highness!"

Henrietta smiled and gently pulled the pinkette to her feet, clasping her friend's hands in her own.

"Goodbye my dearest friend and best of luck on your exams. Please try to listen to Sir Crosby."

Louise smiled.

"I will! Goodbye, and please take care of yourself!"

Crosby approached and cleared his throat.

"Your Highness, by your leave. My lady, it's time."

The princess nodded and he helped Louise into the cabin of the Little Bird. Her familiar Saito, the blonde fop Guiche and Lugo followed suit. Crosby was the last to get in, and after Henrietta and Konrad retreated to a safe distance, he gave the thumbs up to the pilot.  
>The early morning stillness was broken by the sound of the Little Bird's engine powering up.<p>

_"Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Lt. Timothy Bowles, thank you for flying Tristainia Airlines; I'll be your pilot this morning. Federal regulations designate this as a "non-smoking" Little Bird chopper. For those of you who have the 'Helkeginia Frequent Flyer' program, you'll be earning double points on this flight, and for the pink-haired walking IED, the air sickness bags are located in the seat-back, in front of you. As for Sgt. Lugo, if you feel the need to toss your cookies, feel free to lean over the side and do so without getting any inside our craft, and try not to fall to your death. Thank you very much, and we'll be taking off shortly."_

Crosby shook his head and pointed his finger upwards at the lieutenant, signaling him all on board were secured and ready for takeoff. During the twenty minute flight back to the academy, he thought about his next mission parameters. They would have to locate this so-called 'Steel Dragon'; maybe some of the old literature in the library would have something on it. He scratched his forearm, ever since that talisman had burned a rune above his tattoo it itched, and he made a mental note to talk to Colbert about it.

As he saw the Tristain Academy of Magic loom in the distance ahead, he spoke into his radio.

"Take us in at the Wind Courtyard, lieutenant."

There was a hiss of static.

_"Roger that, just a quick question?"_

"Go ahead."

_"Which courtyard is the Wind Courtyard? And what the hell sort of name is that?"_

Crosby sighed.

"Each of those five courtyards are named after the five elements of magic, lieutenant. Don't you know anything?"

_"Sorry I asked sarge."_

"In case you're wondering, the Wind Courtyard is the one closest to us, and it's the one with the large crowd."

_"Roger that."_

The Little Bird hovered over the courtyard and slowly descended. When it touched down, Crosby jumped down and assisted the passengers with disembarking without getting decapitated by the blades. Over the roar of the engine and the blades cutting through the air he heard a _kyaaa_, which was impressive. He saw something fly past him at high speed and collide with Lugo.

"Oh, John Lugo! I'm so so so happy that you're back!"

Crosby smiled as he watched the Delta Force sniper reunite with Siesta. When Louise, Saito and Guiche disembarked, he gave the thumbs-up to Bowles and the chopper lifted off.

He noted that the fop was reuniting with his girlfriend with the blonde ringlets in her hair. He looked up and watched the Little Bird ascend, he then saw something else in the sky and took a large step back. And a busty redhead face-planted on the spot where the Zulu Squad sergeant was just standing. Apparently she could also fly.

"Oooh! My old war horse has returned!"

Kirche had picked herself up and dusted herself off, and was now running towards Crosby at full tilt. He sidestepped her and the redhead collided with Saito. Since it effectively wedged the teenager's face into Kirche's ample bosom, he didn't seem to mind.

"Stupid perverted dog of a familiar!"

Louise, on the other hand, did mind. Crosby shook his head and looked through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the teacher Colbert.

"Tabitha?"

The blue haired girl looked up from her book.

"Yes, Sir Crosby?"

"Where is Mr. Colbert?"

She looked back down into her book. It must have been a fascinating read, judging by how often he found her with her nose stuck in it.

"Mr. Colbert is in a conference with Osmond."

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that."

He looked over to Lugo, who was still being bear-hugged by Siesta.

"Sergeant Lugo, when you have finished canoodling with your girlfriend, would you kindly accompany me to debrief Osmond on the mission update?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant heard another yelp of pain and saw the pinkette beating Saito with another riding crop. He rolled his eyes.

"And would someone please calm Louise down?"

* * *

><p>Colbert stared for a long time at the rune on Crosby's forearm.<p>

"This is most unusual, it bears a similarity to the Gandálfr rune on Louise's familiar, but I have never seen one like it."

He examined the talisman.

"And you are sure that this amulet is responsible for you receiving this rune?"

Crosby nodded.

"As soon as I unwrapped it and examined it, I felt a burning sensation on my arm, and when I rolled up my sleeve, there was the rune. They have to be connected."

Colbert looked back at the amulet.

"This talisman or amulet is Romalian and very old, I may have to inquire with one of my contacts within Pope Vittorio's court to find out more."

He handed the amulet back to Crosby, and looked over to Louise.

"I am glad you returned safely Miss Vallière, Professor Chevreuse was missing you while you were away."

The pinkette looked startled, as if she had just remembered something.

"Oh, goodness! I'm going to be late for her class!"

Lugo grinned as he watched the pink-haired teen rush out the door with Saito in tow.

"Gonna follow our pink-haired walking IED to make sure she doesn't blow up half the school?"

Crosby returned the grin.

"Yeah, I guess I'd better. At least when she's in class I can keep an eye on her. Want to come with?"

Lugo chuckled.

"Negative. I've got some catching up to do with my lady friend, if you know what I mean."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Fair enough, sergeant. I'll see you at chow time."

He caught up with Louise and Saito just as they were entering the Earth Tower. As he followed the students filing into the large classroom the professor caught his attention.

"Ah, Sir Crosby! Welcome to my classroom! Have you come to learn about Earth magic?"

He shrugged.

"As much as anything ma'am I just wanted to keep an eye on Louise. But learning how you guys wield magic can't hurt."

He made his way to the back of the classroom where Louise and Saito were seated. The professor clapped her hands to get the student's attention.

"Alright now class, settle in and give me your best attention!"

Crosby leaned against the wall and listened as Chevreuse lectured the students about the importance of the Earth elemental magic. It was quite fascinating to hear her talk about it. Even more fascinating was watching her take a pebble and put it on the desk, and with a wave of her wand, turning it into a shiny metal. He smiled to himself, thinking that there were people in the commodity trade that would pay handsomely to learn that skillset. His musings were interrupted when the professor called Louise's name.

"Miss Vallière, will you demonstrate the Transmutation spell for the class?"

Crosby noticed that Louise had been jolted awake.

"Er, Professor Chevreuse, I-I…"

Kirche interrupted.

"Professor, don't let Louise the Zero perform the spell, she'll blow up this room!"

The pinkette turned and glared at the redhead.

"That last time was unfair! I was unprepared!"

She turned back to the teacher.

"Professor Chevreuse, I accept!"

The professor seemed uncomfortable as Louise approached her desk, where the pebbles were gathered in a heap.

"Erm, Miss Vallière, would you mind not performing the spell on my desk?"

Crosby spoke up.

"Ma'am, I think I have a solution."

He made his way to the front of the class and picked one of the pebbles up and placing it in the palm of his gloved hand. He turned back to the pinkette.

"Okay, my lady, just do exactly what Professor Chevreuse did, and turn this pebble into a shiny metal object."

"Ah, Sir Crosby," Chevreuse asked, "Are you sure that is wise?"

He looked up at the professor.

"Ma'am, with respect, I'm wearing body armor that can stop multiple direct hits from high-caliber weapons from my world. I think it can stop a blast if the spell goes wrong."

He turned back to Louise, who was still hesitating.

"It's okay, Louise, you can do this. What's the worst that could happen? I get my eyebrows singed?"

In spite of his words he did pull his baklava up and pull down his goggles over his eyes. No sense in taking chances. He noticed that Tabitha left the classroom, and Kirche and Saito were crouching under desks. A small part of him questioned the wisdom of volunteering, but after the pep talk he gave the pinkette he didn't feel like backing away.

Louise took a deep breath, and recited the incantation of transmutation.

There was a deafening explosion that knocked the pinkette on her backside. When the smoke cleared she saw Chevreuse out cold and twitching on the floor. And no sign of her bodyguard.

Crosby's ears were still ringing from the blast. He made a mental note to trust his gut and not step into the line of fire like that again. He felt like someone had slammed him in the stomach with a bag of cement. He pushed his goggles back and coughed, trying to get his bearings. Apparently the blast had sent him through the wall of the classroom and into a student washroom, if the fragments of the mirror were any indication. He noticed not without humor that he had left a hole in the wall that approximated his own silhouette. He could hear a commotion from the classroom, along with Louise's voice calling out to him.

"I'm okay! I'm okay!"

His voice sounded hoarse and off, but it could also have been the ringing in his ears. Louise stuck her head through the hole in the wall, he could see Saito and Tabitha were behind her. The pinkette had started to apologize, but froze, and she was looking at him in the oddest way, as if he had grown a second head.

"What's the matter?"

Saito was looking at him too, and he was the first to speak.

"Crosby-san, have you looked in a mirror yet?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant panicked, did Louise turn his nose green or give him a wart? He grabbed a shard of the mirror off the floor and almost dropped it. It was his face, but not a face he had seen for a long time. His scars were gone, his eyes were larger, more like the locals. He was, for lack of a better word, young again. His mind was reeling from this shock when another voice spoke up.

"Aaah! My old war horse is now a young handsome war horse! Come to me, Sir Crosby!"

"Oh crap."

Quickly he scrabbled to his feet and slipped out the bathroom door before Kirche could get through the opening. Apparently her and Louise were fighting about something. His clumsy running was being hampered by his submachine gun dangling now around his waist, then his helmet slipped down over his eyes and he collided with someone.

"Why don't you watch where you're-oh?"

Montmorency stopped her angry scolding to stare at the teenager in the odd clothes. He was very handsome with short dark brown hair and beautiful blue-grey eyes.

Crosby wrenched his helmet off so he could see where he was going, and pulled himself up, noticing that the blonde girlfriend of Guiche was staring at him and doing that eye shimmer thingie. He shook his head. The blonde girl turned her head at the sound of loud squabbling in the hall, while she was distracted Crosby quickly rounded a corner and gathered his thoughts. He would need to find a hiding place, stat. He looked up and had an idea.

* * *

><p>It was nearly dark when Crosby decided to come out of his improvised hiding place in the rafters. He gingerly climbed down one of the pillars and hopped to the ground. There was no sign of any students or faculty. Good. He flipped on his radio.<p>

"This is Iceman calling Delta Three, do you copy?"

There was a pause before he heard the static-laced voice of the Delta sniper.

_"Hey, hey, the Zulu Squad sergeant lives! Where are you at, sarge?"_

"Until just now, hiding. I need you to meet me in the kitchen where we can formulate some sort of plan. See if you can get in contact with Colbert or Osmond, and see if they can find a way to reverse the spell. Got it?"

_"Roger that, sarge. You shouldn't in such a toot to change back, with your newfound youth you've become very popular with the ladies, if the servant chatter is anything to go off of."_

Crosby sighed.

"Duly noted, sergeant, but I'm going to be breaking a lot of hearts tonight. Meet me at the kitchen in five. Iceman out."

He switched his radio off and felt something trip him, he stumbled and fell on his back. He saw a familiar looking fiery red lizard staring at him intently.

"Well, what do you want?"

As if to respond Flame the fire salamander grabbed him by his booted foot and dragged him away. It took Crosby only seconds to figure out where Flame was taking him.

"Oh no, no you don't! Let go of me, you stupid oversized iguana! I swear if you don't stop and let go of me pronto I'm going to turn you into a pair of cowboy boots! Leggo!"

* * *

><p>This brought him back to his current state, trapped in Kirche's bedroom after a long evening of trying to rebuff her amorous advances. He checked his watch, 06:13. Gingerly he slid out of bed so as not to wake the bed's other occupant and pulled on his black trousers and laced up his boots. Fortunately his feet hadn't grown much since he was a teen, and cinching his belt tighter kept his utes from falling down. He glanced over to Flame. The redhead's fire salamander was still sound asleep, like his mistress. Crosby gathered up his armor and weapons into a bundle and tip-toed out of the room. Once in the hallway he made his way downstairs towards the kitchen.<p>

"Hey, Chef Marteau, you still have that crate?"

"Ah, it is Sir Crosby again! I almost didn't recognize you, yes here it is."

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"You knew about Louise's little mishap in class yesterday?"

"Why yes, it is all over the school!"

He clapped Crosby on the back, almost causing the Zulu Squad sergeant turned teen to stagger.

"Thanks, is Lugo up yet?"

"Yes, he got up some time ago and was running around in the Earth Courtyard for some reason. Pea-Tea, he called it."

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that, thanks for your help."

He stuffed all his gear into the crate and carried it out into the dining room. The hall was already filling up with students and Crosby saw a familiar face coming back in.

"Sergeant Lugo!"

The Delta sniper looked his way and grinned.

"Hey, sarge! So, Tabitha told me she saw you being dragged off by Flame last night, did you get some action last night?"

Crosby gave him a flat look.

"If by action you mean having to rebuff the advances of a hormonal redhead, then yes."

Lugo apparently wasn't going to be deterred.

"C'mon sarge, dish up! What was it like?"

"It was like playing paddy cake with an octopus, an octopus with double D cup breasts. Not my idea of fun. I need you to do something for me."

He handed Lugo a crate containing his armor and weapons.

"Here, I need you to secure my gear. Until the spell is reversed I can't let this fall into the wrong hands."

He reached down and pulled the Desert Eagle out of his thigh-holster and handed it to the Delta sniper.

"Also, get Bowles on the horn and see if they have a spare Pals Vest or body armor. Mine isn't going to fit and if we have to be in combat I don't want to be left with my ass hanging in the breeze."

Lugo nodded, and grinned.

"So, what do I call you now that you're a kid? Robert, or Bobby?"

Crosby glared at him.

"You'll call me sarge, Sgt. Crosby or just Crosby. If you try any of that nickname bullshit I'll plant my boot so far up your ass you'll be blowing bootlaces out your nose for a week!"

Lugo snickered.

"Wow, do you kiss your mother with that mouth, kid?"

Crosby was about to retort when Louise ran up and grabbed him by the elbow.

"Ah, there you are, Sir Bodyguard Crosby. Come, and join me for breakfast!"

Kirche appeared seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed Crosby's other arm.

"Perish the thought; my handsome war horse is joining me for breakfast."

Louise glared at the redhead, and jerked Crosby by the elbow closer to her.

"He's my bodyguard; he's eating at my table!"

Kirche chuckled and pulled Crosby closer to her.

"But he spent the night with me, so he should eat at my table!"

The pinkette tugged on his elbow.

"The only reason he spent the night in your room is because your stupid fire lizard dragged him there and you suffocated him with your oversized breasts!"

"Hmph! You're just jealous that he doesn't like flat-chested girls."

Crosby knew now what a rope in a tug of war game felt like. He saw the veins pop in the pinkette's forehead and knew what was coming next. He looked over to Lugo, who was watching the scene unfold with undisguised glee.

"On second thought, sergeant, I changed my mind. Hand me back my Desert Eagle, I think I'll have a .50 caliber bullet for breakfast."

_(AN: Okay, so I really am a little stinker for doing that to Sgt. Crosby. But, as the Bard says, the only way for a character to grow and develop is to move outside his comfort zone, and nothing will move our Zulu Squad sergeant outside his comfort zone like a bit of baleful polymorph and an unwanted harem LOL. There will be no lemons in this arc, mostly because I suck at writing lemon fic and it doesn't really mesh with the story. Don't worry, Crosby will be back to his old self again, but now you know why this arc is rated 'ES'.)_


	33. A Man of Action

_ (AN: Crap. I hate getting sick right after traveling. Gets me behind on everything, including this story. I was hoping to have this chapter done by the weekend, and just now barely finished it. We're going to have to play it by ear for the next chapter, depends on how better I feel as the week progresses and how the workload is._

_On a brighter note, now Sgt. Crosby is having to adjust again, and now he knows how poor Saito feels. All joking aside, in reviewing the earlier chapters the dynamic between Crosby and the denizens of the Tristain Academy of Magic is a bit lopsided, given that he is taller, older and stronger physically than any of students. So it's easy for him to rebuff the advances of Kirche, to ignore Louise hitting him, etc., and to inject some more comedy I thought this would be fun. Enjoy!)_

"C'mon sarge, you can't stay in your room forever."

"Watch me, Lugo. Until Osmond or Colbert can find a way to reverse the spell I am not going anywhere."

The day before Sgt. Crosby had, thanks to Louise's botched transmutation spell, been turned into a pretty-boy teenaged version of himself. Since then he had to rebuff the advances of just about every unattached female on the school grounds. And even some attached ones. He had endured being kidnapped by Flame and being hauled over to Kirche's room. The final straw was at breakfast time, when the Louise and Kirche were fighting over whose table he was going eat at. In the ensuing chaos Crosby had snuck off and barricaded himself in his room.

"Sir Crosby! I order you to exit your room this instant!"

Lugo looked down at the pink haired girl as she stamped her foot indignantly.

"Pinkie, you're not helping. Just let me handle this and whatever happens don't spook him."

She huffed, but said nothing. Lugo turned back to the door, and was about to say something when he heard the sound of something scraping on the other side, as if some large furniture was being scooted across the floor. Then, to his surprise, the door opened, and Crosby came through the door and locked it. He had a look of panic on his face.

"What changed your mind, sarge?"

"Kirche did. Apparently she enlisted the help of Tabitha and her damned dragon and managed to park herself outside my window."

As if on cue there was a knock on the door.

"Oh Sir Crosby! You've locked me in your room, you naughty handsome war horse! Come and unlock the door!"

"Fat chance." Crosby muttered. He nodded to Lugo.

"Come on, let's go find Colbert and see what we can do to fix this clusterfuck."

They exited the dorm area and made their way to the main hallway to the center tower. As they approached the library Crosby noticed that Louise was alone.

"Where's Saito?" Crosby asked.

She shrugged.

"Washing my clothes, he was being disobedient and perverted yesterday evening, so I punished him."

Crosby stopped in the hallway.

"My lady, you really need to eighty-six the abuse on Saito. I've said this before, it's not cool and-"

He paused and noticed that the pinkette didn't appear to be listening to him; she was staring at him intently with shimmering eyes. He shook his head. Crap, not her too, he thought. He snapped his fingers.

"Mission control to Louise, snap out of it! You'll make your boyfriend jealous."

That snapped her out of her dreamy stupor, but it also appeared to make her angry. She glared at Crosby.

"Stupid Bodyguard!"

She proceeded to hit him with her riding crop, and this time it hurt.

"Ow! Stop that you little brat!"

He snatched the crop out of her hand and threw it out the window.

"Knock that off! There will be no hitting of your bodyguard! Got it?"

She folded her arms and pouted, but at least she stopped trying to hit him. They continued into the Library, and found Colbert pouring over some very old grimoires and books. The professor looked up.

"Ah, Sir Crosby, I had heard from Mr. Lugo that you had a rather unfortunate little accident yesterday in Professor Chevreuse's Transmutation class."

Crosby shrugged.

"How little of an accident it was depends on how easy it is to change me back. Please tell me there's a potion in the medicine cabinet to cure this."

Colbert shook his head.

"I'm very sorry, Sir Crosby, but this is a bit unprecedented. Normally this sort of transformation would not even be possible, especially not by a student. For Miss Vallière to even pull off a spell like this is amazing."

"Amazing isn't the word I'd use, try damned inconvenient, sir. All I want to know is how can I get turned back and get rid of this unwanted harem."

Colbert stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"There might be a spell to reverse it, I will have to consult with Osmond. In the meantime I would suggest not getting hit by any more spells, as I don't know what the side effects might be."

Crosby watched as the professor left, then sat down on one of the chairs and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Great. Just fucking great. Stuck as a teenager for the foreseeable future. How can this day get any worse?"

As if on cue he felt someone wrapping arms around his neck and for a moment his entire world went dark. He could tell by the cloying lavender perfume that the fire mage Kirche had caught up to him.

"Oh! There you are, my lovely handsome war horse!"

He struggled to get free, but Kirche was apparently pretty strong. Or he was apparently much weaker in his younger form. Either way it was clear he would need help. He called out, his voice sounding muffled.

"A little help would be appreciated, Lugo."

He could hear the Delta sniper laugh.

"Sorry sarge, you're on your own."

"Sergeant Lugo, I order you to intervene and get me the hell out of Miss Kirche's cleavage."

"With all due respect sarge, I'm not getting in the middle of this catfight. Not without reinforcements, but I'll be back."

Crosby managed to pry both of Kirche's arms off his neck and dislodged himself long enough to get air and glare at Lugo's retreating form.

"Wait! Come back, Lugo!"

And his face was promptly wedged back into the marshmallow hell of Kirche's bosom. He could feel tiny fists beating his shoulders.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby! Stop acting like a pervert! I order you to get out of there!"

He gritted his teeth, and with a considerable amount of effort pulled his face out again.

"With respect, my lady, I can't. If you don't like your bodyguard being in this compromising position, then help. But whatever you do STOP HITTING ME!"

Louise snorted.

"Humph! Very well, if you wish to stay with Kirche I won't stop you."

She turned to leave. Crosby was getting desperate, his arms were getting tired and he started to feel faint from the lack of oxygen. He called out to her.

"Look, will you stop being so jealous of your friend's breasts? Just because you're flat doesn't mean you should take it out on the rest of the population."

That did it, Louise turned back around and had a murderous look on her face.

* * *

><p>With the help of Siesta the Delta sniper had located Saito in the middle of washing the pinkette's blouse.<p>

"Hey, kid, Sgt. Crosby's currently being manhandled by Kirche, and Louise and her are about to go toe to toe over him. I need backup on this one."

Before Saito could speak his sword, leaning against the wall, spoke up in McPherson's voice.

"What? Sgt. Crosby is getting some action? Not the stuck-up-by-the-book sergeant that headed up our counterinsurgency cadre?"

Lugo grinned.

"Yep, the same. Apparently you weren't there when Louise the Zero turned him into a teen."

The sword spoke again, this time in Derflinger's voice.

"Whoa, you mean the gruff ol' sarge is a teenager? This I gotta see."

Saito shook out the blouse and hung it up to dry.

"Well, as much as it's funny to see Crosby-san getting glomped, I'll help you. Siesta, can you finish the rest of the laundry?"

The maid nodded.

"So, where is Crosby-san at?"

A loud explosion rocked the building and knocked all three of them off their feet. Lugo was the first to pull himself up, helping Siesta and then Saito off the floor. He noticed bits of plaster and dust wafted down from the ceiling.

"Oh crap, we might be too late. That sounded like it came from the Library. Come on let hurry before Louise blows up the rest of the school."

_(AN: This chapter was a lot shorter than I wanted it to be, but it was killing me to have this sitting in the doc file and not finishing it. I hope there aren't too many plot holes or grammatical errors. Hopefully the next chapter, aptly titled A Man of Patience, will be up by the end of the week.)_


	34. A Man of Patience

_(AN: So, feeling better and churned out this next chapter, more hilarity ensues. Enjoy!)_

Crosby crawled out of the ruins that was until recently a bookcase and groaned. He hurt all over. He hadn't felt this battered since Dubai. At least under the cover of smoke he couldn't see Louise or Kirche, which meant they couldn't see him. Suddenly he heard Lugo's voice.

"Holy crap on a cracker! Pinkie what the hell did you do, detonate an MOAB? Hey sarge! Where are you?"

"Over here."

Crosby coughed and pushed the last tattered book off his chest. He saw the Delta sniper make his way through the wreckage, coughing and waving away the smoke. He held out a hand.

Are you all right?"

"Barely, I think that pink-haired brat cracked a rib."

Crosby rasped as he accepted the hand and pulled himself up. He flinched as he saw Kirche running towards him.

"Ooh! Is my poor handsome war horse hurt?"

Lugo held out a hand to forestall the red-headed fire mage.

"Ah, why don't you give Sir Crosby some space, he's pretty banged up."

Crosby reached into his bellows pocket of his utes and pulled out his radio. Thankfully it had not been damaged in the pinkette's latest outburst.

"If this encounter has proven anything, it's that I need body armor, stat. I have the IFF protocols, get Bowles on the horn."

When the two soldiers made their way out of the ruined library and into the Earth courtyard, Lugo switched on the radio.

"Bravo Six this is Delta Three, IFF authentication is Romeo Foxtrot, Romeo Charlie Four, Zero, Fife, Two, how copy?"

There was a pause, and Lugo repeated his message. Then after about three minutes Bowles' voice came through the static.

_"Delta Three this is Bravo Six, we confirm IFF authentication, quick question, why are you on the horn and not Iceman?"_

Lugo looked over to Crosby and grinned. The Zulu Squad sergeant turned teen shook his head.

"Ah, Bravo Six, it's a long story, but if you have a spare PALS Vest or body armor we need to requisition it."

Bowles' voice chuckled.

_"Roger that, well I think we have a spare vest. We're currently situated at an inn call the Charming Fairies Inn, it's roughly twenty klicks from the academy."_

The Delta sniper looked over to Crosby, who nodded, he keyed the talk mic.

"Roger that Bravo Six, we will RV with you at the Charming Fairies. Delta Three out."

Lugo switched off the radio and handed Crosby. He noticed Guiche was making his way towards them, with Saito hot on his heels and the blonde girl Montmorency in tow. Saito looked out of breath as if he had been trying to speak and run at the same time, but before either he or Crosby could speak the blonde fop brandished his rose wand and spoke.

"Sir Crosby! It has come to my attention that my beloved MonMon has expressed desires towards you, and I cannot let this stand. I respect you greatly as a fellow noble, but my honor demands satisfaction."

Crosby glared at him.

"Kid, I'm in no mood for jokes. I've almost been suffocated by that crazy redhead Zerbst and almost blown to bits by Louise. So I'm giving you some friendly advice. Scram."

Guiche started to retort but was interrupted by his girlfriend.

"Guiche, you idiot! I just said that Sir Crosby had lovely eyes! And what is it to you, if I find another boy attractive? Haven't I caught you on several occasions lusting after other girls?"

The sergeant turned teen growled and pushed past the fop and his girlfriend.

"I don't have time for this shit, I'm outta here."

Guiche grabbed his shoulder to stop him, but didn't get far. Crosby rounded on him and sent a cross-punch right in the fop's face, sending him flying back with a black eye. Crosby glared as he watched Guiche mewling in pain and cradling his face, while his girlfriend alternated between fussing over his injury and fussing at him for starting a fight. Crosby shook his head. He nodded at Saito.

"Did you get a chance to speak with Osmond? Please tell me that old goat has a cure on the ready."

The teen shook his head.

"I'm sorry Crosby-san, he was as baffled as Professor Colbert. They were both pouring over old texts and seemed more interested in finding out about your rune."

"Well, it was a fool's hope to think I'd be that lucky. Lugo, Saito, you're with me. Let's get RV with Bravo Six and assess the situation. If nothing else I need a breather from all this insanity."

* * *

><p>The trio requisitioned horses from the school's stables and soon they were underway. As they rode on Crosby found himself massaging the knuckles on his right hand, they were bright red and swollen.<p>

"Crap I didn't hit the kid that hard, it shouldn't have hurt that bad."

His musings were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"So, Sergeant Crosby, how does it feel to be 15 again?"

He turned and glared at the sword slung on Saito's back.

"With all due respect, sir, it sucks balls. I'm shorter, weaker and have slower reflexes."

The voice of McPherson chuckled.

"Not to mention younger, with a facelift and more handsome to boot. You should have heard that blonde chick Montmorency gushing over you to her idiot boyfriend. How did she put it?"

A second voice interrupted.

"Hooo boooy she was laying it on thick with a trowel, she was all like 'Oooh, he is so handsome and beautiful, and his eyes are like the stormy waters of Radgorian Lake!'"

Crosby rolled his eyes.

"Derflinger, I put up with the crap from McPherson because technically even as a sword he outranks me, you on the other hand can stuff it."

Lugo joined in.

"Well sarge, now you don't have an excuse of being older than all the girls at the Academy. Personally if it was me I would be taking full advantage of that."

Crosby glared at the Delta Sniper.

"And why don't you, if it's such a wonderful idea?"

Lugo laughed.

"Sorry sarge, I'm spoken for, and there's only just enough Lugo for one little gal, and Siesta is that gal."

It was almost noon before they reached the inn; and it was the place, if the battered Little Bird parked out back was any indication. Crosby nodded.

"This looks like the place. Alright let's go in and hopefully get some moments of peace."

He was the first to dismount, and opened the door to the tavern. He had not taken three stepped when he was tackled by two giggling girls in barmaid outfits, one blonde and one with chestnut colored hair, both squealing over him and covering him with pecks and kisses. He could see Lt. Bowles push away from the bar and smirk at him.

"Looks like Marlène and Jeanne found a new playmate. They were so heartbroken when they heard that 'Joe the Sniper' didn't come back with us."

Crosby tried to push the blonde off him so he could sit up.

"Lieutenant Bowles, as funny as you find this, would you kindly get these two giggling brats off me?"

The lieutenant's eyes widened, and he let out a whistle.

"Holy fountain of youth Batman! What the hell happened to you, sarge?"

* * *

><p>Montmorency finished her luncheon early and left the dining hall, noticing Louise the Zero being scolded by Professor Colbert, probably about her outburst in the library. She also noticed Kirche Zerbst sitting at a table with the little bookworm Tabitha, the redhead was groaning theatrically about missing her 'handsome war horse'. The blonde shook her head, the elaborate ringlets in her hair shaking in sympathy with her head. As she entered the hallway leading towards the dorm she saw a cloaked figure hiding in one of the alcoves. This was the person she was wanted to intercept. She approached and spoke in a hushed whisper.<p>

"Do you have it?"

The cloaked figure nodded.

"Do you have coin, my lady?"

She nodded and pulled out a small leather purse of money.

"Here, 300 écus, as you requested."

She tossed it to the figure, who caught the purse deftly with one gloved hand. The other hand withdrew from the cloak's folds and produced a small ornate potion bottle, and very gingerly handed it to the blonde girl.

"I need not warn you of how illegal it is to possess such substances, my lady."

She snorted in an unladylike fashion.

"I care not for the risks, I care only if this will be effective."

"It will, but beware of the consequences."

Montmorency looked down at the phial with undisguised glee, but when she looked up, the figure was gone. She shrugged. One way or another she, Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency, would not let him slip through her grasp.

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUUN! And the humiliation conga line continues with poor Sgt. Crosby. I'm afraid he's not going to get the breaks he was hoping for. And for those of you familiar (no pun intended) with the anime/manga series you know what's coming up next, only this time it's getting cranked up to eleven. Those of you who aren't, well, you're in for some real fireworks. Next chapter should be up by the weekend, and it's aptly called Aim High.)_


	35. In Your Face

_(AN: Oookaaay, couple of quick points. First I've finally gotten the seasons of FOZ and have been catching up on my watching, and it's amazing how much the anime deviates in certain places from the novels. I pictured the Charming Fairies Inn to be one of these country taverns, when in the anime it's actually in town. So I'm going to do a bit of hand-waving here and have the Charming Fairies in the country, specifically halfway between the school and Tristainia._

_*magician comes on stage and waves his gloved hands in a dramatic fashion*_

_There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Second, remember when I said the next chapter was called Aim High? Well, I kinda lied. Actually I was having so much fun humiliating poor Sgt. Crosby I decided to stretch this arc out a bit more, and add an extra chapter. Beware, if ye be scared of shipping and fourth wall abuse, then these be the last friendly words ye'll hear.)_

Crosby sat at the bar with Lugo and Saito, with his fellow soldier Lt. Bowles smirking.

"So, sarge, you've turned into quite the ladies' man since your little change-up."

The sword on Saito's back spoke up in McPherson's voice.

"Lieutenant you don't know the half of it. From what I've heard every girl in the academy unattached and even attached have a hard-on for him."

Bowles snickered.

"I should get Tebby in here so he can see."

"Where is he?"

The lieutenant nodded towards the back door.

"He's out back working on the `Bird. I swear that corporal spends more time working on the chopper than anything else. Guy should have been a grease monkey in another life."

Their conversation was interrupted when a brunette barmaid with a kerchief in her hair arrived with their tankards of beer. She smiled at the lieutenant and nodded over to Crosby.

"Who is the young man?"

"That, dear Jessica, is Sergeant Robert Crosby. He was my squadron commander back in Dubai."

Her eyes widened.

"B-but he's just a boy?"

Crosby spoke up.

"Ma'am, with respect, I'm older than I look. One of the witches at the Tristain Academy of Magic botched a transmutation spell and turned me into a younger version of myself."

Jessica looked thoughtful.

"The Tristain Academy of Magic? I have a cousin that works there. Maybe you've met her, her name is Siesta."

Lugo choked on some of his ale at that comment. Crosby shook his head.

"Yes ma'am. Siesta is a good friend of ours; it's nice to know she has a cousin."

The maid smiled at the compliment and left them to their ale. Lugo looked over where the two younger barmaids were.

"So, Alex decided to stay behind, huh."

Tebby nodded.

"Yep, ostensibly it was to help out Gordon and the colonel with their gun R&D, but I suspect that knight gal Agnès might have something to do with it. Personally I'm just happy the kid has opened up."

Lugo took another sip from his tankard.

"I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that he's Captain Walker's younger brother. I mean, Walker never told us he even had a brother, let alone that he was with the 33rd."

Bowles shook his head.

"Well, hardly any of us knew, the only ranking officer that knew of the connection was Lt. Gordon, and after the mutiny everything got kind of scrambled up."

He was interrupted by the chestnut-haired maid, Jeanne who shyly whispered something in Bowles' ear. He nodded and gestured over towards Crosby.

"What was that all about?"

Bowles shrugged.

"Oh, nothing. Marlène wanted to put on some of our music and Jeanne wanted a dance partner."

Before Crosby could say anything the maid ran over to him and grabbed both his hands, pulling him to the center of the tavern. Lugo noticed that the blonde maid had pulled out a battered hot pink boom box and placed it on the bar. When she pushed the play button loud pop music blared from its speakers. Lugo spoke up over the din as he watched the blonde dance with Crosby.

"I'm curious to know how a three man chopper chalk came to possess a pink boom box with Lady Gaga tunes."

"Well, after the botched evac and the mutiny my platoon's morale was kind of low, so I asked Sgt. Connors to keep an eye out for any CD players or tape decks the next time he was out on a supply run. I'm guessing it belonged to some Emirati teenager."

Lugo finished his ale and grinned.

"Wow, that's weird."

"If you think that's weird you should have seen my platoon in the mornings. Picture a group of twenty soldiers doing PT to Japanese pop music."

Lugo looked over to where the Zulu Squad sergeant turned teen was, and saw that Marlène had joined in and was trying to steal Jeanne's dance partner. He checked his watch.

"Well, as amusing as it is to see the sarge getting humiliated on the dance floor, we really should get back to the school. Pinkie is going to miss her familiar, and Kirche will be missing her war horse."

Bowles signaled to Scarron, who shut off the music, much to the dismay of the two barmaids. They further pouted when Bowles pried Crosby away from them so he could try on the body armor.

"Well," asked Bowles, "how is it?"

Crosby tightened the last Velcro strap on this vest.

"Well, it stinks of old sweat and stale beer, and I feel the grit of sand on the inside, but it'll do."

The lieutenant nodded.

"Well, Alex never had much use for his body armor when he was in the sniper cadre, so I don't see any harm in letting you have it."

The trio said goodbye to Bowles, and with his and Lugo's help were able to disentangle Crosby from Marlène and Jeanne, who clearly didn't want him to leave. For all the humiliation he seemed in good spirits, and while they were trotting back to the Academy he turned to Saito.

"Saito, quick question."

"Sure, Crosby-san, what is it?"

"Didn't you tell me that back in Japan there are entire cartoons and comic books that revolve around a guy being surrounded by beautiful women that fight over him and want to make babies ever after with him?"

Saito nodded.

"It's true, it's called the Harem genre, and it was very popular a few years ago."

Crosby shook his head.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm in one, kid. But if this happened in one of those stories I'd call it overkill and say the author has issues."

McPherson's voice spoke up.

"Try being stuck in a sword, sergeant. This whole place is nuts."

Lugo grinned.

"Well, I for one am not complaining, if this was one of those stories I'm buying the guy who wrote it a beer."

It was almost dusk when the trio arrived back in the school, Saito left to go check on Louise, which left Lugo and Crosby in the kitchen getting an early supper. When he finished Crosby nodded to the chef.

"Say, chef Marteaux, do you still have that cauldron?"

Lugo grinned.

"Kinda tempting fate there, you sure that's wise, sarge?"

Crosby shook his head.

"The Wind courtyard is nice and isolated this time at night, so I should be fine. If any of the girls ask I'm barricaded in my room."

"And Kirche?"

"Especially Kirche. Come to think of it, you might tell her I'm spending the night at the Charming Fairies Inn."

"Roger that, sarge." Lugo looked up and saw Siesta waving at him.

"Well I have my cue to leave, so have a good night, and don't let the redheads bite."

Crosby rolled his eyes.

"That will be all, sergeant."

* * *

><p>The hot bath felt even better than the last time he took one. Maybe it was the combination of a long day and a fine dinner that made the bath feel so good. Crosby leaned back and rested his head against the lip of the cauldron.<p>

When he looked up he saw the Weaver smiling at him, she had one arm on the lip of the cauldron and was resting her chin in the crook of her elbow.

"I must have dozed off, if you're here."

She giggled.

**_"You didn't get much sleep last night."_**

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to sleep when you're fending off the advances of a hormonal redhead. Speaking of which, any chance you could help?"

She shook her head.

**_"I told you, Robert Crosby, there are things within the Tapestry which I cannot control. Only Ǣsbiǫrn has absolute control over everything."_**

"Who?"

**_"Ǣsbiǫrn is the master of all within this Tapestry, from the Celestial Empyrean to the Dark Realms."_**

"So, this guy is some kind of god?"

**_"Ǣsbiǫrn is not a god. Ǣsbiǫrn simply is. Nor is He unique. There are many like Him who create other different tapestries and patterns. It was He who created this Tapestry; all patterns in the Tapestry are subject to His whims. It was He who brought Alduin to the Dark Realms and allowed him to corrupt the patterns here."_**

"He doesn't sounds like a very nice fellow."

**_"He is a very mercurial being, to some He is warm and kind, to some cruel and capricious, and sometimes He is a comical trickster who sees the Tapestry as His stage and the patterns His actors. He even had a hand in the patterns of your old life." _**

"Yeah, well if you see him tell him I owe him an asswhipping for turning me into a kid. And the unwanted harem."

**_"Patience, Robert Crosby. The hero of a tale is above everything else patient and kind. I cannot release you from this curse, but I can give you the means to release its hold on you. Speak to your companions who are of this world and ask them about the Nøkk, it will hold the key to breaking your curse."_**

"Okay, that's a start at least. Thanks, I appreciate it."

She leaned in to kiss his forehead. He smiled.

"Careful, you might fall in and get your dress wet."

She giggled again.

**_"But then at least you'd have company. Continue on your path, Robert Crosby, you will find what you seek. And take advantage of the laughter in the coming days, for it will not always be this bright."_**

He woken up spluttering, apparently he slipped under the water in his sleep. As he cleared the water out of his eyes he noticed Louise was standing right by the cauldron with a dreamy look on her face.

"What is it, my lady? Why are you looking at me like I'm the special on the menu?"

She closed her eyes and let out a theatrical sigh.

"Oh, Sir Bodyguard Crosby! I cannot contain my love for you any longer!"

He frowned.

"Okay, it was a riot when you did it for Count Wardes, but the 'I'm madly in love with Sir Crosby' act ain't funny anymore."

The pinkette looked stricken.

"What do you mean? This is no act, my love for you is real, and as deep as the oceans and could reach the moons themselves!"

And she was doing the eye shimmer. Panic didn't creep up Crosby's spine, it was a high-speed bullet train that raced up his vertebrae and collided at full tilt with his lower cerebral cortex.

"I said drop the act! You're starting to freak me out!"

She frowned, and was about to say something when another voice interrupted.

"Louise! You messed everything up! You really are a Zero, that tea was meant for my beloved Guiche, and you drank it! Worse, I accidently drank the rest of it, do you even know how much-oh?"

It was Guiche's girlfriend, Montmorency. She was in the process of berating Louise when she saw Crosby looking at her. Her expression changed and her eyes began to shimmer.

"Oh, my gallant knight with the beautiful eyes! How I do adore you!"

Louise spun around to face the blonde.

"How dare you say such things to my boyfriend!"

Montmorency huffed.

"Hmph! Louise the Zero has a boyfriend, that is rich. You do know that he has to agree before you can call him your boyfriend, don't you?"

The pinkette opened her mouth but was interrupted yet again by the sound of another voice.

"Ahh, my handsome war horse is bathing! I hope you saved room for your favorite fire mage!"

Both girls looked away at the sound of the voice, and it was Kirche in a bathrobe and had her hair up. But when they looked back, the cauldron was empty.

_(AN: Yeah, it's official, I'm a class-A stinker. Seriously I was playing _Spec Ops: The Line_ yesterday evening and I swear one of the Zulu Squad soldiers in the Bridge level instead of saying "Taking casualties" said "We are _**not**_ amused." _

_Speaking of crisis, this has been brought up before due to some ambiguity of certain ages, so one more handwave before we go:_

_*The mustached magician wearing a white bowtie and evening wear comes into the spotlight on the stage and dramatically waves his white-gloved hands, he speaks up in a cultured RP British accent*_

_"With this hand-wave, let it be understood that any female denizens of Helkeginia who are, might be or implied to be paired off with, or 'shipped' as it is colloquially known, with any members of the Damned 33__rd__ or Delta Squad are of age and over the age of 18. This includes but is not limited to: the Princess Henrietta, the maid Siesta, her cousin Jessica, and…oh dash it all what's-her-name the blonde bird brandishing the blunderbuss. Thank you for your attention, and now time for something completely different."_

_That should pre-empt any accusations of unpleasantness, the last thing we want is our heroes and rogues being accused of unpleasant things._

_On to more pleasant subjects I'm extremely happy with the response the "silly" arc has generated, but I've concluded it's run its course and we have to move the story forward. I'm still stubbing out the next chapter Aim High, and as I suspected I'm going to have to split it up into two parts. Should have the first part done by Sunday evening. Until then, thank you all for your input and for your continued interest._


	36. Aim High

_(AN: Before we get under way, another disclaimer:_

_*same spotlighted stage, Mr. Handwaver the Magician comes into the circle of light, looks down at his cue card and frowns*_

_"I say, this is absolute rot! You're not paying me enough to recite this rubbish!"_

_*A disembodied voice booms from above*_

**"Mr. Handwaver, are you familiar with the term 'yaoi slashfic'?"**

_*he looks puzzled*_

_"Well, no, that term doesn't seem familiar."_

**"Take a minute and look it up."**

_*the gentleman pulls out his smartphone and taps the screen a few times. A look of horror and revulsion appears on his face*_

_"This is disgusting! And people do write that?"_

**"Yep. And if you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to find other uses for you."**

_*he squares his shoulders and folds his arms defiantly*_

_"You wouldn't dare!"_

_*In a puff of smoke, there appeared a large, muscular man sporting a handlebar mustache and wearing leather chaps. He gives Mr. Handwaver a flirtatious wink. Quickly the magician recites the disclaimer at top speed*_

_"This disclaimer states that the following events take place exactly fifteen minutes prior to Sgt. Crosby taking his bath. This disclaimer also states wishes to reiterate that Spec Ops the Line belongs to Yager Entertainment and Familiar of Zero belong to Yamaguchi Noboro. Any references to pop culture up to and including Monty Python belong to their respective owners. No familiars were harmed in the production of this chapter."_

_*the biker looks disappointed, and disappears in a puff of smoke*_

_"Wanker." the gentleman says under his breath._

_*In another puff of smoke there appear two large bikers. The gentleman panics and runs off stage*_

_"And now time for something completely different! I hope!"_

_*ahem*_

_The Weaver was right; I do have a bit of a cruel streak in me. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!)_

Montmorency placed the last piece of silverware on the table set for two and looked around. Nobody was in the courtyard, it was evening and all the students were having dinner. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small phial and poured it into one of the teacups. Her beloved Guiche should be finishing is dinner and promised to have tea and cakes with her afterwards. Soon she would not have to worry about him flirting with other girls. Soon she would have Guiche all to herself. Her thoughts were interrupted when someone collided with her and knocked her to her backside. Standing over her and panting very hard was Louise.

"What in the name of Brimir are you doing, Louise?"

The pinkette was still huffing.

"I'm, I'm trying to catch up with my familiar. He ran off again."

She noticed the tea.

"My throat is dry from all this running, can I have some of your tea?"

Montmorency shook her head emphatically.

"No! Don't!"

The pinkette had already put the cup to her lips and was taking a drink when Montmorency tried to snatch the cup out of her hand. She lost her balance and fell to the ground again. Its contents spilled all over her, she could even taste some of the tea in her mouth. She glared and Louise, but the pinkette was already gone. She ran after her.

* * *

><p>Kirche peered into the cauldron.<p>

"Yoo-hoo! Sir Crosby, are you hiding in there my handsome war horse?"

Louise huffed.

"Kirche, he's not going to be in the cauldron! And you're not getting him! He's mine!"

The blonde was deep in thought; she had her arms folded and was tapping her chin with a finger. She interrupted the argument brewing between the redhead and the Zero.

"Both of you shut up! Sir Crosby couldn't have gotten far, his clothes are in the kitchen with the staff. That's where I'm going."

She turned and ran towards the center tower, with the pinkette and Kirche hot on her heels. The courtyard was silent again, a shadow appeared and temporarily eclipsed the light that the two moons were putting off. Sylphid was flying with Tabitha and Crosby on its back.

"Thanks, Tabitha. I owe you a library of books."

She didn't say anything but nodded. An idea popped into his head.

"Say, do you know anything about something called a nøkk is?"

That elicited a reaction, she looked surprised.

"How do you know its true name?"

"What's it?"

"The nøkk is a Water Spirit of Lagdorian Lake, that is its one true name, only Montmorency's family knows that. How did you know?"

Crosby shrugged.

"I have a source. Any way we can get there?"

She shook her head.

"Very far away. Should use your airship."

"Well, it was worth asking."

He looked over to the main tower.

"Any chance you can get me to my room? I need to keep a low profile until that potion wears off."

Tabitha nodded, and Sylphid took off in the direction of the dormitory. When it hovered by his window, he jumped onto the balcony and turned back to Tabitha.

"Can you run by the kitchen and pick up my gear? Just drop it off on the balcony or have Siesta drop it off."

She nodded again, and the dragon took off.

Crosby opened the windows to his suite and allowed himself a sigh of relief.

"Safe at last."

He said to himself in the darkened room. The something collided with him and pinned him to the floor. He smelled lavender and cursed.

"Oh crap."

Louise stamped her foot.

"Kirche! Stop suffocating my boyfriend with your enormous breasts!"

Before the redhead could insult Louise, the blonde in the room spoke up.

"Louise, you are such a Zero! He isn't your boyfriend just because you say he's your boyfriend, he's mine!"

Kirche was distracted enough for Crosby to pull himself out her marshmallow hell and scooted away from the trio. This one time he wished he had his hardware, instead he was in a tee shirt and boxers.

"Nobody in this room is anyone's boyfriend! Now all of you take a chill pill!"

All three of the girls looked striken. The blonde spoke first.

"It's my freckles, isn't it? They mar my otherwise perfect visage!"

Louise sniffled.

"It's because I'm flat-chested, you're one of those perverts who love breasts."

Crosby shook his head.

"Look, all of you need to just chill out. Now what the hell happened? Kirche I can understand the unwanted attention, she's had a hard-on for me since I was turned. But you two have gone from giving me goo-goo eyes to outright sex assault and wild declarations of love. What's the gag?"

Louise spoke up.

"I don't know, the last thing I remembered was drinking some of Montmorency's tea."

He looked over to the blonde.

"What did you do, slip a magical mickey in the tea for your boyfriend?"

Montmorency hung her head and blushed. Kirche's eyes widened.

"One of the first year students told me a purveyor in illegal potions was nabbed in town, with a large amount of money on his person."

Crosby looked back to the redhead.

"You mean love potions are illegal? That's rich."

Montmorency looked on the verge of tears.

"All I wanted was for my Guiche to love me back!"

He shook his head and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Look, kid, it's no secret that your idiot boyfriend can't keep it in his pants. But using drugs isn't the answer."

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering.

"My beautiful knight loves me back, I knew it!"

"Oh crap."

She grabbed him in a fierce hug. And the argument started all over again.

"Wait!" Kirche exclaimed. "I have an idea how to settle this."

* * *

><p>"Sir Crosby! Sir Crosby where are you?"<p>

Tabitha had told Siesta to bring his clothes to his room, but when she arrived, he was nowhere to be found. She noticed the window was swinging open and went to close it. What she saw out the window made her drop the bundle of clothes and run out the door. She had to go wake up Mr. Lugo, and quickly.

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, in the Wind Courtyard)<strong>

"Okay, okay, I know everybody's blood is up and you gals are hot and bothered, and not thinking clearly. I'm only going to say this once, ladies. GET ME THE FUCK DOWN NOW!"

Crosby was tied up, and dangling from Kirche's window. The trio of lovesick girls were on the ground, Kirche had decided on a duel of magical abilities. The rule was simple, whoever could destroy the rope and release Sir Crosby, would win. To say Crosby was not happy was an understatement. He was losing his cool.

"I'm not fucking around here, ladies, get me down and nobody gets hurt, especially me!"

Kirche waved at Crosby.

"Not to worry, my handsome war horse! I won't let Louise the Zero hurt you!"

Montmorency glared at the redhead.

"If anyone is going to save my boyfriend, it will be me!"

The pinkette pushed the other two aside.

"I have heard enough, only I will save my true love!"

She let off an incantation, and a bolt of energy blew her off her feet and narrowly missed Crosby, leaving a huge hole in the side of the tower.

The blonde screamed in terror.

"Louise, you Zero! Are you trying to kill my boyfriend?!"

She turned called up to Crosby.

"My knight Sir Crosby! Are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright! That crazy pink-haired brat almost killed me! Now get me down!"

Kirche stepped up.

"Perish the thought! My handsome war horse will be freed by heat of my love for him."

But before she could get a spell off, there was a loud crack that echoed through the courtyard, and the rope dangling Crosby snapped. A blue blur swept him up. He struggled but stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

"It's okay, sarge, I gotcha."

He grinned at the Delta sniper.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, sergeant. How did you know?"

"Siesta went to your room to give you your clothes, and saw what Big Red, Pinkie and MonMon were planning to do, and told me. Actually all she told me was that you were in mortal danger, so I grabbed Betsy and made a beeline for the courtyard."

Crosby nodded to his rifle.

"That was a hell of a shot. Don't tell me you took the shot on Sylphid's back?"

Lugo grinned.

"If I told you no, would that make you feel better?"

Crosby shrugged.

"Fair enough, I don't need to know. Give me a hand and cut me loose."

When Lugo had freed the last of Crosby's bonds, the blue dragon landed lightly on the ground. Crosby and the Delta sniper slipped off.

"Good news, I think I may found a cure for what ails me."

Lugo nodded over to the trio of witches-in-training.

"You mean your curse or them?"

Crosby saw the girls approach and his face hardened.

"Both."

Quickly he reached and grabbed Lugo's M9 out the holster and pointed it at the incoming girls, who stopped dead in their tracks. He could hear Lugo talking to him.

"Okay, sarge, I know you've had a rough night, but this is a bit extreme."

He ignored it, and spoke up.

"Okay, ladies, you know what this boomstick can do, so listen very carefully. Tomorrow is a big day; we're making a trip to Gallia and a lake where a water sprite resides. A little bird told me this sprite holds the key to curing me, and possibly you two as well. So I'm off to bed to get the first good night's sleep since I've been turned into a pretty boy chick magnet. Anyone who so much as lays a finger on me before tomorrow morning gets a lead salad, got it?"

All three of them looked heartbroken at his words, but they nodded.

"Good."

He handed the pistol butt-first back to Lugo.

"I'm getting some shut-eye, get Bowles on the horn and let him know we need a ride first thing in the morning."

_(AN: Okay, so that was a bit of an overreaction on Sgt. Crosby's part, but remember he's been functioning on little sleep and has been pawed and pecked and kissed and glomped by a never-ending herd of females, and the witch's duel was the last straw. Part two should be up by the middle of next week, could be sooner. Hope you enjoyed!)_


	37. Aim High, Part Deux

_(AN:  
>*there is the same stage with a spotlight, Mr. Handwaver runs on stage with the two bikers hot on his heels. He gives them the slip and hides by the floodlights. He looks up and whispers*<em>

_"I know you can hear me, and I want to know that I'm sorry I called you a wanker. I would greatly appreciate it if you could use your vast God-like powers to unwrite this unfortunate episode out and return things back to normal."_

_*in a puff of smoke the bikers disappear and the magician is back to his immaculately groomed self and looks around questioningly*_

_"What? Why am I here?"_

**"Nothing, I thought I had a handwave for you to do, as it turned out I just altered a few sentences."**

_"Ah, very good then. And now time for something completely different."_

_ See? I can be nice. On a more serious note there had been some questions about why Crosby snapped the way he did in the last chapter. I thought I'd put a bit of 'reality ensues' angle, but I'm addressing it in this chapter. _

_I've been slowing down on my updates, which is irritating me, and work has been super busy this week since one of my project managers called in sick and I'm basically doing his job in addition to mine. Add to this mix a nasty bit of writer's cramp and you have a recipe for disaster. This chapter is very short, but I figured it could sit in my doc manager folder for a week or I could at least post it and give you guys something this week. I'll try to get the third part up by the weekend or 1__st__ part of next week. Anyways here's the second part of Aim High, enjoy!)_

* * *

><p><em>"Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Corporal Jebediah Tebby, your regular pilot Lt. Bowles is currently indisposed at the moment enjoying some female company, so I will be your pilot this morning. Thank you for flying Tristainia Airlines, we have about a thirty minute flight ahead of us, depending on the weather. Unfortunately our flight attendants are on strike so there will be no beverage or snack service on this flight. As for in-flight entertainment, you have the choice of watching our pink-haired walking IED abuse her boyfriend, or Sgt. Crosby getting his face wedged between Big Red's melons. Please be advised that due to violence and adult themes, the entertainment is rated PG-13, parental guidance strongly suggested. I wish to point out that if you feel the nicotine cravings due to the unwanted harem wanting to fuck your brains out or the like you'll be SOL, as federal regulations designate this as a "non-smoking" flight. Thank you very much, and we'll be taking off shortly."<em>

Lugo looked over his shoulder into the passenger compartment of the Little Bird and smirked. Originally Crosby had wanted to go solo, but Montmorency said that the sprite would only speak to a member of her family, so she would have to come. The fact that she was still under the influence of her own love potion also had something to do with it. Louise also wanted to come, and brought Saito her familiar along as well. Kirche came along just because she didn't want to be separated from Crosby, which was why he was currently being cuddled by her. Lugo opted to take the copilot's seat to accommodate the extra passengers. He spoke into his mic.

"Okay Tebby, everyone's secured. Let's lift off."

_"Roger that."_

As the chopper took off, Lugo was thinking about the conversation he had with Crosby the previous night. After he had spoken to Bowles on the radio, Lugo had made his way to the dormitory and knocked on Crosby's door. There was a distinctive rasping click of a handgun being cocked.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, sarge. I just wanted to let you know I got off the horn with Bravo Six, they'll be picking us up at 0600 tomorrow."

The door opened revealing Crosby. He was holding his Desert Eagle on the ready, and quickly peered down the corridor before letting Lugo in. After he entered, Crosby locked the door and stuck the pistol into the waistband of his black utes. The Delta sniper folded his arms.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?"

"What all what was about?"

"Oh, nothing much, just you pulling a loaded gun on three teenaged girls and threatening to kill them. Seems like a bit of overkill to me."

Crosby hung his head.

"Look, I'm sorry about that, but I seriously thought I was going to die when they were doing that stupid witch's duel."

"I dig that, sarge, they were messing with you and almost got you killed, but that was a bit of disproportionate retribution, don't you think?"

Crosby sighed and sat down on the bed.

"I guess something in my mind just snapped."

He looked up to Lugo.

"Do you ever get nightmares about what happened in Dubai, sergeant?"

A pained look crossed the usually cheery Delta sniper's face.

"Just once. It had Walker and Adams in it, too. They were shooting their way through some sort of fortified outpost by a bridge, near a marina."

Crosby nodded.

"That place we called 'The Bridge' because it was the only way to access Konrad's headquarters, the Burj Khalifa, the tallest skyscraper in Dubai."

Lugo continued.

"They were bloodied and looked like hell and basically were killing anything that moved. I was hiding in the last bunker, and burst through the doors. Walker began taunting me, and both he and Adams began shooting at me, I'm guessing they thought I was one of the 33rd. I kept trying to tell him that all this was his fault, that he was no savior, that the only villain was him. Then he shot me in the face, and I woke up. It was bad enough to scare Siesta. She had heard me scream, even though her room is down the hall in the servant's quarters."

Crosby looked thoughtful.

"I've been getting visits by the Weaver in my dreams lately."

Lugo grinned.

"You're lucky, getting a visit by a gorgeous ethereal babe."

Crosby returned the smile.

"Yeah, I think she's developed a sense of humor since she sent me here. She's the one who told me about the water sprite."

Lugo turned and made his way towards the door.

"Look, I'll see about talking some sense to Big Red and Pinkie so they don't go all clingy on you tomorrow, but can you promise me you won't pull a stunt like that again? It really freaked Pinkie out and she was crying when I left her."

Crosby shook his head.

"I can't promise anything, Lugo, but I'll do my damnedest to keep the violent impulses under control."

"That's all I needed to hear. Good night, sarge! See you at 0600."

* * *

><p><strong>(the next morning, 05:45 hours)<strong>

Crosby woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He felt groggy in spite of getting the first good night's sleep since his change-up. He sat up and checked his watch.

"Hmmm? Oh, Bravo Six must be early."

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and put his feet on the floor. He yawned as he shuffled over to the door. The knocking persisted.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Ease up, Lugo!"

He unlocked the door and flung it open, and was greeted by a face-full of tanned lavender-scented cleavage.

"I brought my handsome war horse a nice cake for breakfast!"

Crosby pried his face out for air.

"Please tell me you brought coffee?"

As if on cue the redhead pulled up a coffee pot seemingly out of nowhere. He shrugged.

"Okay, you can stay. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day and I'm not facing it without coffee."

* * *

><p>"Hey! I said cut it out!"<p>

Crosby had finished his coffee and was attempting to finish a slice of cake. Attempting being the key word as he was simultaneously trying to keep Kirche's hands off him as he ate. There was another knock on his door. He disentangled himself from the redhead's embrace long enough to open the door to reveal the Delta sniper, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hey, sarge there you are. Am I interrupting anything?"

Crosby glared at Lugo.

"You're late."

"Nope, Bravo Six is late. Just got off the horn with Tebby and he said his ETA is about 15 minutes."

Crosby was about to say something when he was ambushed from behind by the redhead.

"Ah, plenty of time to spend with my handsome war horse."

Lugo grinned at the sight of the Zulu squad sergeant turned teen being glomped by Kirche. Finally he gingerly took both her hands and disengaged Crosby from her embrace.

"Why don't you give your war horse a breather and let him gear up?"

* * *

><p>Which brought Lugo back to the present; he was looking over the horizon through the Little Bird's windscreen. Gallia was not much different from Tristian, there were more pine trees, and it was a bit more mountainous, but it wasn't much different. He turned around and beckoned Montmorency to come up front. He motioned to one of the spare headsets that was hanging off the bulkhead. She didn't seem to understand at first but when Lugo motioned towards his own headset she nodded and put the headset on.<p>

"Can you hear me, Blondie?"

She looked startled.

"_Yes, I can hear you! Is this some sort of magic?"_

"Yeah, yeah it's our own version of magic so we can carry on a civilized conversation in this loud 'Bird. Where is this lake?"

The blonde paused for a moment to get her bearings and pointed.

"_There! To the south and east."_

"Tebby, you heard the lady, let's go check it out."

"_Roger that."_

As Tebby guided the Little Bird around an outcropping of foothills, Lugo saw a strange sight. There was a town that was almost completely flooded. He heard Montmorency gasp.

"_The town! It's flooded, but why?"_

"I take it that's not normal?"

She shook her head.

"_No, my family has had a pact with the spirit for many years, something must have angered it."_

He nodded and turned to Tebby.

"Find us a flat spot by the edge of the lake and take us down."

Tebby set the chopper down in a clearing. Lugo jumped out first and scanned the area through the scope of his Scout Tactical. When it was all clear he motioned for the teenagers to disembark, then gave the thumbs-up to Tebby.

"Since Gallia might be aligned with Cromwell and his cronies, you might want to dust off and keep a low profile."

_"Roger that, I'll keep my ears on if you need a hot pickup. Bravo Six out."_

The chopper lifted off and the group made their way towards the edge of the lake. Crosby secured his P90 and adjusted the straps on his borrowed PALS vest. Currently it just had a cross-draw holster for his M9 and a mag pouch. He left the rest of his gear in the care of Marteau, figuring the chef would keep it safe. He took the lead and walked by Saito, mostly to get away from the trio of girls who were currently arguing over which one of them loved Crosby more.

"So kid, you seem awfully laid back about Louise being smitten for me."

Saito shrugged.

"It's okay. When Louise was trying to beat me the other night I told her that the love of her life wouldn't approve her abusing her familiar."

Crosby looked incredulous. The sword strapped to Saito's back spoke up in McPherson's voice.

"Don't blame the kid, sergeant. It was my idea, Saito had asked for advice and I figured it fell under the 'adapt and overcome' column."

Deflinger's voice cut in.

"Yeah, and I told him it was kinda low."

Crosby interrupted.

"And she bought that?"

"Yep, since then she's been very nice to me."

He shook his head.

"This is nuts."

Something on the ground caught his eye and he signaled for the group to stop. He bent down and picked it up. It appeared to be some sort of public notice poster. Someone must have walked off with it and discarded it here. He couldn't read the language on the poster but there was a highly stylized woodcut engraving of someone in heavy armor. He handed it to the trio.

"Can any of you read this?"

Kirche peered at the writing.

"It's Gallian. It says 'Wanted; the criminal known as the Jester and his unholy Golem, for War Crimes against the Crown of Gallia, for the murder of four diplomatic envoys, and for spreading mischief and mayhem in the republic of Albion. A Reward 50,000 sovereigns is offered for their apprehension.'"

She looked up at Crosby.

"Do they mean Mr. Gordon? That can't be right."

Crosby took the wanted poster from her and tucked it in his pocket. He shared a glance with Lugo, then spoke.

"Of course, it's all lies designed to paint the allies of Tristain to be evil. Come on, we're burning up daylight."

They continued through the forest, and after about ten minutes of hiking arrived at the edge of the lake. Louise turned to Crosby and clasped her hands in his.

"Are you sure you want to do this my love? You know that the spell will wear off after a while."

"How long will it take to wear off?"

She thought for a moment.

"Oh, not more than a year."

"And spend a year in this body with the three of you fighting over me? No dice. Blondie, quit with the jealous glares and summon this water spirit."

Montmorency set her toad familiar on the ground and pricked her finger with a small needle.

"Why are you doing that?" Saito asked.

She looked over to him.

"It is for proof that I am a Montmorency."

A drop of blood landed on the toad's back, and it hopped off the ground and into the lake. No sooner had it submerged when the water in the lake started to churn and boil. Then a spout of water from the middle of the lake shot straight up. It morphed into a female form, which bore a striking resemblance to the blonde witch. A voice issued from the water.

"Who is it that has awakened me?"

"It is I, Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency, who has awakened you. I seek to undo a wrong that has been wrought. I need three of your tears to accomplish this."

The water spirit shook her head.

"I cannot grant this to you, not while I seek what has been taken from me."

Crosby took a step forward.

"Seeking? Is that why you flooded the village?"

The water spirit nodded her head.

"Yes. Two wicked mages stole a treasure from me, my ring of Andvari. Until it is recovered I must refuse, and I must ask you to leave."

The spirit's form began to waver, and turn back into a roiling spout of water. Crosby waved his arm.

"Wait, noble Nøkk! I need those tears!"

The spout morphed into a female form again.

"How is it that you know my true name? Who are you?"

The water spirit leaned closer towards Crosby, and suddenly the rune on his forearm began to glow. The spirit spoke.

"It is you, _Lífþrasir_, after all these ages I thought I would never see you again. If I give you the tears, will you accomplish a task for me?"

He nodded.

"Of course, anything."

"Hunt down those who took my ring from me, and bring it back here to me. Will you do this for me, _Lífþrasir_?"

Crosby straightened up and saluted.

"Consider it done."

The water spirit dissolved into a pillar of water, and splashed back into the lake. Three small phials floated out of the water and on the shore by Crosby's feet. The spirit's voice echoed across the water.

"Remember your promise _Lífþrasir_, and a thousand blessings on your quest."

Without hesitation Crosby grabbed one of the phial's and drank down its contents. Immediately he felt a burning sensation and was blown into the water. When he emerged from the water he felt his face and looked over to Saito for affirmation.

"It worked, Crosby-san."

He nodded as he pulled himself out of the water.

"Give the other two to Louise and Montmorency."

The change was less dramatic on the two girls, and they were back to their old selves.

"Sir Crosby, I am sorry for my wanton behavior towards you."

Crosby turned to Montmorency, who was blushing.

"Forget it, it's all water under the bridge, Miss Montmorency. The question is, who or what is _Lífþrasir_?"

The blonde shook her head.

"I don't know. It must have formed an ancient pact with this spirit, for the spirit to trust you with its tears."

Crosby was about to respond when he felt a something hit his back. Unsurprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"Stupid Bodyguard! Stupid! Stupid! Stup-"

He turned around quickly to see Louise hitting him. He snatched the riding crop out of her hand and threw it in the lake.

"With all due respect to my lady," he said, ignoring her tiny fists pummeling his leg, "if you hadn't bungled that transmutation spell I wouldn't be in that position to begin with."

He looked up and saw the redhead flying towards him.

"What has happened to my poor old war horse, let Kirche make it all better!"

Her advance was halted when her forehead collided with Crosby's palm, he was very gently but firmly keeping the well-endowed redhead at arm's length.

"I'm sorry Miss Zerbst, it pains me to tell you that you have glomped your last glomp with Sgt. Crosby. I hope you had a lovely time over the last couple of days, thanks for playing. But there will be no more of that."

He nodded over to Lugo.

"Get Tebby on the horn and tell him to pick us up, we're out of here."

_(AN: Sorry, Kirche. It had to end sometime, but you'll always have the night when Crosby slept in your bed._

_Welp, hope you enjoyed this 'silly' arc, I certainly did get a chuckle out of writing it. I'm shifting gears for the next chapter, we're going to be checking in with Konrad and co. at the palace. The Radioman might even make an appearance. Work has me busy and up to my eyeballs so depending on how things go it will probably be the weekend when I publish the next chapter.)_


	38. One Big Happy Family

_(AN: Okay, as you might infer from the title I'm running out of Achievements from Spec Ops: The Line and I'm going to be introducing some original titles. These will either be witty one-liners that I have created on my own, or achievements from other FPS. The good news for you is that this next arc has been expanded quite a bit; it will include more elements from the Familiar of Zero storyline and some extra stuff. Heck I might even throw in one more SOTL character for good measure. Any suggestions, be it for the titles or if you want/don't' want another new character, feel free to put them in the suggestion box. As previously stated things have been getting busy with work and such, but I promise I will update at least once a week, either Saturday evening or Sunday morning.)_

The stillness of the afternoon air in Tristainia was broken by the drone of a Little Bird engine and the sound of blades cutting through the air. The inhabitants of the city had grown accustomed to seeing the odd-looking airship flying to and from the palace. Tebby's passenger spoke up.

"_Wow, that's the palace? Pretty fancy digs, man."_

"Yeah, Radioman, it's plenty fancy. Too gilded for my tastes, but if it's going to house a princess I guess it has to be."

Darden looked over his shoulder at all the equipment in the passenger compartment of the chopper.

"_You sure my stuff is secured?"_

Bowles nodded.

"Sure I'm sure. Of course we were in a bit of a hurry to bug out."

* * *

><p>While Tebby was having a road trip to Gallia to cure Crosby and the teen witches, Bowles had received a radio call from Lt. Gordon at the palace. Apparently his friend Robert Darden, aka the Jester, was in serious trouble. One of the nobles who let him use his country estate was captured by the Reconquista, and they were closing the noose. Fortunately for Darden they weren't counting on an aerial evac. So he had marching orders on the ready when Tebby radioed in.<p>

_"Ah, Bravo Actual this is Bravo Six I have successfully completed Operation Waterspout, packages are dropped off, I am inbound."_

Tebby's voice crackled through the static. Bowles responded.

"Belay that Bravo Six, we have new orders. Radioman's in hot water and needs an evac."_  
><em>

_"Holy shit, how hot is hot?"_

"Apparently one of his contacts turned on him, and now they have closed off the border and have him surrounded. I don't have many details other than they're not making a move yet, but time is still of the essence. Gordon will transmit the IFF codes for you to home in on when you get close."

_"Roger that. Bravo Six is inbound to Albion, ETA three hours."_

It was midday by the time Tebby reached Albion, he was flying high enough to avoid detection and was going off of the IFF beacon Darden was transmitting. He opened a channel.

"To friendly transponder ID Fife, One, Fife, Zero, Romeo, Delta; this Bravo Six transmitting IFF authentication is Romeo Foxtrot, Juliet Tango Four, Zero, Niner, Niner, if you copy turn to channel twelve and respond."

For a full minute there was nothing but static and he tried again. After the second time he heard a faint voice in the static.

"_Holy crap, looks like the Jester is getting his very own Operation Frequent Wind! Bravo Six I am very fucking glad to hear your voice."_

Tebby chuckled.

"Roger that Jester, be advised I am about sixty klicks from your poz and closing so hunker down and sit tight."

* * *

><p>Darden was getting nervous. The Reconquista troops hadn't tried ramming the gates of his castle yet, they were just sitting there as if taunting him to try and leave. He checked his watch. Bravo Six should be here any minute now. He looked over to the only person who hadn't left, an elderly caretaker of the castle who wore some sort of Tartan cape over his tweed clothes. With his ruddy complexion and thick accent Darden had nicknamed appropriately.<p>

"Hey, Groundskeeper Willie, there should be room on this craft for the both of us, if you've changed your mind."  
>The old man shook his head.<p>

"With respect, Mr. Darden, I cannot leave the castle, it's my duty to stay."*

Darden shrugged, and then heard the distinctive sound of rotor blades beating through the air. He started to wave one of his Hawaiian shirts in the air to get the pilot's attention. When the chopper was making its approach, Darden turned back to the groundskeeper.

"Well, looks like my ride is here. Can you at least help with the equipment?"

"Aye, I will."

* * *

><p>This brought Tebby to the present, still chuckling over the Reconquista soldiers gawking at his 'Bird as if it were some dragon. After they got over their initial shock they tried to shoot arrows and even some fire magic spells, but by that point Bravo Six was well out of range. He switched to the command channel and spoke up.<p>

"Heavy Four this is Bravo Six, I have the package from Operation Radio-Airlift on board and inbound."

There was a slight pause but then Gordon's voice came through the static.

"_Roger that Bravo Six, touch down in the main courtyard and bring Radioman inside. He has an old friend who wants to meet him."_

Darden snickered over the radio.

"So old Gordon has set up shop in the palace too, huh? Always knew that guy had a soft spot for royalty."

Tebby steered the Little Bird towards a large open area within the palace where an improvised landing pad was marked out and had a shelter next to it covered in camouflaged netting. There was a small group of knights waiting for them as the chopper's skids touched down. They stood at a safe distance and waited for the engine and blades to slow down before approaching. Darden slipped the catch on his safety harness and opened the door. One of the knights saluted an awkward attempt of a US military salute.

"Robert Darden, alias the Jester?"

Darden nodded.

"Yep, that's me. You guys must be the concierge service."

The knight who spoke looked puzzled, but a familiar voice spoke up from off to the side.

"Quit with the joking, Darden. These guys won't get it."

The Radioman turned his head and saw a familiar sight.

"Well, well, it would appear as if Gordon is still alive. What's shaking, man?"

"Not much, just trying to whip the Tristainian army into battle readiness before the Reconquista decides to invade. C'mon, let's go introduce you to the others."

Gordon led them both through an entrance into the palace and down a long corridor. At the end of the hallway was a large ornate wooden door with several knights standing at attention in front of it. Including a figure wearing the familiar digital desert ACU's.

"Heeeey! It's another member of the Damned 33rd! I know you, you're ah, ahhhh, Torrez?"

Alex turned from talking to Agnès.

"Nope, wrong answer, Radioman."

He was unprepared for Darden grabbing him into a bear hug, shocking the blonde female knight.

"This is so awesome! The 33rd is reunited!"

He began to twirl the young sniper in a circle.

"Reunited! In a whole new wooooorld!"

He heard Gordon clear his throat, so Darden stopped singing/mangling a Disney song and set Alex down.

"All seriousness aside, this is awesomeness taken up to eleven! It's one big happy family reunion! But without the awkward bits like the pervvy old uncle who wants to touch you inappropriately or the slutty second cousin who gets drunk and wants to sleep with you."

Darden saw the look on Gordon's face.

"What?"

"You done?"

"Umm, lemme think…yep! I think I'm good!"

"Good. Because you're about to meet a very important person and it is imperative that you make a good impression, got it?"

Darden waved his hand.

"Yeah, yeah you're forgetting I once interviewed the Emir of Dubai, I know how to deal with stuck-up royalty."

Gordon sighed.

"Yeah, I heard the transcript of that interview. Just mind your p's and q's, okay?"

He nodded to the blonde knight, who signaled to the two guards. They opened the double doors with flourish and revealed a cavernous room filled with banners and columns. Running up the middle of the room between the columns was a deep plush red carpet. Darden smirked.

"They're rolling out the red carpet for us, huh?"

Gordon shook his head.

"Carpet's not for us, Robert."

As they continued to walk Darden could see a throne on the far end of the room on a raised dais, with a gilded throne atop it. He saw two figures talking off to the side, one of whom he recognized.

"Konrad?"

Col. Konrad turned and smiled.

"Well, well, Darden. It's good to see you made it out of Albion in one piece. Welcome to Tristain."

Darden couldn't help himself, he ran over and hugged the colonel as well.

"Oh, man! It's so good to see that you made it, too, sir."

Konrad smiled.

"Good to see you too."

Darden then noticed the other person that Konrad was talking to, a lovely young lady with purple hair.

"So John, are you going to introduce me to this pretty young thing?"

He heard Gordon clear his throat and Konrad shifted in his feet uncomfortably.

"Ah, Robert, I would appreciate it greatly if you would show proper decorum for our hostess. May I present her majesty Princess Henrietta of Tristain."

Darden whistled.

"Oh, wow, um yeah sorry about that your highness. I was, ah, just expecting someone older and more uptight, ah, you know what I'm just going to shut up now and stop digging my hole deeper."

The princess to her credit just smiled.

"It's alright, welcome to Tristain, Mr. Darden, or should I say the Jester?"

He grinned.

"Oh, so you've heard of the great Jester of Albion?"

Gordon spoke up.

"If you mean she's heard what a royal pain in the ass you are, then yes."

Konrad interjected before things escalated.

"Lieutenant, that will be all, I believe you have soldiers to train."

the lieutenant saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

When Gordon left, Konrad turned back to Henrietta.

"Your majesty, with your permission I need to debrief Mr. Darden here."

She nodded.

"Of course, you will be available for dinner, won't you?"

Konrad smiled.

"Of course, your majesty."

"Please, I've told you before, you can call me Henrietta, it's alright."

Darden watched the princess leave through a side door in the throne room.

"So John, you and the princess, eh? You sly old dog you!"

Konrad chuckled and shook his head.

"It's not like that, Robert. She's just a good friend and an ally."

"Riiight, I know probably I haven't been here as long as you have Colonel, but I do know that when the women in this world start to do that shimmer thing with their eyes it ain't for their subordinates or friends."

The colonel decided to switch tack.

"So Robert, what did the Lady in the White Light tell you?"

A shadow crossed Darden's face.

"It's a long story."

*The groundskeeper is speaking in an Glaswegian accent for those who are interested. And yeah, I'm not even going to attempt to phonetically try the accent, because 1. Too much work and you as readers might not understand and 2. I really don't want to insult any readers from that neck of the woods.)

_(AN: Ugh, I'm not happy with this chapter. I planned on writing this Big Damned Heroes moment with Tebby rescuing Darden from the Reconquista, but I couldn't get the action sequence to gel up and not look cheesy. So in the end I cut it all out. At least I got another chapter out before the weekend. _

_So, as the Radioman said, now they're all one big happy family. Well, until Radioman and Lugo meet, and then it becomes an awkward reunion to say the least. Hope I'm getting Darden's personality right, it's been a while and now that I'm developing his character it's going to present its own challenges. Next chapter, which is aptly called 'Requiem for a Radioman,' will show why he was so reluctant to tell Gordon what happened after he was shot by Lugo. I might have it up by the end of the weekend, but no promises as the workload continues to pile up.)_


	39. Requiem for a Radioman

_(AN: And here we go! We finally find out happened to the Radioman after he was shot.)_

"Oh ye of little faith…"

Darden swung his chair over to the transmitter. The three soldiers making up Delta Squad, the ones who had arrived less than 48 hours earlier and caused all sorts of havoc in Dubai, most recently aligning with the CIA-backed insurgents and destroying Dubai's water supply, had made it into the radio tower. At the time Darden was masking his fear by joking about them killing his protection detail. Now that they were here it didn't appear that they were going to kill him, Captain Walker just wanted to use the radio transmitter, something he was happy to oblige them if it meant saving his skin. Their radioman, a guy named Sgt. Lugo, was trying to get the thing to work and didn't believe him when he explained the signal's strength reached to the stormwall.

He punched a few buttons and flipped a toggle switch.

"You are live and on the air, my good man, give it a shot."

He pushed the microphone over to Lugo. Lugo stared at the mic for a moment, and stood up. Something about his mannerisms seemed off to Darden. All three of the soldiers were ragged and bloodied, but Lugo had this far-off look in his eyes that reminded Darden of some of the survivors of the botched evac.

"Wow. That was easier than I expected."

Lugo drew his pistol.

"Thanks."

And shot him in the face.

Darden didn't even have a chance to react, he was already in a place of darkness. He still had a body of sorts, because he could still feel the stinging pain in his head of being shot. He also felt an impotent rage at this Lugo. Why did Lugo shoot him? He had cooperated and surrendered, and that psychopathic bastard shot him in cold blood. Suddenly he heard what sounded like a clap of thunder, and heard a silky, rasping voice.

"**Yesss, I can feel your anger…You have potential."  
><strong>

"W-who are you?"

"**Who I am issss unimportant. You were killed were you not?"**

"Fuck yeah I was killed, that little prick Lugo shot me, for no reason!"

There was another rumble, it sounded like laughter.

"**What if I were to tell you that the one who killed you escaped justisssss?"**

"What?! Are you fucking kidding me?"

"**Yesss, he will go to an idyllic world where he will never suffer the conssssequencessss of his crimessss."**

Darden raged at the thought of his killer getting off scot-free.

"NO! That's not fucking fair!"

The entity seemed to sense his anger, and a thought entered his mind, a thought of revenge.

"**What if I were to tell you that I would give you a meanssss to avenge yourself? What would you give me in return?"**

Before Darden could speak, he could hear a voice, very faint, and distinctively feminine.

"_No, Robert Darden, you mustn't give in to your anger! Listen to your heart, and see what your hubris wrought on your friends."_

The entity seemed irritated.

"**Go away witch! This one issss mine! I can feel his hatred flowing through through him, and it isss…mmmm…intoxicating!"**

Fire, like lava, flared up in front of Darden, and licked around him. Suddenly he was aware of two red eyes glaring in the distance. An icy cold knot formed in his stomach, if he had one, and for once in his life Darden wished he had been religious.

"_You will not have him!" _

It was the feminine voice, again, her melodious voice louder this time. Darden could see a small pinprick of light in the distance. The entity sensed it too.

"**No! I will not be denied again! This one hassss has agreed to treat with me, and he will be MINE!"**

Darden tried to speak, but the creature roared. An unstoppable force hit him and forced him to his knees. It was worse than any wind, worse than any storm he had been in, even worse than the sandstorm that stalled out the convoy of Konrad's botched evacuation of Dubai. He could scarcely hear his own screams. Then the light was no longer faint, but burst with the brightness of a hundred suns, and for one awful moment Darden could see the entity that had been talking to him. A terrible black-scaled dragon with horns and talons like scythes unfurled its leathery wings and tried to whip away the bright light, to no avail. Then Darden heard a voice from within the light. It was the same feminine voice as before, but now it sounded more powerful, beautiful, and terrible.

"_**You shall not have him, Alduin the Corruptor, Bane of Svongaard, and Devourer of Worlds! I am **__**Tinúviel**__**, Weaver of Fate, Wielder of the Sacred Light of **__**Telperion**__**, and Mistress of the Celestial Empyrean! Your profane shouts will avail you not in my realm! You will stay in the Darkness whence you were banished, and you will corrupt no more souls henceforth! Begone!"**_

The dark creature vanished, and in the bright white light Darden could see a figure. It was tall and slender, and as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, female. She had long flowing green hair and was wearing some sort of toga-like dress in gold and purple. And she was strikingly beautiful. He grinned.

"Hey good-looking what's cookin'? I mean, apart from you because you're like, smokin'! Ruf!"

The beautiful lady looked at him with a neutral expression, as if she had not heard what he said. Darden continued.

"And that some really nice hair, tell me does the carpet match the drapes, so to speak?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at his own joke. As if in response the lady's brow furrowed and she folded her arms. When she spoke it was in the same melodic voice he heard before.

"_**If that was meant as either a romantic overture or humor, then you failed at both; I have heard better from better men than you, Marion Robert Darden."**_

That annoyed him.

"Hey! It's just Robert! I go by Robert! Jeez I hated that name in grade school."

She ignored his outburst and continued.

"_**You had the opportunity within your tapestry to do as your friend asked you to, improve the morale of those charged with protecting you. Instead you became intoxicated over the power you wielded, and abused it."**_

Darden frowned.

"Hey, hey, that's not fair, lady. Dubai was a shithole and if you had been there you wouldn't be judging me."

She unfolded her arms an approached him.

"_**On the contrary, Robert Darden, I saw the patterns within that weave. Yes, it is true that the place you came from was a place of violence and misery, but even in that place there were threads who still were worthy of redemption; be it as a savior, a knight or a hero. You possess none of those qualities."**_

"Then why the hell did you save me, lady? Just to give me a 'reason you suck' speech? Okay, yeah I got it, I'm a bad boy. What're you going to do, spank me?"

The lady smiled, but it was not a friendly one.

"_**No, I do not think that would be sufficient. There is another tapestry where I have sent other threads like yours, one whose patterns can be changed for the better. Within this tapestry you can use your talents for good."**_

"Oh, I get it with all the mystical double-talk; you're telling me there is another world where I can be the hero and save the day, right?"  
>She shook her head.<p>

"_**No, that Tapestry already has a hero, but you will be useful in your own right."**_

She snapped her fingers, and a world became visible. At first only continents were visible, but then different lands came into focus and finally a large city. When Darden could make out the city's inhabitants he yelped.

"What?! Are you fucking kidding me? Technicolored talking ponies?"

She continued to smile.

_**"What is wrong with it? 'Tis a peaceful and beautiful place, do you not like it?"  
><strong>_

"Fuck no! What the hell am I gonna do there as a human?"

The lady seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"_**You are quite correct, that is a problem. But thankfully a problem I can rectify."**_

She snapped her fingers again, and this time Darden felt weird. Something was wrong, either she had grown much taller or he had grown much smaller. He fell to his knees and was struggled to stay on his feet. Then he looked down at his hands and saw hooves. He looked up and saw a mirror had appeared by the lady, and saw his reflection. He was, in fact, a pony, a purple pony with large eyes and a green mane.

"What the fuck, lady!?"

His voice sounded much higher and squeaker. The lady put a slender hand to her mouth and giggled, as if the sight of him amused her.

"_**Yes, I think that will work. You will be a jester in the court of the ruler of this land, one princess Celestia."**_

Darden was still in shock and he shook his head.

"No, this can't be! Come on lady this isn't funny anymore."

She thoughtfully tapped her delicate chin with one of her fingers, and continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"_**You will need a new name to suit your new office; I think I shall call you…Merry Maker, that fits perfectly, don't you think, Merry Maker?"**_

Darden stumbled forward and awkwardly clutched one of her bare legs.

"Please, please lady, don't send me there! I'm begging ya!"

She very gently disengaged his hooves, and readjusted the wispy folds of her garment. She cocked her head to one side.

"_**Can it be that you do not want to go?"**_

Darden nodded his head.

"Please, just hear me out, okay?"

She folded her arms.

"_**Proceed. But your time grows short."**_

"Okay, okay, look I know I talked mighty big about wanting to help and shit like that when I arrived in Dubai. But the truth was I just wanted a big scoop, I was in jeopardy of being replaced at the magazine by some young upstarts, and this gig was going to be my comeback. And I meant what I said, I did want to improve morale with the music, and I did care about Konrad, I mean initially I didn't but when I got to know him as a person instead of just another military brass, I cared, I did! Hell I tried to talk him away from the ledge when he said he was contemplating suicide, but he was too far gone by that point… And then when Delta Squad showed up, I could have stopped, at any point I could have ordered the 33rd to stand down and let them leave Dubai. But I didn't I was just so pissed off at them that I wanted to see them pay…It's all my fault…"

He heard the lady speak.

"_**Your hubris cost the lives of hundreds, and drove Captain Walker and the men under him into the hands of those who wanted to destroy you. And yet you seemed not to care."  
><strong>_

He looked up and saw a soldier standing next to the lady. He walked up to Darden and squatted down to look at Darden. His uniform was filthy and covered in dried blood and sand.

"Well, well, well, you sure look different. Do you know who I am, Radioman?"

Darden nodded.

"You're from the 33rd."

The soldier leaned in, so Darden could see his grimy and streaked face.

"But do you know who I am, what my name is, and my rank, and what I left behind?"

Darden shook his head.

"No, kid, I'm sorry I don't."

The soldier stood up.

"My name is Private Pete Gobbi. Hell, you interviewed me, and you don't even recognize me?"

"What are you doing here?"

The soldier gestured to the lady.

"Miss Tinny brought me here. She's has been fillin' me in on what's been happening to my friends in the 33rd."

His face broke into a brief grin.

"Apparently my buddy Crosby is having a fun time where he's at."

"Huh?"

The smile left Gobbi's face and he glared at Darden.

"We were ordered by Konrad to protect you at all costs, and yet you cracked jokes about us as we were being picked off one by one by that murdering psychopathic bastard Walker. That guy who you thought was an asshole and wouldn't miss him? He had a baby boy that was born when he was still in the Rockpile, and now that kid will grow up never knowing his dad. That guy who was in your so-called fantasy football league? He left behind a mother who's going to die of a broken heart when she finds out he bought it. We have names, dammit!"

Darden lowered his head, and when he raised it again Gobbi was gone.

"What did Gobbi mean? About his buddies?"

The lady spoke.

"_**As I told you, there were ones within your tapestry who were worthy of redemption, and I plucked them and weaved them into another tapestry, one where they can change the pattern for the better."**_

Darden perked up.

"Could you send me there? I can do a lot more good there than being a jester pony!"

The lady shook her head.

**_"That tapestry is for those who showed valor, kindness or loyalty, such attributes that you do not possess."_**

Darden clasped his hooves together.

"Oh come on please, please, puh-leeez!?"

And he gave her the sad pony eyes. Finally she smiled.

"_**Very well. Robert Darden, you have passed the final test, I will weave your thread into this tapestry, and if you can help the others accomplish their tasks you will earn forgiveness and your eternal reward."**_

She snapped her fingers a third time, and he felt himself engulfed in a golden light.

_(AN: Aaaand that's why Darden wasn't real keen to tell Gordon what happened. Seriously as one of the reviewers indicated, the Radioman is the closest thing to an main antagonist of _Spec Ops: The Line_, and he was kind of a dick. I figured this was a good way for the Weaver to cure him of some of his dick-ness. And it amused me. And before anybody talks continuity, remember than in the Weaver's world exists outside of time, so she can put them wherever and whenever. Because she's cool like that. Bonus points to anyone who gets the reference of the Weaver's real name, which theoretically make this a 5-way crossover LOL. We're going to shift gears back to the Academy in the next chapter, which I'm stubbing out and should have by next week. Maybe sooner if the workload lightens up.)_


	40. Sierra Hotel

_(AN: Here's the next chapter, things are starting to pick up steam, and there will be some more plot twists of this 8-10 chapter arc, so keep an eye open!)_

It had been almost two weeks since the 'transmutation incident' that made Crosby's life so difficult, but things had returned to normal. The students at the Tristain Academy of Magic had their pre-holiday exams, which Louise barely passed, and now he had the school more or less to himself. Kirche decided to spend the holiday with Tabitha and her family, so he had a reprieve from the post-transformation advances of the buxom redhead.

He had spent much of his time pouring over old texts with Colbert and Osmond, trying to decipher the odd rune on his forearm. One morning after his PT regime he changed back into his uniform and armor and made his way down to the dining hall. He really didn't need to suit up just to have breakfast but the Zulu squad sergeant still felt naked without his gear. When he arrived at the dining hall he easily spotted the Louise and her familiar. What surprised him was that Saito was actually sitting at a chair instead of on the floor. When the pinkette spotted Crosby she waved him over.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby, over here!"

She turned back to Saito.

"I have to run and talk to Marteau in the kitchen, but I will be back, if the servant girl comes around have her order the strawberry cake for myself and order whatever you and my bodyguard want."

Saito nodded, when he turned to greet Crosby he saw that the sergeant's jaw was somewhere around his boots.

"What's wrong, Crosby-san?"

"When did that happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when did the Pod People take the loudmouthed bratty pinkette and replace her with Nice, Considerate Pod-Louise?"

The teenager shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, ever since Albion she's been acting strangely."

Crosby took a seat an ordered coffee and some currant cake. When he finished he looked over to Saito.

"Really?"

"Really, she doesn't make me wash her clothes or dress her, I don't even have to sleep on the floor anymore."

The servant arrived with Crosby's order. He took a sip from the sweetened coffee.

"I told you kid, she cares about you. After your big damn heroes moment keeping her safe from that big red dragon, she's warming up to you."

Saito seemed distracted and had a far off look in his eyes.

"What's wrong, kid?"

"Do you ever miss it?"

Crosby took a bite from his cake.

"Miss what?"

"Home, Earth, I mean."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Nope. I told you, I've got nothing to go back to. Because of what the 'Damned 33rd' did in Dubai I'd be lucky to get a court-martial and a bad-conduct discharge."

He nodded to the dining room around him.

"This world with its unique laws of physics and bizarre female behavior is nuts, but at least here at least I can play the hero."

Saito looked pensive as he looked around.

"I mean, I like Louise; she's really cute and all that, but I miss my folks. Some nights I wonder if they're out there worried about me."

He looked up to Crosby.

"Don't you have family that worries about you? Someone who misses you?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Nope."

Saito looked shocked.

"Really?"

Crosby finished his coffee.

"Don't get me wrong, kid. There are times I miss home…"

He reached into the back pocket of his BDU trousers and pulled out a battered canvas wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out a photograph that was folded and dog-eared. Saito looked at it and saw a picture of a blonde woman.

"She's pretty, is she your girlfriend or wife?"

"Roxanne was my high-school sweetheart, and we married shortly after I graduated from boot camp. This was back in the 90's, so the only real military stuff going on back then was us policing the Balkans and trying to make sure the Serbs, the Croats and the Bosnians were all playing nicely. When I signed up I figured it was a nice gravy train to ride to pay for my college."

He frowned.

"Then 9/11 happened, and I got transferred to the 33rd Mobile Infantry Division. At first Roxy was very supportive, but being away from home took its toll on our marriage. We had a huge knock-down drag-out fight when told her I was planned to re-up. Finally I promised her I would do just one more deployment to Afghanistan, and then request my discharge papers. She agreed, and everything seemed okay. Then, six months into my tour, I get an email from my sister-in-law saying that Roxy was involved in a horrible car crash. I tried to race home, but was held up because of a snowstorm in Frankfurt. She died before I could got there."

Saito's eyes were very wide. Crosby pulled another photograph out of his wallet, and gave it to him. It was a photo of a young brown-haired boy. Crosby continued.

"That's Jonathan, my son, he would be about your age now. He blamed me for Roxy dying, and he refused to speak to me, except to snap and chew me out at the funeral in front of everybody. He never forgave me for not being there for him and his mother, and after the funeral he moved in with his mom's parents."

Crosby smiled grimly.

"When I called him from Dubai to tell him the 33rd was staying he told me he hoped I would die there and be buried under the sand."

He shut his wallet and stuffed it back into his pocket as he saw the pinkette approach.

"So to answer your question, there are some times I miss home, but not enough to go back."

They switched conversations to what they were going to do on Louise's school break. Crosby noticed that she seemed very pensive. Suddenly she set down her teacup and turned to Saito.

"You really want to go home, don't you?"

Saito seemed caught off guard.

"Well, you see…it's not that I don't like it here, but-"

Crosby facepalmed. Louise seemed on the verge of tears and everything Saito was saying was only making it worse. Finally she stood up and ran from the table, crying.

"Wait! Louise wait a minute!"

Both Saito and Crosby stood up and ran after her, it was only in the courtyard that they caught up to her. She was sitting on the ground, still crying. The teen crouched down and took the pinkette's hands.

"I miss my family, that's the only reason I would want to leave this place, but I promise you I won't ever leave you."

That helped, she blinked the tears out of her eyes and nodded. She looked up to Crosby as if for an affirmation.

"I'm not going anywhere, my lady. I've sworn an oath to protect you and your familiar, that is a promise I intend to keep."

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when a cluster of speakers popped seemingly out of nowhere. The speakers hovered over their heads, and a familiar voice issued forth.

"_Hey, hey, hey! Well if it isn't the guy who screwed up my fantasy football league, long time no see Sgt. Crosby!"_

Crosby shook his head. He had heard from Gordon that Robert Darden, aka the Radioman, had made it into Helkeginia, and now it appeared he was in Tristain. Louise looked up in fear.

"Who is that?"

Crosby shook his head.

"That, my lady, would be the infamous Jester of Albion. Looks like he's set up shop in Tristain."

The voice continued.

"_And who do we have here, you must be Louise, the princess's BFF. Wow, I'm pretty sure I can have Konrad pull some strings and pass the hat around so you can get a boob job. You know, so you don't get mistaken for a boy or something."_

The Zulu squad sergeant and Saito both took a step back from Louise, who was seething. Calling Louise flat chested was one surefire way to make her blow her stack.

"How dare you talk to me that way, you commoner Jester!"

She whipped out her wand and fired off a destructive spell at the speakers, which narrowly moved out of the way in time.

_"Whoops, looks like we provoked the pinkette, it's official: we've just entered the Danger Zone! Time for some music to while I make these speakers dance…"_

Loud 80's music began to blare out of the speakers, music that Crosby recognized.

'_Revvin' up your engine  
>Listen to her howlin' roar<br>Metal under tension  
>Beggin' you to touch and go…'<em>

Louise fired off another spell with her wand, only to miss again. The music briefly faded and the Radioman's voice came on again.

"_Whoa! Easy with the goods there darlin'!"_

The pinkette fired off another spell, and the speakers moved again.

_"Boy oh boy, that Gordon wasn't kidding when he said you were a walking IED."_

She fired off another shot, and missed.

"_Wow, in addition to being a founding member of the Tristainian Itty Bitty Titty Committee, and having a hair-trigger temper, we can also add that you're a lousy shot!"_

BOOOM!

_"Missed me! Missed Me! Now ya gotta kiss me!"_

Crosby had had enough, he grabbed the pinkette bodily and pinned her under his arm so she couldn't use her wand. She squirmed in his grasp to no avail.

"Stupid! Bodyguard! Unhand me this instant I want to destroy that disrespectful Jester!"

"With respect to my lady, the only thing you're going to destroy is the school if you keep it up."

"Let go of me! I order you to let me go!"

He started to walk away from the speakers with the struggling pinkette still under his arm.

"Not until you calm down or until we reach Colbert's office. Whichever comes first."

_(AN: Well I felt bad about putting Darden through the humiliation conga line in the last chapter, so I thought I'd churn out this short chapter. Now that the Radioman has set up shop in Tristain, expect him to start playing music at random intervals and doing various commenting and trolling. With regard to the speakers popping up all over the place, I'll explain it in one of the upcoming chapters in this arc, but basically I'm doing a bit of handwaving/rule of cool/rule of magic to show that the Albion noble Darden befriended was a powerful mage that enchanted his speakers to appear at will, and gave Darden some sort of scrying power to see and hear where the speakers end up. Kind of along the same lines in the game when he can eavesdrop on Walker's radio chatter. Hope you enjoyed, next chapter should be up by next weekend.)_


	41. Deer Hunter

_(AN: I've been thinking about changing the title of this fic to something more imaginative. As previously stated I had originally intended this to be a one-shot, so I didn't put much thought into the title, figuring as simple as it was it's more 'exactly what it says on the tin' versus some clever play on words. I've been thinking of something like 'Zulu Squad no Tsukaima' or some play on words of the sort. Thoughts? If you want me to keep the title or have some more clever suggestion let me know. __Also some folks have been asking what some of the soldiers look like, since I've been somewhat stingy on the description, I did visualize what they looked like as I wrote them into this story, basically aside from the video game characters like Lugo or Konrad or the Radioman whom you see in the game, here's breakdown of the OC's:_

_Lt. Gordon when I write him I visualize Josh Harnett's appearance as Eversmann in Black Hawk Down, being the kind of fresh-faced All American soldier type that contrasts with his fearsome appearance as a Heavy Trooper. _

_Lt. Bowles I based off Eric Bana's appearance as Delta Operator Hoot in the same film, complete with the accent and laid back attitude. _

_Cpl. Tebby I based off Jonah Hill's appearance (in more recent films where he's slimmed down) and like his real life counterpart is a bit of a goofball. _

_Alex Walker is basically a younger, prettier version of Walker without the shaved head. _

_And Crosby although I initially based him off the Zulu Squad commander who 'surrenders' to Walker in the hotel lobby, as the story has progressed I've come to visualize him as Alexander Skarsgaard (complete with the ice blue eyes) and demeanor in Generation Kill but with darker hair and the gruff voice. Just a fun bit of trivia.)_

Louise had calmed down by the time Crosby reached the library. It also helped that the Radioman's magical speakers stopped following them and/or disappeared. Inside the library they found Colbert next to a large stack of ancient-looking leather bound books. He looked up from his reading.

"Ah, Sir Crosby, there you are! I've just discovered a breakthrough in deciphering those runes on your arm!"

Crosby looked down and rolled up the sleeve of his uniform.

"What does it mean?"

"It is incredibly ancient, and usually associated with void mages, who are the rarest and most powerful of mages here in Helkeginia."

Crosby frowned.

"But you still don't know the name? The water sprite in the Lagdorian Lake called me Lífþrasir, does that name mean anything to you?"

The professor looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Are you sure that is what the spirit said?"

"Positive. She called me that name several times, and it was the only reason she gave me her tears. Apparently whatever was called that was someone or something the spirit knew many years ago."

Colbert stood up.

"Please follow me, Sir Crosby."

He looked over to Louise and Saito.

"Since this also deals with the runes on Louise's familiar they can come as well, but what I have to say is not for all ears to hear."

The trio followed Colbert to his office, which was crammed with old dusty books and shelves brimming with glass phials and beakers. The professor went to a large leather-bound grimoire that was perched on a lecturn. Next to the book was the talisman Crosby picked up in Albion and burned the rune into his arm. As Colbert flipped through the pages he spoke to Crosby.

"The name Lífþrasir was a legendary familiar, even more powerful than Gandálfr, it was said to be so powerful it was the familiar of Brimir himself."

He stopped at one page, Crosby looked down at it and sure enough, there was a rune that was the same as the one on his arm. It was also in a group of other runes, one of which was the same as the one on Saito's arm.

"What does it mean?"

Colbert looked up.

"The name Lífþrasir means 'Heart of God', the name is so sacred that it is one of the many titles of Pope Vittorio. The fact that you have it is incredible, it means that you are destined for greatness."

Crosby smiled to himself.

"Well, she did say I would be a hero, makes sense."

He saw the curious look on Colbert's face.

"The Weaver of Fate, the lady who sent me here from my world, said that she would grant me my heart's desire, which was to be a hero."

Colbert nodded.

"It would appear she is correct. Whatever Brimir has in store for you, it will be legendary. I feel much more confident in the upcoming war with you on our side."

Crosby noticed a beaker on a shelf, with a familiar smell.

"What is that?"

Colbert picked the beaker up and handed it to Crosby.

"Ah this? This is dragon's blood. It has some marvelous properties."

Crosby removed the stopped and took a sniff. Impossible.

"Sir, will respect, this isn't blood, this is gasoline, or some sort of petroleum-based product."

He handed it off to Saito, who nodded enthusiastically.

"It is gasoline, Crosby-san."

He turned to Colbert.

"We use this in our world to fuel our vehicles."

Colbert looked excited.

"Really? I may then have a clue for you."

He turned around and started ruffling through a stack of scrolls on the bookcase.

"The man I obtained it from said that he took the blood from a large dragon that sleeps in the desert, in the valley of elves."

Finally he pause with one scroll and unfurled it on the table. It was essentially a map of a world.

"This is an older map of Helkeginia."

Colbert pointed to a small corner of the world.

"This is Tristain, where we are."

He then pointed to a large area to the south.

"This is the country of Nephthys, the land of desert elves."

He traced an invisible line to what looked like an oasis.

The merchant said that the lair of the dragon was close to this Oasis."

Crosby looked up and grinned at the professor.

"Thanks, Mr. Colbert. This is a great help to us. If we can track down this 'Steel Dragon' and if it is an aircraft from my world, it could help in the war effort."

* * *

><p>"…So now we have a location of this 'Steel Dragon'. We need to get Bowles on the horn and find out when he can take us out there. It's going to be a bit of a jaunt."<p>

Lugo nodded, and reached for the walkie-talkie by the cutting board.

"Bravo Six this is Delta Three, IFF authentication is Romeo Foxtrot, Romeo Charlie Four, Zero, Fife, Two, how copy?"

The radio squawked to life almost immediately.

"_Holy psychic hotline, Batman! You guys must have burning ears because I was just about to raise you. Oh yeah, this is Bravo Six authentication confirmed."_

Lugo grinned and handed the radio off to Iceman.

"Bravo Six this is Iceman, before you go completely break protocol, I need to have you relay a message to Colonel Konrad, let him know that we've found the location of the 'Steel Dragon.'"

Bowles' voice responded.

"_Iceman you can tell the colonel in person, he's requested all of our presence at the Palace tomorrow afternoon. I'm guessing he has a sit-rep for us on the war effort."_

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that, Bravo Six, what time is pickup?"

"_Apparently the princess wants to feed us lunch, we'll be setting out at 1100."_

"Confirmed, Iceman out."

Lugo turned to Saito.

"I suppose if we're dining with royalty we should spruce up a bit. Any chance old Marteau has a third cauldron?"

* * *

><p>"You're right, sarge, this is awesome!"<p>

All three of the cauldrons were lined up in a row against the wall of the Wind Courtyard, and the three earth-born males were soaking in the hot water and sipping ale out of tankards provided by Chef Marteau. Their coarse talk about women and beer tapered off as Crosby noticed the maid Siesta approach with a pitcher. As she refilled Saito's tankard Lugo spoke up.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking beer, kid?"

Saito took a long drink from the tankard.

"I dunno, aren't you a little old to be dating a teenager, Lugo-san?"

Saito already had had a few beers and between the hot bath and the beer was feeling the effects. Crosby snickered.

"He's got you there, sergeant. And besides, you can get beer in a vending machine in Tokyo."

Lugo shook his head.

"Hey, come on, is this 'pick on Lugo' day or something?"

He turned to Siesta.

"Sweetheart, will you please tell these two perverts how old you are?"

She nodded.

"I'm age 18, I don't know what you are all obsessed with my age. It was one of the first things Lugo asked me when he arrived here."

Crosby shrugged his sweating shoulders.

"You're still violating the 'half plus seven' rule, Lugo. But hey, we're in another world, if this was a one of those weird Japanese cartoons some people watching might object, but thankfully we're not."

Lugo was about to retort when some familiar-looking speakers popped up above them, and the Radioman's voice piped up.

"_Well, well, well, looks like our favorite sniper isn't just a stone cold ruggedly handsome Delta operator, we can also add pedobear to his list of titles!"_

Lugo facepalmed.

"Oh come on, not you too! Since when did the Radioman show up in Helkeginia?"

The Radioman spoke up as if he heard Lugo.

"_Since a certain Delta sergeant shot a poor, innocent, unarmed and surrendering radio DJ in the face. This is the Radioman coming to you live from the Tristainia Palace and for your bathing enjoyment I'm dedicating this song to our favorite cradle-robber!"_

A thunderous blast of drums and electric-synthesized guitar riffs blared in the speakers.

'_Rock the cradle of love  
>Rock the cradle of love<br>Yes the cradle of love don't rock easily, It's true!'_

The rest of the song started playing. When Siesta had gotten over her shock she spoke up over the song.

"I don't understand? What is a pedobear?"

_(AN: And the trolling continues. And even though Mr. Handwaver the magician has already handwaved the fact that all the gals in Helkeginia that are paring up with members of the 33__rd__ or Delta Squad are street-legal, this just reinforces it. That doesn't mean the Radioman still can't troll Lugo. Speaking of which they will meet face to face here soon, and it won't be pretty but it won't be fatal either.)_


	42. Known Unknowns

_(AN: Okay, I had meant to post this before the new chapter but I spaced out. So I'm posting this one and rearranging it before Awkward Reunion. This is supposed to happen the night before the group sets out for Tristainia, it's mostly just fluff with some more foreshadowing, hope you enjoy!)_

That night Crosby dreamt he was back in Dubai. He was in hotel lobby of the Burj Khalifa tower, with the elaborate bordering on tacky carpet upholstery and gold-trimmed furnishings. He shook his head. Something wasn't right; the aquariums, the disturbing ambient music being piped through the lobby's speakers, even the soldiers standing at parade rest in front of him by the elevator bank. He knew he was dreaming because he saw Torrez standing to his left, and he knew that Sgt. Torrez, callsign Bravo Three, bought it when his Little Bird crashed whilst pursuing Walker and the hijacked Blackhawk through ruined downtown Dubai. What was odd was the way Torrez and the other soldiers stood there, like those weird automatons at Disneyland with their wide staring eyes and uncanny valley.

Private Gobbi was at Crosby's right, his BDU cover still on his head and standing ramrod straight, Lt. Bowles was next, for some reason wearing his polarized Oakley's indoors, then Corporal Tebby next to him. Sgt. Chuck Connors was also there, he was a fellow NCO that served in Gordon's platoon before he joined the Heavy Trooper cadre. The Georgian-born sergeant's face was normally split into a large grin given his goofy sense of humor, but now Connors' dark-complexioned visage was stoic, as if set in stone. Crosby heard a door creak and looked over down towards the front desk section of the lobby. A lone bloodied figure shambled across the marble and carpeted floor. It was Captain Walker. Suddenly Crosby heard himself speak.

"Squad, ten-Huit!"

He was actually watching himself now, looking at his tattered uniform, without his helmet or balaclava, his face scarred up and missing an eye. His apparition continued to speak as Walker approached.

"Captain Walker, we're all that's left of the Damned 33rd. We surrender sir, Dubai is yours."

As Walker approached, Crosby could barely believe that the Delta Force operator was still alive. He was covered in wounds, cuts, bruises and burns, and his voice croaked out in a harsh rasp.

"Where…is…Konrad?"

Crosby heard himself speak.

"Where he has always been, sir. Upstairs, waiting for you."

Crosby was shocked. No, Konrad was dead, he had taken his own life almost two weeks ago, leaving the senior officers and himself scrambling to maintain order and discipline within the ranks of the 33rd. He heard a familiar voice behind him.

**_"You have questions, no doubt, Robert Crosby."_**

Crosby turned and saw Tinúviel, the Weaver of Fate, standing there next to him. She was watching Walker shamble into the elevator with sadness.

**_"Captain Martin Walker was a tragic soul. Like you he wanted to be a hero."_**

Tinúviel watched as the elevator doors closed, and then turned back to Crosby.

**_"Unlike you, who wanted to become a hero out of your desire to help others, Walker's motivations for becoming a hero was to enact his own selfish fantasies, and whet his appetite for destruction and mayhem."_**

She continued.

**_ "He was almost beyond redemption when I found him in this state. It was I who made him see the consequences for his actions."_**

The scene in the hotel lobby disappeared, and Crosby found himself inside Konrad's penthouse suite. He looked over and saw Walker arguing with the apparition of Konrad, who by this point had a gun. He looked over to Tinúviel.

"That bastard is going to finally realize what he has done? Will he at least answer for his crimes?"

She shook her head, her green tresses swishing in sympathy with her movements.

**_"No, Walker chose a more direct route of retribution."_**

Crosby's eyes widened when he connected the dots, he looked over towards Walker and the apparition of Konrad. The apparition was pointing his handgun at Walker, his words seemed tinged with regret and sympathy.

"Four. Is this really what you want Walker?"

Walker slowly put the gun under his chin. With a sigh the apparition of Konrad spoke with the air of finality.

"So be it. Five."

Both guns went off, but it was the bullet from Walker's gun that ended his life. Crosby stared at Walker's lifeless corpse for a long minute. He felt the Tinúviel's delicate hand take his and he turned around to face her as she spoke.

**_"I know what is going through your heart, Robert Crosby, you wanted to see him answer for his crimes. But had I not intervened, not only would he not face justice, but he would have denied the truth."_**

"What would have happened, if Walker survived, I mean?"

She looked at him, then with her free hand she snapped her fingers. The vision dissolved to daytime, outdoors and just outside the tower. Walker was sitting there on the steps leading up to the lobby, bandaged up and wearing new clothes. It took Crosby a few minutes to realize it was Konrad's old uniform. He saw U.S. soldiers, probably 2nd Marine Division based off their ACU's, pulling up. He looked back to Tinúviel, who watched the scene unfold.

"Commander, this is Falcon One, I think we've found him."

One of the soldiers, Sgt. Roberts, was slowly approaching Walker, trying to reason with him.

"Captain Walker, we are here to help, but first I need you to lay down your weapon."

Crosby wanted to shout at Roberts, and tell him to take cover, that Walker was insane and would kill him, but then Tinúviel squeezed his hand in hers.

**_"This is pattern within the weave is the Tapestry of what could have been, we are but shades here and cannot interfere."_**

Crosby watched helplessly as Walker slowly raised his AA-12 and gunned down Roberts in cold blood. He continued to watch in horror as the insane former Delta Operator take cover and systematically kill all the other marines. When he finished off the last of them, he took their radio and spoke his only words.

"Gentleman, welcome to Dubai."

Crosby looked back and saw the green-haired lady watching Walker stalk off into the ruins of the city. She was close to tears as she spoke.

**_"If I hadn't altered the pattern of the weave, then Walker would have survived, and he would have continued the lie, and would eventually embrace his destiny as the villain, and would have been beyond redemption."_**

She turned and looked up a Crosby, and stroked his cheek.

**_"That is why I intervened with you and all your comrades, because I could not bear to leave so many men to their fate; that is why I plucked your thread from the Tapestry. You deserved to become the hero, and even a man like Walker deserved a chance at redemption."_**

Crosby nodded.

"I guess if you could find good in that pompous prick Darden you could find good in someone like Walker."

Something Crosby said must have piqued her, because she covered her mouth and giggled.

**_"Speaking of your Radioman, should you ever find him too insufferable call him Merry Maker, and tell him that the Weaver is still watching him."_**

The Zulu Squad sergeant grinned wolfishly.

"Oh, this I have to hear, you schooled Darden? Do tell."

She continued to smile but instead snapped her fingers again, and Crosby was back in his bed in the Tristain Academy of Magic, with her sitting on the side of the bed.

**_"That will have to be for another time, Robert Crosby. There are more difficult times ahead, and there are some in your group who will have to confront past sins in order to receive their absolution."_**

She leaned in and kissed his forehead. He smiled.

"You know, you could go for the cheek to shake things up a bit. Or the mouth, I'm not picky. I even brushed my teeth just in case."

She giggled again.

**_"Maybe I will! Take heart, Robert Crosby and know that if you succeed you and your companions will achieve what you desire most."_**

_(AN: Hope you enjoyed, like I said it's mostly just flashback and fluff, and the fact that I couldn't get the Welcome Home chapter of the game out of my head. Next chapter will be more of the Radioman and we get to see how Konrad and co. have been contributing to the war effort. Should have it up by the weekend.)_


	43. An Awkward Reunion

_(Update 4/1/14: Just real quick, if you got a notification of a new chapter, only to see this, it's not an April Fool's joke I did actually publish a new chapter, titled Known Unknowns__. It's chapter 49 (the previous chapter)._

_AN: Wow. Been suffering from a horrible writer's cramp this weekend, this chapter has been sitting in my doc folder since Friday night, and I decided to just split the chapter up into two parts, I know it's pathetically short but it's still better than nothing. I'm hoping to have the second part up by the middle of the week, and then the next chapter by the weekend. In the meantime, this chapter will have the Radioman trolling someone else. And in more pleasant news a big merci to all my readers; this story now has over 20,000 views! Thank you all for your continued interest!)_

**(the next morning, 1145 Tristain time)**

_"So Crosby, I heard from Gordon that apparently the Radioman's been up to his old tricks."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked over from his co-pilot seat in the Little Bird to Lt. Bowles.

"Yeah, he's been trolling various people at the Tristain Academy of Magic. I wish he wouldn't tease the pinkette."

Bowles nodded.

"_Yeah, I heard she almost blew up half the school trying to get at the Radioman's magically moving loudspeakers. Speaking of which, do you have any idea how he managed to pull that off?"_

Crosby shook his head.

"No idea. Though knowing Darden and his ego, I'm guessing he's going to be very eager to tell us."

Bowles looked out as the Tristainia palace filled the Little Bird's windscreen.

"_Looks like we have a welcoming party."_

As the Little Bird hovered and started to its slow descent, Crosby saw a lone figure in ACU's standing by the improvised landing pad inside the palace courtyard. It looked like Lt. Gordon but he couldn't be sure. He looked over his shoulder to see the choppers' other three passengers. Louise and her familiar/boyfriend were seated together, the pinkette had a look of utter terror on her face as she held Saito's hand in a death grip. Lugo was sitting off to the side and looked nervous, and with good reason. Back in Dubai he had shot Robert Darden, alias the Radioman, in cold blood. Even with McPherson's memories this reunion was not going to be a pleasant one. Crosby was prepared for the worst. As the chopper touched down, he slipped the catch on his safety harness jumped out of the copilot's seat to greet the soldier.

"Lt. Gordon, sir!"

He shouted over the roar of the engine. Gordon returned the salute.

"As you were, sergeant. Welcome to the palace."

He helped Crosby escort the other passengers off the `Bird, and when the blades stopped turning Bowles opened the side door and joined the others. Gordon spoke up.

"Colonel Konrad is going to be giving Princess Henrietta a tour of the war effort, and he thought that you should also see it as well."

He checked his watch.

"Her highness has lunch planned in the Spring Garden, I'm told that lamb and chicken are on the menu."

Before Crosby could respond, some speakers popped up over Gordon's head and the familiar voice of the Radioman spoke up.

"_Well, well, well! Guess who's coming to dinner, looks like it's going to be Crosby and Little Miss Flatchested Pinkie herself! Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Tristainia palace!"_

Crosby groaned and saw Louise seething. He grabbed her before she could pull out her wand and held her under his arm.

"Darden, you stupid prick, could you please not provoke Louise?"

There was laughter coming through the speakers.

"_Oh come on Sgt. Crosby! You ruin all my fun!"_

The Radioman's voice continued.

"_Say, where's my old buddy McPherson? Konrad said that he was going to be in this group."_

Saito's sword spoke up.

"Here, present and accounted for, Darden."

There was a long pause, and it seemed as if the Radioman was at a loss for words. Then laughter broke out through the speakers.

"_Holy crap McPherson, you're a sword? That's priceless!"_

There was an audible sigh coming from the sword, then a second voice spoke up.

"You know, for someone as famous as me I feel like I'm fading into the woodwork here. Since nobody's going to do the honors, I'll introduce myself. I am Derflinger the Great, cuz I'm, well great!"

McPherson's voice spoke up.

"Nobody asked you, Derf. Shut up!"

The Radioman continued to laugh.

"_Well, this is certainly a first. A talking sword with a split personality arguing with himself, or is it itself?"_

Gordon cleared his throat.

"Darden, as enjoyable as it might be for you to taunt and tease our guests, you're keeping them from the princess's lunch date."

The Radioman's voice continued.

_"Hey, fine, don't let me keep you or anything."_

"Here's a thought, Darden, why don't you unplug yourself from your mic and come down to have lunch with us? You know, be sociable?"

"_Weeeell, let's see about that, depends on how busy the lunch crowd is. Save me a spot?"_

* * *

><p>Crosby and his charges followed Gordon through several large gates within the palace and down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor was a door framed in wrought iron and decorated with stained glass fashioned to look like flowers in bloom. The door opened to a well-manicured lawn with cherry blossom trees sculpted green shrubs and brightly colored flower beds. In the lawn's center was a long tabled shaded by a vine-covered pergola, with at least a dozen servants and footmen in attendance. There was the princess's personal guard Agnès and a young man wearing elegant if uncomfortable clothes. It took the Zulu Squad sergeant a moment to recognize him.<p>

"Alex? What are you doing out uniform?"

The young private flushed pink.

"My regular ACU's got dirty during…weapons training."

Crosby noticed the blonde knight also blushed as Alex spoke and thought that 'training' had a different meaning in this sense. Alex continued.

"And, according to the colonel my ghillie suit scares the princess, so that option was out. So Agnès rounded up this monkey suit for me to wear."

Gordon smiled, but then saw a side door to the palace opening up. He stood at attention and barked.

"Squad, ten-hut!"

All the soldiers stood at attention and a saluted as Princess Henrietta arrived and escorted by Colonel Konrad. Konrad was wearing his olive green dress uniform. He smiled and returned the salute.

"As you were, gentlemen."

He looked over to Crosby.

"Sgt. Crosby, I'm glad you could make it. Gordon and I are preparing to give her highness a tour of our weapons facility, so you are welcome to join in on the tour after lunch. In the meantime I think the cook has whipped up some fantastic chow for us."

Everyone settled into their seats, and the meal commenced. When the second course was taken away, Crosby looked up to Gordon.

"Lieutenant, is Darden going to be joining us for lunch?"

Gordon shrugged.

"He might, but since he got his new 'radio tower' he's been like a kid with a new train set on Christmas, so maybe not."

As if on queue loudspeakers popped up over the pergola.

"_I just wanted to let you know that due to a sudden surge of popularity the Radioman sends his regrets that he cannot make it for lunch. But he will be providing some nice music for aid in your digestion. But first I'd like to say hello to a special guest."_

The speakers hovered over Saito, who had put his sword on the chair next to him.

"_Wow, this is the first time I've seen a kitchen utensil get a place setting at the lunch table! So Lt. McPherson, before I launch into half hour of commercial free music, the audience is dying to know the burning question…just how the hell did you get turned into a sword?"_

McPherson's voice spoke up, and he seemed irritated.

"Shut the fuck up Darden, it was funny the first few times but it's getting really old."

_"__Hey, hey, hey! Easy with the language el-tee, this program is rated 'E' for everyone's LAUGHING AT YOU!"_

Derflinger's voice spoke up.

"Geez, buddy if you had a mouth I'd wash it out with soap! There's ladies present!"

Crosby had to grin at the joke, Darden was a prick but it didn't stop him trolling McPherson from being funny. He noticed that even Konrad and the princess were laughing.

"Sorry Lieutenant, but I'm siding with Derf and Darden on this, you should mind your language in front of the women and kids. And you're right, it isn't funny. It's hilarious!"

_(AN: There you have it, very short, but at least it's better than nothing. And let's face it, I've been waiting for the Radioman to troll McPherson since Applied Force, part Deux. Next chapter we'll see the Radioman in his new tower, as well as him explaining why the loudspeakers appear out of thin air as if by magic. Oh, and the little matter of his reunion with Crosby and Lugo, too.)_


	44. The Human Factor

_ (AN: WooHoo! __It's official! Zulu Squad No Tsukaima is on tvtropes!_

_*confetti and tickertape falls down with much rejoicing and fanfare*_

_I was surfing TvTropes yesterday evening (couldn't sleep, again) and thought, why not make a tropes page for the fic? Two hours later et voila!_

_Anyways check out the tropes page and see what you think (I have a link on my profile). Also any fans that are tropers feel free to edit and or add tropes._

_As for this chapter, I'm still working on the next chapter, which is turning into a huge ordeal, and for the last couple of days have been suffering from massive writer's cramp so I churned this out as a change of pace. Like Known Unknowns it's mostly fluff and not really relevant to the plot, but it deals with another character from SOTL.)_

Pvt. Pete Gobbi was feeling very excited about the new mission. Thanks to intel gathered by interrogating the captured CIA agent Gould, the 33rd had located Agent Riggs' headquarters in a mall. The new mission, titled appropriately Operation Cockroach, was to flush him and any insurgents out, and hopefully stamping out the last of the insurgency and bringing stability back to Dubai. He looked over and saw some members of Zulu Squad gearing up as well.

The members of Zulu Squad were easily distinguished with their black and white uniforms and ice-cold demeanor. But one of them looked up and waved the private over. Gobbi grabbed his helmet and M4 rifle and walked over.

"So, you guys are joining us on this mission too, Sarge?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant's stern face broke into a grin.

"Well, command doesn't want to take any chances, what with those three maniacs running amok out there. Last thing we want is for them to link up with Riggs and make a mess of things."

Sgt. Robert Crosby, or 'Sarge' to Pvt. Gobbi, was the leader of the elite anti-insurgency cadre, and was notorious even among his own clique for having a cold, aloof demeanor. That all changed when the CIA had stirred up some of the disgruntled civilians and armed them.

Gobbi and his squad were out on patrol by the ruined sand-clogged freeway of Dubai when they were ambushed by the insurgents. Pinned down and taking casualties, Gobbi radioed in for help.

"This is Bravo Patrol, we are under attack and taking heavy fire! Requesting immediate assistance, over!"

Then a clipped voice came in through the static.

_"Bravo Patrol this is Iceman, what is your sitch?"_

Gobbi breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank Christ! The sitch is FUBAR, we are taking casualties and running low on ammo."

_"Roger that, Bravo Patrol. Be advised, Zulu Alpha is inbound, ETA five minutes. Sit tight and we'll get to you."_

Sure enough, Gobbi could hear the distinctive sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air and echoing off the abandoned high-rises. Then a Blackhawk helicopter emerged from behind the ruined monorail, and immediately the insurgents shifted their fire to the chopper.

Minigun tracer fire cut into the insurgents out in the open, and force the others to take cover. Then, when the chopper was close enough, figures in black uniforms rappelled down to the ground and took up defensive positions around Gobbi's unit.

The leader of that squad was Sgt. Crosby, and the two of them hit it off after that. For whatever reason, Crosby was a completely different person around Gobbi, even some members of Zulu Squad were shocked at how mellow their commander was when he was hanging out with the private.

One evening, when they were off-duty and spending time sipping their daily beer ration at the putting green, Crosby showed him a picture. It was a boy, about 16 with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. According to Crosby that was his son Jonathan. The way the sergeant spoke about his son, he was either dead or estranged, but Crosby told him that Gobbi reminded him of his son. And then he made Gobbi promise him that he would make it out of Dubai, to see his baby girl and wife again.

Gobbi's thoughts were interrupted by a good-natured dope-slap on his helmet.

"Mission Control to Pete, snap out of it! Can't have you daydreaming out there in the field, soldier. Those insurgents will shoot you in the ass!"

The private grinned.

"Aw shucks sarge you're no fun! I was having this great fantasy about my dream threesome with Carly Rae Jepsen and Miley Cyrus!"

Crosby shook his head, laughing.

"Well, your happy-time sock will just have to wait until you get back from this mission. And remember what I said, be careful out there. Your squad's job is to lay down suppressing fire, and leave the breaching and heavy lifting to Zulu Squad."

"Roger that, sarge!"

Crosby reached into one of the pouches on his tactical vest.

"Oh, and one more thing…"

He pulled out a balaclava and gave it to the private. When Gobbi unfolded it, he saw that it had a skull stenciled on the front, just like what all the other members of Zulu Squad wore.

"Gee, thanks sarge!"

Crosby smiled.

"There's a chance we're going to run into another sandstorm out there, and the stylish skull is for good luck."

He made a bro-fist and pounded knuckles with the private.

"See you in the killzone!"

* * *

><p>Gobbi took cover behind some sandbags. Bradley's chopper had inserted them in a small side street in front of Riggs' hideout. Sure enough, armed insurgents had poured out and were firing on them. Things started to go south when they were fired upon from up above. He heard Crosby's voice on the radio.<p>

_"Shit! It's those Delta fucks! Martinez, Pineada, move in to flank left!"_

This could complicate shit, Gobbi thought to himself. He saw the three members of Delta Squad rappel down into the square close to the entrance. One of them, the dark-skinned soldier with an M249 SAW, leaped behind some sandbags and fired from cover. Two of his squad-mates were cut down by the incoming hail of bullets.

"_Where's all the violence coming from? Is it the videogames? I bet it's the videogames._"

Gobbi grinned, in spite of the morbid situation. The Radioman had a unique sense of humor. He heard Crosby's voice through the static of his radio.

_"That Darden is such a prick. I don't know what the colonel saw in him."_

The private grinned.

"Oh come on sarge, he ain't that bad. You just gotta get to know him."

_"Fat chance. I'll follow orders and protect him, but that doesn't mean I have to like him."_

Gobbi looked up and saw the Delta commander take cover behind a HUMVEE.

"I've got a bead on their leader, I'm taking the shot!"

There was an edge of emotion in Crosby's voice on the radio.

_"Wait! Pete, don't! Private Gobbi that Walker is a dangerous customer you stay in cover and we'll out flank him. That's an order, stop!"_

But the private had already left cover and was firing off a burst at Walker's position. Suddenly he heard the Delta leader say the dreaded words.

"Sticky grenade away!"

Gobbi already turned to run back to cover, but he felt something hit his back. He panicked, trying to reach behind himself.

"Get it off me! For Christ's sake get it off me before it goes!"

He didn't hear Sgt. Crosby cry out a loud "No!", Gobbi didn't even feel pain, like he was afraid he would. One moment he was on the ground panicking, the next he found himself in a white light. He looked down and saw he still had his kit, and still had his weapon. He looked back up and saw a tall, lithe figure in the light.

It was a she, and she had long, flowing green hair and eyes that matched. Her garment was made of some translucent material like muslin or silk, and an unseen wind tousled the skirt to reveal a slender bare leg. He caught himself staring and looked back up to her face. She was beautiful, and she also appeared to be amused at his ogling.

**_"Private Peter Gobbi, the noble soul who just wanted to help, to be the hero. But Fate had other plans, and would have left you dying alone and buried in some sand-ridden hell."_**

Gobbi awkwardly removed his helmet.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. And I apologize for admiring the scenery, it's just that it's been so long since I've been seen, ah, well you know."

The lady put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled.

**_"I can see why he counts you as such a close friend, Peter Gobbi. To answer the question you were about to ask I am the Weaver of Fate, I pluck threads about to be cut from tapestries and weave them into other tapestries where they can alter the pattern for the better."_**

Something she said clicked in Gobbi's mind.

"Wait, you mean you know the sarge? When did he buy it?"

She nodded.

**_"I do know your friend Robert Crosby, I had woven a new pattern in a new tapestry for him and am guiding him on his journey to redemption. In my realm there is no past or future, there is only the here and now."_**

"How can you do that?"

She smiled.

**_"Magic. In the Celestial Empyrean which is my domain I can weave any pattern in any number of tapestries. So I ask you, what is your heart's desire, Pete Gobbi?"_**

He scratched his head.

"Well, I'd really like to go wherever ol' sarge Crosby went."

The Weaver of Fate seemed think it over, and then slowly shook her head.

**_"Regretfully that Tapestry already has a hero, but there is another tapestry, a place where your warrior's heart can achieve great things, a place where you can defeat a great evil and become the hero. If you accomplish this, I will give you what you wish for."_**

Gobbi stood at attention and saluted the lady.

"You can count on me! Private First Class Pete Gobbi, awaiting orders ma'am!"

The lady smiled again, and slowly approached him. When she was very close to him Gobbi started to get nervous. He was sweating, which was an odd thing given where he was, and when her face was inches away from hers he closed his eyes. He felt soft lips on his own and heard her voice speak.

**_"Welcome to your new adventure, Pete Gobbi, and your quest to become the Hero!"_**

_(AN: I'm leaving off where Gobbi is going because I haven't quite decided where to send him. I don't want to send him to MLP:FIM's Equestria, but I've narrowed it down to a couple of choices. Anyone who has a particular idea or want feel free to comment or PM me._

_ I always pictured Gobbi to be one of these tall, lanky youthful types, and in intel item where he is being interviewed by the Radioman he has some sort of Kentucky or Tennessee twang to his accent. This is a one-shot for now, depending on what happens with the sequel I may or may not turn Gobbi's story into a full-blown epic like Zulu Squad No Tsukaima, but I wanted to get closure for Crosby's friend.)_


	45. The Human Factor, Part Deux

_(AN: And here's the second part, we find out where Pvt. Gobbi ends up. And I very sorry for dithering so much on the storyline, the chapter detailing the war effort is ballooning into an enormous chapter. I should have it done some time next week. In the meantime enjoy this extra bit of fluff.)_

Gobbi's eyes opened with a start, and then shut them again. The sunlight was too bright. He sat up and opened his eyes again, this time shading them. He was in a forest of some sort, so wherever this was it certainly wasn't Dubai. He looked down and saw that he still had his kit and his M4 rifle in a sling. He looked around and let out a low whistle. Everything about the forest was so vivid that it almost didn't seem real, like it was some elaborate painting. He heard birds chirping and looked up. He hadn't seen birds since he was deployed, and nothing but crows survived the sandstorm in Dubai. He noticed other critters were scampering about, including a squirrel. He smiled to himself at the recollection of his cousin who hunted and barbequed squirrels back home.

Something seemed odd about the animals in the forest. For one thing, they were very expressive. He swore that one of the squirrels was staring at him like it was frightened of him. Then without warning a covey of birds swooped down and started pecking at him. He tried to swat them off, they weren't much of a threat since he still had his helmet, goggles and balaclava on, but he still backed off. He was too distracted by the birds to notice the overgrown tree root sticking out of the ground behind him. Or the cliff behind it. He tripped over the stump and fell head over heads down the steep hill, hitting branches that slowed his fall, until he hit something and fell through it. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed that what he fell through was a thatched roof. And he was sitting in some sort of easy chair. A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ah, there you are my boy, you made it."

* * *

><p>"…One big medieval mess, bah!"<p>

The old wizard finished his rant by slamming the door to his cottage. As he poured the frest water into the kettle, he calmed down.

"Now then, let's see…"

He pulled out a pocket watch.

"He should be here in, oh I'd say about five minutes."

"Who?"

A brown tufted owl hooted at the wizard. The old wizard finished setting the extra teacup and saucer on the table and adjusted the guest chair while looking up at the ceiling.

"I told you, Archimedes, I'm not sure. All I know is that someone will be coming, someone very important."

As he adjusted the table he continued, as if he were conversing with his owl.

"Fate has weaved a new pattern for this person in her Tapestry, and will direct him to me, and I in turn shall guide him to his rightful place in this world."

Satisfied, he went back to his own chair and lit his pipe. The owl had a look of disbelief on its face.

"Oh, come on Archimedes, you'll see. He'll be ah…a boy, a lad of about twenty…"

As he spoke the large cloud of smoke shifted, and coalesced into a scene of battle, where strange men were wearing woven armor wielding pikes that spat fire.

"…He'll come from a distant far off land, a land of sand and strife…"

As the wizard spoke a large man in black and white armor walked past.

"Oh, no, no, no, that can't be the boy, surely not! That chap looks to be in his thirties at least."

The image shifted over to a younger man wearing armor the color of mottled sand. The wizard chuckled.

"Ah, there he is, the gangly young lad of about twenty."

The young man in the odd clothes stood up and fire issued from the pike he was holding (a rifle, the wizard corrected himself), and sudden there was a bright flash. As if on cue there was a loud crash and someone came tumbling through the ceiling and right into the guest chair. It was the very lad he was talking about.

"Ah, there you are, my boy. You've made it!"

Private Gobbi pulled down his balaclava and stared. He couldn't believe it. Sitting in an easy chair across the table from him was the owner of the cottage whose roof he just fell through. An old man with a long white beard and a blue conical hat, he looked very familiar. The old man pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it again.

"Oh dear, you're a bit late, you know."

"Say what, sir?"

The old man pointed to his watch.

"You're about a minute late, not that it matters."

Gobbi disentangled his M4 from its sling and leaned it against the chair.

"Well, I apologize for being late; I was attacked by some testy forest critters."

The old man shook his head.

"Oh, I wouldn't take it personally, young man. The creatures of the forest were just scared of you. Your face coverings don't exactly make a good impression in these parts."

Gobbi looked around.

"Speaking of which, sir, where's here?"

The old man stood up.

"Oh dear me, where are my manners? My name is Merlin and you are?"

Gobbi was in shock by the old man's admission, which the old man took for hesitation.

"Come, come, my lad, don't be shy. Who are you, my lad?"

"Private First Class Pete Gobbi, sir."

The private belted out his name and rank mechanically as he was still trying to process what he just heard. The old man chuckled again.

"My, my, that's quite a mouthful there. Do you go by Peter or Pete?"

"Um, Pete's fine, sir. Only my mom and Mrs. Tingle in the 4th grade called me Peter."

Gobbi looked around the room and saw an brown owl.

"Huh, you got a stuffed owl? My cousin did taxidermy too."

The owl sprang to life, but that alone wasn't what shocked the private.

"Humph! Stuffed? Why, the very idea!"

The owl spoke! Gobbi shook his head.

"Kerrist on a Kawasaki! This is nuts!"

The old man, Merlin glanced up.

"Oh, don't be too hard on Archimedes, he's just a little grouchy this morning. Always gets that way when he's been out all night hunting."

Gobbi continued to stare at the little house where the owl had retreated to in a huff.

"Um, sir?"

"I told you lad, it's Merlin, there's no need to be so formal."

"Huh? Oh, right, um, Merlin, can I ask a wild ass question?"

"By all means, young man, ask away."

"And don't take this the wrong way, but are you some kinda magic wielder type? Y'know, abracadabra, rabbit out of the hat, Dumbledore stuff?"

Merlin chuckled.

"Oh, yes I did read those books, delightful fluffy stuff. Got the magic all wrong, but then again what do you expect from muggles?"

He cleared his throat and straightened up.

"You are quite correct, my lad. I am a wizard, a soothsayer! A prognosticator! I have the power to see into the future! Centuries into the future!"

He glanced down at Gobbi's rifle and kit.

"I've even been there, lad. Let's see, based off your clothing I would say you're from the early 21st century military…hmmm..United States Army, and…judging from the insignia...the ill-fated 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion? Also known colloquially and somewhat ironically as the 'Damned 33rd?"

Gobbi nodded.

"Nailed it, sir. So you mean you can see everything before it happens?"

The wizard nodded.

"Yes, everything!"

A third voice spoke up, and the owl poked its head out of its house.

"Uh-uh-uh-uh! 'Everything,' Merlin?"

Merlin appeared flustered.

"Uh, uh... No, no, not 'everything'."

He shrugged.

"I, uh, I admit I didn't know whom to expect for tea, but as you can see.."

He pointed his staff to the hole in the roof where Gobbi fell through."

"I figured the exact place!"

He looked back to the private, who was staring at him.

"Erm, listen young man, I understand this must be a whole lot for you to take in."

Gobbi shook his head.

"Sir, with all due respect, if a week ago someone told me that I'd be in a weird world of medieval magic, with a wizard sporting a beard that would make Billy Gibbons envious, and a talking owl, I'd have called bullshit."

He shrugged.

"But here recently a few things have happened that have broadened my horizons, so to speak."

The wizard smiled conspiratorially.

"Ah, you are of course referring to the Weaver of Fate?"

Gobbi looked surprised.

"you know her?"

"Well, not precisely. We've cross paths on a few occasions. Delightful lady and very knowledgeable. I take it she told you why she sent you here?"

"Yup, she said she was sending me to a place where I could be the hero."

Merlin smiled.

"Ah, yes, that you will, my boy."

"So what exactly does that entail, sir?"

"Oh just the usual things; lots of adventures, travel to exotic lands, save a princess or two, and eventually slay the dragon. All standard hero's tale stuff."

The wizard sat down and poured some tea.

"But first we must have a bite to eat and some tea. No adventure should begin on an empty stomach."

_(AN: Yeah, I know it's corny to put Gobbi in the Disney-verse. But it was either that or stick Gobbi in MLP:FIM, and I don't think he deserved that. As stated in the first part this might turn into a full-blown story, if there is enough interest. But not until this story is finished. _

_Anyways I hope this little interlude showing the fate of Crosby's friend amused you, it relieved enough of the writer's cramp so I can now focus on the 'war effort' chapter, which should be up by the end of the week. Weekend, tops.)_


	46. Heavy Arms Marksman

_(AN: Well, a six hour layover in DFW means that I churned this chapter out quicker than I thought. Enjoy!)_

After lunch Gordon escorted the princess and her visitors to the east wing of the palace.

"We requisitioned this area for the war effort production."

The lieutenant explained to the princess. He gestured to two large barred doors in front of which were four royal guards.

"Since our last conversation over three weeks ago we have come up with working prototypes of two different types of firearms. The guards are actually issued with some of the first production models."

He nodded to one of the guards.

"Soldier, may I see your weapon?"

The guard looked over to Henrietta, and then reluctantly offered his rifle as he were offering the lieutenant his firstborn son. Crosby stared at the rifle. It bore a slight resemblance to the long barreled muskets that the Royal Guards were brandishing on their last visit to the palace. His thoughts were interrupted by Gordon continuing to speak.

"This is a single-shot breach loading rifle. It weighs slightly less than four kilograms loaded without a bayonet, which makes it over a kilo lighter than its Tristainian musket counterpart. By having it as a cartridge breach loader it has reduced loading times to 5-10 seconds between shots. In contrast Chevalier Agnès' best musketeer takes approximately 45 seconds between shots to load their muskets."

He paused to let that sink in.

"It means that our troops when equipped with this rifle can pull off at least four times as many shots with a cartridge as the Reconquista troops can with a musket ball. That makes a huge difference. Speaking of which…"

He pulled a small lever on the underside of the rifle's metal receiver, ejecting a brass cartridge.

"This cartridge uses a refined version of the blackpowder used in the muskets to reduce the amount of smoke discharged per shot. We have professor Colbert's notes to thank for that."

He tapped the round-nosed tip of the bullet.

"The bullet itself is a .577 soft hollow-based lead round, loosely based off the Tristainian musket balls. The hollow base allows for a larger spread on impact to inflict the maximum amount of damage."

Crosby noticed the princess and Louise blanche at Lt. Gordon's casual reference to the bloody carnage the bullet would inflict upon its victim. The lieutenant placed the cartridge through a small opening in the breach and snapped the level back into the locked position.

"Having a bullet in a cartridge with a significantly stronger powder charge behind said bullet has increased the rifle's range to over one thousand meters, effectively doubling the range from its Tristainian musket counterpart."

"The cartridge was originally a rolled brass cartridge, however in test-firing we found that it had a tendency to jam because of the softness and thinness of the cartridge walls. Thanks to a process we call drawing or stamping, we have successfully made stronger cartridges."

He handed the rifle back to the guard and nodded to Konrad, who pushed open the doors.

"Your highness, Miss Valliere, gentlemen: welcome to our factory."

Immediately they were hit by a huge cacophony of metal being beaten, cut, shaped and shaved. The East wing at one point was a series of five large ballrooms, but all the walls were knocked down and all the precious marble had been pulled up and rough wooden planks had been laid down it its stead; creating one massive open space. On the far end a water-wheel powered conveyor held metal parts that were still steaming. The colonel pointed a doorway on the far end that glowed orange and radiated heat.

"In that room we have our coal-fired furnace where we have our smelting operations. That is where iron, raw steel, old weapons, et cetera are placed in ladles and melted down where they are subjected to open air oxidation. In our world a man called Henry Bessemer used this process to product a superior quality of steel. The melted steel is then poured into molds that shape the metal into gun parts."

He gestured to the water-wheel powered conveyor.

"That conveyor belt carries the parts to our factory floor, where they are line-assembled."

Henrietta stared at the intricate workings of the manufacturing process.

"This is amazing, John!"

She then noticed some of her entourage looking shocked, and she quickly corrected herself.

"That is to say, Colonel Konrad your contribution to the war effort is most commendable."

Konrad smiled.

"It took a hundred blacksmiths and carpenters two weeks working 'round the clock to create this infrastructure, you should probably be thanking them."

He turned to one of the tables where artisans, craftsmen and blacksmith working on the firearms in various stages. Konrad paused at one table and picked up a small shorter rifle.

"This short-barreled rifle is a copy of the shotgun I demonstrated to you. It is chambered in the same caliber as the long rifle with one exception."

He picked up a brass cartridge that was sitting on the workbench. This cartridge had no visible bullet and was perfectly cylindrical.

"The cartridge manufactured for this gun fires a grapeshot round designed to be lethal at distances up to ten meters, ideally suited for close quarter combat."

He actuated the pump action.

"Like the version my soldiers have, this has a pump action that manually chambers each round. It holds five shots, which can be fired in rapid succession and are an idea replacement for the short-range blunderbusses and arquebuses. Because it is a repeating shot, it has the same advantages over the muskets that the breach-loading rifle."

Gordon gestured to an older bespectacled gentleman with a large grey mustache.

"This is Monsieur Henri Martini, a clockmaker by trade. It was his expertise that helped us refine the cocking mechanism of the breach-loading rifles. Because of that, we are calling the prototypes the Henri-Martini rifles."

He noticed Crosby and the other soldiers snicker. The princess and Louise just looked perplexed. Henrietta spoke up over the din of pounding metal.

"How many guns have you created so far?"

Konrad stepped up.

"Initially we created thirty rifles and twenty pump-action close quarter weapon prototypes from scratch."

He pointed to the far end of the room.

"Thanks to our assembly line manufacturing process we hope to have five hundred of each completed and tested by the end of the month. If we can acquire more raw materials such as steel and wood, we can ramp up to five hundred rifles a week with twenty-four hour shifts. In addition, we have several mages working to produce more gunpowder for the war effort."

He motioned the group to follow him outside into a small courtyard. There a firing range had been set up with targets at various distances. Rows upon rows of guards were lined up and firing at the targets. Private Walker was standing off to the side, back to wearing his stained ACU's and shouting out commands. Gordon spoke up.

"Your highness, our own soldiers are training your Royal Guards and Royal Musketeer Guard to fire and clean these rifles, once they have been sufficiently trained we will task them with training your rank-and file commoner soldiers."

He was interrupted by a loud explosion that left less experienced ears ringing. Immediately Gordon rushed over and threw open a set of side doors. There were some of the palace's old siege cannons, one of which was smoldering with three guards covered in soot looking dumbly at the cannon.

"You idiots! How many times do I have to tell you, secure the gun carriage before firing!"

He dope-slapped the leader.

"We are giving a tour right now and your incompetence could blow her Highness to smithereens! Do you want that soldier?"

The leader looked mortified and immediately dropped to one knee.

"M-my apologies, your Highness! Please forgive my incompetence."

Before the princess could respond the lieutenant gave him an unceremonious kick in the rump.

"Eighty-six the groveling, you're still under my command whilst in training. Now clean this mess up and secure that cannon."

He turned back to Henrietta, who had an amused expression on her.

"For the record he couldn't have blown you up, your Highness. If you instill the right amount of fear in training it makes them all the more meticulous. And that leads to fewer mistakes."

He gestured to the cannons.

"As you might have heard, we are retrofitting the palace's old siege cannons into anti-aircraft, or in this case, anti-airship or other airborne critter guns. Using the same breach-loading mechanism as on the Henri-Martini rifle, this baby can hurl a 40mm mortar almost three klicks away."

Gordon picked up one of the shells.

"These babies use a timed fuse that upon detonation will send hundreds of red-hot metal fragments in all directions; basically making a bad day for anything that's flying in the vicinity."

Konrad spoke up.

"Speaking of prototypes, we are working on a personal multi-shot black powder weapon, based off some black powder revolvers from our world."  
>He walked over to something covered in a canvas tarp.<p>

"This is something that if we can produce it in mass quantities could be a game changer in the war effort."

He pulled the tarp back, and there was what looked like a six barreled cannon with a hand crank on the breach and a rectangular hopper on the top of the receiver.

"This," Konrad said, beaming with pride, "is the primitive cousin of that repeating machine gun on Lt. Bowles' airship. It is a hand-cranked six barreled gun that can fire in theory up to one hundred rounds per minute. However, since it is hand-cranked it is limited by the amount of ammunition on hand and the gun operator."

Henrietta was fascinated by it.

"What have you called this weapon?"

Konrad smiled.

"Your majesty, we call this weapon the Gatling gun."

_(AN: Well, I was originally going to bumper the awkward reunion with Radioman and Lugo/Crosby after this, but the introduction of the Gatling gun seemed like a nice break off point. I'd like to thank AznMagicman for his help and input in Industrial Revolution weapons manufacturing processes, hope you enjoyed the gun porn. Next chapter will be the Awkward Reunion, part Deux, and after that our oversized Large Ham Lizard will make another appearance. Should have both chapters up by the end of the weekend.)_


	47. An Awkward Reunion, Part Deux

_(AN: And here's the second part of Awkward Reunion! I apologize for it being a short chapter, but this wraps up the 'Awkward Reunion' arc. Like I said I was going to bumper it up against the last chapter, but it just didn't mesh with the flow.)_

As Gordon escorted the group back to the main wing of the palace, Crosby looked up at one of the towers.

"Sir, is that the Radioman's new digs?"

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yep, that's where he's been holed up since his arrival a few days ago. You want to go say hi? The princess is inviting us to stay for dinner."

Crosby shook his head.

"Not really, but I'm curious to see his setup. And if that means putting up with that prick…"

* * *

><p>"We are coming to you live and local right here in Tristainia. And to any Reconquista spies out there lurking in the shadows, we got your number, Jack!"<p>

Darden flipped a switch on his set up and set down his headphones as 80's music played. He swiveled around in his chair to greet the newcomers.

"Hey, hey, Gordon, what's up?"

Gordon grinned and set a tray of food on the table next to his radio equipment.

"Nothing much, you missed lunch so I had the cooks bring you some food."

He turned to Crosby.

"I really have to get back to training the Royal Guard, but try and join us for dinner, okay?"

Darden grinned.

"Yeah, it was a real pity I couldn't rub elbows with the kid's talking kitchen utensil."

He watched the lieutenant leave, and then looked over to Saito.

"How was dinner, McPherson?"

"Stuff it, Darden."

"Hey, like I said, keep the language down bub, we've got polite company here."

He looked down at Louise.

"So, you must be the little walking IED everybody was talking about."

The pinkette said nothing but turned to Crosby.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby, is this the Jester you spoke up?"

Crosby nodded.

"Yep, that's him in the flesh."

Before Darden could say anything more, the pinkette lashed out and kicked him in the groin. His face contorted as he fell to his knees and let out a high-pitched squeak. Louise turned on her heels with a huff.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby, I find the company in this room disgusting. I am leaving to converse with her majesty Princess Henrietta."

She looked over her shoulder as she paused in the doorway.

"Please look after my familiar, and when you are done with this-"

She made a distasteful gesture towards Darden, still on his knees.

"-come find me in Henrietta's chambers."

Crosby grinned and made a sweeping bow.

"As my lady commands."

When the pinkette left he turned back to Darden. The man was slowly starting to move. Lugo bent over the Radioman, still grinning like Crosby.

"I should have warned you, dude. There's a reason Pinkie has the nickname of walking IED. She's got a hair-trigger temper. You okay?"

Darden nodded, and slowly pulled himself to his feet with Lugo's help. Still unsteady on his feet after the groin attack, he leaned against Lugo. Suddenly he reached out and pulled the Delta sniper's M9 pistol out of its holster and whipped the butt across Lugo's face, sending him reeling to the floor. Before anyone could react Darden pointed the gun at him.

"Wow, that was easier than I expected."

He grinned wolfishly at the downed Delta sniper.

"Thanks."

Before he could pull the trigger someone grabbed him from behind and had him in a chock hold. The same person applied pressure to his wrist and made him lose his grip on the pistol, making it clatter to the floor. In spite of his predicament Darden grinned.

"Well, let's see, this must be the party-pooper who ruined my fantasy football league in Dubai."

He struggled against Crosby's grip, but the erstwhile reporter turned radio DJ was no match for the Zulu Squad sergeant in terms of strength.

"Knock it off, Darden. Lugo's part of the team now."

Darden tried to reach behind him to get at Crosby, to no avail.

"I'm curious why you're giving this guy a pass. He killed all your buddies. Hell, he shot me in cold blood after I surrendered."

Crosby looked over to Lugo, who was bleeding from the temple courtesy of the pistol whipping. Saito was looking after him. He kicked the handgun over to him, and the teenager retrieved it and handed it back to Lugo. A thought came to Crosby.

"I've had time to give it some thought. I'm willing to forgive and forget, you should as well, Darden. Or should I call you Merry Maker?"

That got Darden's attention, and the man immediately stopped struggling and froze.

"W-where did you hear that?"

Crosby released him and Darden turned around to stare at the Zulu Squad sergeant. He smirked at the Radioman.

"Take a wild guess. I'll give you a hint; she had long green hair, she's very pretty, and she's the reason we're all here. And as of late she has been making regular guest appearances in my dreams to help me on my quest to become a hero."

When Darden didn't respond he continued.

"She sends her regards, by the way. She also says that she's keeping an eye on you so you better be good for goodness' sake."

Darden paused for a moment, and then walked over to where Lugo was. Saito looked concerned, but the sniper waved him away and accepted Darden's outstretched hand.

"No hard feelings, Lugo. Let's just let bygones be bygones, kay?"

Lugo nodded and touched the side of his head.

"Fair enough. If nothing else your little ambush of a stone-cold rugged Delta operator is kind of embarrassing."

He shook his head grinning.

"To think I was blindsided by a geek with an IPod."

Darden shared the laugh.

"Well, now that we've had our awkward family reunion, lemme give you a nickel tour of the new digs."

He waved his hands over to the radio equipment.

"This stuff should look familiar to you, Lugo."

The sniper stared at it.

"So she sent you to Helkeginia with all this stuff?"

Darden nodded.

"Yep, and a Fontaine Cola vending machine, which unfortunately I had to leave behind in Albion. Here's hoping this war ends soon so I can get it back. These mages suck at reproducing soft drinks."

He then tapped a few buttons on the console, and a bunch of speakers appeared out of thin air, hovering above them.

"These you probably have already seen."

Crosby pointed to them.

"So how the hell did you get the speakers to hover like that, and more importantly how did you get them to disappear and reappear at will?"

Darden rotated in his chair and pointed to a large crystal ball on the corner of the table. When Crosby stared into it, he could see himself and the others, it was a like Predator drone feed.

"That scrying stone was a gift from one of my anti-Reconquista noble buddies. He's the one who set me up in his castle in Northern Albion. That stone, I think he called it a palantír, or something, allows me to see long distances through the speakers and even allows me to communicate."

He grinned at Lugo.

"Hence the trolling, pedobear."

Lugo smirked and lightly slapped the Radioman.

"Like I told sarge, Siesta is 18."

Darden shrugged.

"Hey, it's not like we're in a movie or something. So, as I was saying, this stone allows me to control the speakers, and also see where they go."

He shrugged.

"Of course a lot of this stuff I'm still trying to figure out."

He noticed the incredulous look that both Saito and the Zulu Squad sergeant were giving him.

"Hey, I know this sounds like bad magical techno-babble, like I said I just use it I don't know really how it works."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. A servant bearing the royal livery opened the door.

"My apologies to the Jester of Albion for interrupting his work, but her majesty Princess Henrietta wishes to invite you to dinner, which will be served in ten minutes."

Crosby nodded.

"Tell her highness and Louise that we will be joining her shortly."

The servant bowed and left the room. Darden yawned and sat back down in his chair, and started attacking the food on the tray.

"Welp, I've got the 5 0'clock Free Ride Commercial Free Rush Hour to do, so you'll forgive me if I don't join you guys for dinner."

He massaged his crotch gingerly.

"I don't think my nads can stand another encounter with your pink-haired walking IED. But give her my regards, kay?"

_(AN: Like I said, a short chapter, but now everybody is one big happy family, right? Right. __I have also stubbed out the next __chapter, which will take us back to Albion, with more sinister goings on going on with the Reconquista_, and have another appearance of our favorite Large Ham reptile_. Should have it up by the end of the week.)_


	48. Dark Awakening

"You let him get away?"

Cromwell backhanded the unlucky noble and bearer of bad news. He advanced on the man sprawled out on the ground, but Sir Percival placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Peace Cromwell, let the man speak."

The noble pulled himself to his feet and nursed the cut on his lip.

"W-we had the castle surrounded on all sides, there was no chance of escape. We were going to wait until nightfall to storm the castle, but then there was a loud noise, and we saw an airship being held aloft by spinning blades, and it took the Jester away from us."

"Idiot!"

Cromwell shook his friend's hand off his shoulder.

"The Jester was more than just a commoner criminal, he was a political enemy and his capture would have added legitimacy to the republic's new regime! While he is still free he can cause havoc."

His rant was interrupted by the arrival of two cloaked figures. He turned his back to the stricken noble.

"Get out of my sight, and be thankful I am in a generous mood."

As soon as the noble scurried out of the room the hooded pair approached Cromwell.

"Is everything prepared?"

The first cloaked figure stepped forward and threw her hood back.

"Everything is ready, we merely await your audience."

She turned to the second figure.

"She acquired the object you asked for."

The second figure threw back her hood, revealing the thief Fouquet. Out of the folds of her cloak she produced a small ring and held it out in her bandaged hand.

"It was not easy stealing this item, and that damned water spirit almost caught me. What I want to know is, why is this so important?"

Cromwell took the ring.

"This is a very powerful ring and it will be instrumental in our fight against Tristain."

Sheffield spoke up.

"Did our…benefactor mention what this ring could do?"

Sir Percival snorted.

"What is wrong Sheffield, don't want to say his name out loud? We are aligning ourselves to him, so why not? Or would you rather call him 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?'"

She glared at him.

"I think that a man in your position should learn his place. The fact that you are constantly brown-nosing the leader of the Reconquista does not grant you complete immunity."

Cromwell sighed.

"Enough, the both of you."

He turned to Sheffield.

"I appreciate Sir Percival's input and he has been a staunch supporter and benefactor of our cause since the beginning. I also don't appreciate it when you pursue your own agenda in the name of the Reconquista."

He turned to Percival.

"But Sheffield does have a point, we've already had this discussion about our benefactor and we need his power."

He looked down at the ring.

"Lord Alduin said that this ring holds the key to destroying Tristain once and for all."

The Londinium clock tower struck the hour. He placed the ring in his pocket.

"It is time, send word to the others to meet at the usual place."

* * *

><p>In the same darkened cavern there was the firestone crystal glowing blood red. In the center of the room the throne was missing and in its place was a stone slab, chained to it was an older man covered in scars and bruises. The cloaked figures approached him, and their leader removed his mask to speak.<p>

"Well met, Cardinal Halstaff. I trust you are finding your accommodations to your satisfaction?"

The old man glared at Cromwell.

"Oliver you damned fool! The Romalian court will hear of this! Pope Vittorio is not a man to cross!"

Cromwell smiled.

"My dear Cardinal Halstaff, you should have thought about the consequences to your actions when you consorted with the Jester, a known enemy of the state, and handing the poor Prince Wales over to Tristainian assassins."

The cardinal scoffed.

"You can lie to yourself and your minions, Cromwell, but you cannot lie to me. Prince Wales died by Count Wardes' hand, and he was a known Reconquista collaborator-"

His rant was cut short by Cromwell backhanding him.

"Lies!" he spat. "You try to cover your treachery with lies! For your crimes against the Republic I find you guilty of treason and complicity in the death of Prince Wales. I sentence you to death."

The old man laughed, in spite of his situation.

"You? Sentence me to death? What sort of jester's court is this, that can be judge, jury and executioner? I answer to His Holiness Pope Vittorio, and Brimir Himself. Not to the likes of you."

Cromwell stepped forward and with a small ornate knife slashed the cardinal's bound hand. Blood oozed from his wound, and the firestone crystal's glow intensified. Suddenly a beam of light stabbed outward from the crystal, piercing Halstaff. He screamed in pain, and his screams intensified and his body began to convulse, his skin blistered and peeled off. There was an explosion of blood that painted the floor and walls. Finally his cries died out, and there was nothing left but a smoking husk. The smell of charred flesh permeated the cavernous room, and one lone figure slipped away, retching.

The firestone crystal glowed more intensely and there was the same sinister, rasping voice that issued from it.

**"So it beginsss and the firssssst stepsss to my return have begun. You have my thankssssss."**

Cromwell held out the ring.

"I have retrived the ring you required, but how can this bauble help us conquer Tristain?"

There was a gust of wind that blew through the cavern, and something that sounded like a snort.

**"Pahlok joorre! Foolissssh little man! Hin kah fen kos bonaar…your arrogance will be your own downfall. I am granting thisssss boon to you to help with your petty little war because it will assissssst in my return."**

The ring began to glow, and suddenly there was a burst of light, and a familiar figure appeared through the light. Cromwell couldn't believe his eyes.

"P-prince Wales?"

The voice in the crystal spoke.

**"Ssssso easily impresssssed, little man. Di kiirre fen alok! The dead will arise with the power of this ring. He is but a pawn, use him well. Remember not to fail me, for I will be most disssspeased if you do."**

The prince took a step forward, and spoke in a monotone voice.

"I will serve the Reconquista, and the new Republic of Albion. All who oppose the new republic will die by my hand."

Cromwell issued the resurrected prince out, and the others followed. When it was empty the cavernous room echoed with the same voice.

**"Foolssss, a foolish little man who only sees what is right in from of him, a liar blinded by her own ambition and greed and a thief who issssss blinded by her…mmmm…blinded by her hatred…she hassss potential, that one. All desire power, yet if they knew of my planssss they would not be so eager to barter. "**

The red light within the crystal flared up lighting the entire space from ceiling to floor.

**_"_****Daar Lein los dii! This world will be mine! Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan! And those who will not bow to me shall be devoured!_"_ **

The cavern echoed with the sounds of evil laughter.

_(AN: Way to go Cromwell, you're one step closer to unleashing an all-powerful immortal dragon with an appetite for entire worlds onto Helkeginia. Give the man a kewpie doll._

_So Cromwell has officially passed the moral event horizon by delving into human sacrifice. To say nothing of horrid interior decorating skills. Arterial Red is soooo early 90's._

_GET ON WITH IT!  
>*ahem*<em>

_So, now another plot twist, Prince Wales is back, but as a pawn of the Reconquista! This will complicate things in Tristainia and it ain't gonna be pretty. He might even shipwreck the shipping of Konrad and Henrietta. _

_*Cha-Chuck!*_

_Moving right along…next chapter takes us back to the merry band of misfits in Tristain, and will also have a shout-out to a fellow fanfic writer's fic. Should be up by the weekend.)_


	49. Buried Treasure

_"Ladies and gentlemen this is your pilot Lt. Bowles speaking, we are on our way to the Tristain Academy of Magic, with a brief layover at the Charming Fairies Inn for a Miller Time break, because nothing helps a pilot focus better on flying a complex contraption like having a bit of blood in his alcohol stream. I should take this time to point out that Tristainian Airlines is not responsible for lost luggage or limbs due to pilot error. While we welcome our passenger's input the complaint department is closed. And as always, thank you for flying Tristainian Airlines!"_

Crosby looked over at the lieutenant from his position in the copilot's chair and grinned. It was morning and the sun was shining bright, and the mood inside the Little Bird reflected that. Over dinner at the palace Konrad was very interested to hear about the discoveries Colbert had made, and that they had pinpointed the location of the 'Steel Dragon'. It was decided that they would set out for the desert in a couple of days, giving everyone enough time to round up the necessary supplies and tie off loose ends. They were stopping at the inn for lunch and to debrief Tebby.

When the chopper touched down by the barn behind the inn, Crosby was the first to exit. Truth be told, he was feeling peckish and thirsty. Getting regular chow and liquids will do that to a soldier. When he entered the tavern he was rushed by the blonde and chestnut-haired barmaids, who paused and looked up at him. They looked Crosby up and down and then looked behind him. The blonde, Marlène, turned and whispered something to Lt. Bowles, who grinned.

"What's so funny, lieutenant?"

"Oh, nothing. Marlène and Jeanne here were wondering where the pretty boy with the beautiful blue eyes went."

Crosby shook his head.

"And what did you tell her?"

"Nothing, I figured you could do the honors."

He glared at Bowles.

"You're evil."

He turned back to the two barmaids, who were looking at him expectantly.

"Um, ladies the young man in question whom you were looking for is…has gone away…to help with the war effort. I don't think he'll be coming back anytime soon."

He noticed the crestfallen look on their faces.

"He did tell me to tell you both that he enjoyed your company immensely and had a great time."

That brightened them up, and they skipped off giggling. Bowles came up beside Crosby.

"I guess Lugo was right, the Grinch's heart has grown a couple of sizes since he ended up here."

Crosby grinned.

"I'm guessing it's something in the water. Speaking of which…"

At the bar Lugo and Crosby enjoyed a tankard of ale, while Bowles debriefed Tebby on what went on at the palace.

"You're shitting me, you mean the Radioman provoked the pinkette?"

Bowles nodded.

"Yep, and she kicked him right in the nads, just ask Crosby."

Crosby leaned over.

"You really should have seen the look on his face after her dainty foot made contact, it was just like in the cartoons."

Music blared on the other side of the tavern, the chestnut-haired barmaid, Jeanne, was singing a karaoke version of 'Call Me Maybe'. Crosby shook his head and chuckled.

"What's the joke, sarge?"

He looked up at Lugo.

"There was this jarhead I knew back in Dubai, a corporal named Ross, I think, who had the mondo granddaddy of all crushes on Carly Rae Jepsen, the gal that sings this song. He had the lot; posters of her all over the wall by his rack, all her songs on his Ipod, and would play this song nonstop when we were billeted together."

Lugo emptied his tankard.

"Wait, there were Marines embedded with the 33rd?"

Crosby shook his head.

"They were part of some special Haz-Mat response team that showed up in Dubai before everything went to shit, to evaluate the storm and see if it was man-made."

He shook his head.

"Seemed fishy to me. Their CO was a real peckerwood, butted heads with Konrad's command staff on more than one or two occasions. Even got into a shouting match with the Old Man himself."

He took another sip from his ale.

"The kicker was the government honcho attached to the unit; he was some stuffed suit with a briefcase. Never said a word to anyone but he was always in all the debriefings. Gave me the creeps."

"What happened?" Lugo asked.

"Right before the storm wall got too bad, a covey Marine Ospreys showed up one morning and their CO informed us that they were evacuating their team and that we should do the same. It was more professional courtesy, because by that point it was clear to everyone that Konrad was going to defy the Pentagon's order to leave Dubai."

He looked down at his ale.

"Ross told me that there was some sort of 'incident' that happened at a government facility, some place called Black Mesa or something like that. Anyways nobody in the 33rd took up the CO's offer to evac with the Marines, so we stayed behind."

He shook his head.

"Sometimes I wonder what happened to those jarheads, I'm guessing they fared better than we did in Dubai."

He looked over to Bowles.

"What's our flight plan looking like?"

The lieutenant traced an invisible line on a map of the countryside.

"Well, the most direct route to the desert would be this…although Tebby and I probably should stop in Tarpes and have our mage contact make sure his replenishing spell on the fuel is still working. Don't want my 'Bird to be running on fumes over a large body of deep water."

One of the barmaids, a brunette with a kerchief and aquamarine eyes stopped and refilled their tankards.

"You are going to Tarpes? You should stop and say hello to my cousin's family there."

Saito, who had been sitting at a table with Louise, perked up.

"You mean Siesta's family is there?"

Jessica nodded.

"Yes, they are famous in that town for having a treasure trove the likes of which have never been seen."

Crosby could see the glitter in the teen's eyes. And the dirty look the pinkette was giving her familiar. The barmaid continued.

"By the way, Siesta told me that someone in your group was her boyfriend."

Lugo flushed bright red and suddenly seemed very interested in the bottom of his ale tankard.

"That would be me." He muttered.

Jessica smiled at him.

"She thinks the world of you, Mr. Lugo. That was a very brave thing you did rescuing her from that horrid Count Mott."

Lugo tried to shrug it off.

"Well, every guy should get to play the knight in shining armor at least once in their lives. I was just in the neighborhood."

Bowles grinned at the embarrassed Delta sniper.

"Yeah, I reckon it's about time to meet the parents, sergeant. Don't you think so?"

The sniper did a spit-take with his ale.

"Wait, what? That's a bit fast, don't you think?"

Bowles shook his head, laughing.

"Oh come on, don't tell me the ruggedly handsome and fearless Delta Operator is scared of meeting his future in-laws, is he?"

The barmaid smiled at the exchange and looked over to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"She thinks highly of you too, Sir Crosby. You should go and visit her family, they are very kind."

She finished pouring the last tankard.

"I have some dishes to clean up, but find me before you leave, alright darling?"

Jessica beamed at the lieutenant and gave him a peck on the cheek. After she left Crosby was still staring after her.

"First Lugo, then Alex, now you too, lieutenant? What is this place, the Love Boat?"

Now it was Bowles' turn to look embarrassed.

"Yeah, well, ah, you see sarge, when we first arrived here her dad kind of took us all in because we scared off some highwaymen that were terrorizing the tavern. And, well, she kinda took a shine to me, if you get my meaning."

Crosby shook his head.

"Sir, as long as it doesn't affect the mission I'm not one to judge. Although I'm beginning to think I really am in one of those 'harem shows', though."

_(AN: I know it's short, but I forgot this weekend was Easter and I'm going to be with family, so I'm splitting this chapter in two parts. I probably won't get a chance to proofread the next chapter until next week. And I couldn't leave you guys hanging, so I might *stress might* split it into three sections and have the next part up on Saturday, depending on how things go. Until then, hope you enjoyed, and kudos to anyone who gets the shout-out easter egg in this chapter.)_


	50. Buried Treasure, Part Deux

_(AN: Well, if I never see another Cadbury egg or peep again I shall be very happy *urp*._

_I was originally going to make Buried Treasure a two-parter but it ballooned up way bigger than I thought. So it's a three parter, but I think you'll like it. Enjoy!)_

Crosby opened his eyes, this time he was in a forest. He was sitting on the ground with his back to a large tree, the sun was shining through the canopy making the vivid green leaves shimmer like precious stones. He saw Tinúviel sitting next to him, her legs tucked up and resting her delicate chin on her knees.

"I like the new choice of venue, what's the occasion?"

She smiled at him.

**_"_****_I thought a change of scenery was in order. Something to break up the monotony that is your bedchambers."  
><em>**

He smiled at her little joke, but it wasn't genuine, and the Weaver caught onto it.

**_"_****_What troubles you, Robert Crosby?"_**

He shook his head.

"Sorry this damned upcoming war has everyone on edge, and I'm guessing it's affecting my sleep patterns."

Crosby took one of her hands and looked her in the eyes.

"Is this war even winnable? I mean, we have the edge on superior firepower, but even with that the estimates are that we're outnumbered ten to one. Makes for pretty lousy odds."

She squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

**_"_****_Even now you still worry about your charge and her friends. Fear not, for no harm will come to her."_**

"But will we win?" He persisted, and for a moment he thought he saw a shadow cross her radiant face.

**_"Tristain will survive and ultimately prevail, but victory will not be without costs. Such is the hell that is war."_**

Crosby nodded and leaned back.

"Fair enough. Neither me nor any of my buddies mind dying in this war, I just wouldn't want our deaths to be meaningless, like in Dubai."

The shadow passed, and she smiled again.

**_"_****_As I told you, there are difficult decisions that lie ahead, for both you and your companions, decisions that will affect not only you but the outcome of the war."_**

She stood up and pulled Crosby to his feet.

**_"But have no fear, I have absolute faith that you all will make the right choice."_**

Crosby was about to say something when an annoyingly familiar voice interrupted him.

"Sooo, this is you domain. Lothlórien, right? Man, the movies didn't even come close to getting this right."

Tinúviel folded her arms and had a neutral expression on her face.

"Actually, this realm 'tis but a shadow of Doriath."

The Radioman, who was wearing ridiculous Pokemon pajamas, was admiring a tree.

"Still, pretty fancy for a forest, dontcha think, sarge?"

Crosby glared at him.

"What the hell are you doing here, in my dreams, Darden?"

The Radioman shrugged and pointed to the Weaver.

"Ask your girlfriend, one moment I was having this super awesome dream involving Miley Cyrus and about 500 gallons of orange Jell-O, and next I'm here."

Crosby looked over to Tinúviel who was smiling, but it wasn't the same smile she had just given him minutes earlier, and she had a mischievous glint in her green eyes.

**_"_****_I brought you here to remind you of our agreement, Marion Robert Darden."_**

She looked over to Crosby.

**_"_****_You had asked me earlier, now I shall show you."_**

She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of smoke Darden disappeared and in his place was a purple pony with a green mane. It had a look of shock on its face and looked down at its rounded hooves.

"Oh crap! Not again!"

It sounded like Darden, but the voice was high and squeaky. Crosby couldn't help it, he laughed. He laughed so hard that he had to lean against the tree for support. When he regained his composure, he noticed that Tinúviel was also laughing but with more restraint.

"Come on, lady this isn't funny!"

She paused in her giggling to speak.

**_"_****_What in all the Celestial Empyrean do you mean, Merry Maker?"_**

And she broke out laughing again. That got Crosby's attention, and he spoke up in between his guffaws.

"Merry Maker? A pony? I get it!"

He turned to Tinúviel.

"But you forgot his cutie mark."

She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

**_"_****_Why Robert Crosby, you are correct, I have forgotten completely."_**

She snapped her fingers again and there on the pony's flank appeared a jester. The ridiculous sight of Darden, aka Merry Maker craning his neck around to stare at the image on his flank was too much, and Crosby doubled over with laughter. The pony spoke up in its squeaky voice.

"Alright, alright, lady you win, I'm sorry and I promise to be a good boy. Now please turn me back and return me to my Jell-O wrestling fantasy."

Tinúviel was still giggling and didn't respond, but snapped her fingers a third time and the pony disappeared. Crosby finished laughing and wiped his eyes.

"Okay ma'am, if you wanted to cheer me up then mission accomplished, that was totally worth it."

She smiled and moved in closer to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

**_"_****_Remember that you are not alone in this world and your companions-"_**

She was interrupted by another familiar high-pitched voice, this one female.

"Sir Robert Crosby!"

Tinúviel giggled again.

**_"_****_It would appear that you are currently needed."_**

She reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

**_"_****_Until next time."_**

Before he could even speak Crosby felt the image fade and someone was shaking him awake. When he opened his eyes he was staring right into a pair of wide, shimmering eyes. He yawned and checked his watch.

"My lady, why are you waking your bodyguard at this ungodly hour?"

Louise glared at him.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby, I need you to go to Tarpes and fetch my familiar."

When it was clear that this was not an emergency, he yawned again and rolled over in bed with his back to her.

"I'm your bodyguard, not a dog-catcher. We'll discuss your abusive relationship with your boyfriend in the morning after I've had a cup of java."

He knew he was poking a hornet's nest but he really wanted more sleep. It was barely five in the morning, for crying out loud. He expected another outburst, he was prepared for the pinkette to try hitting him with her riding crop. He didn't expect what happened next.

"P-please help me, he's gone, I don't want to be left alone and be branded a failure."

He couldn't see her, but he could tell she was crying. Crap, he thought, that's hitting below the belt. He rolled back over and sat up.

"Oh, all right. Go downstairs and get Siesta to wake up Lugo. I'm probably going to need backup on this one."

She finished sniffling and shook her head.

"Mr. Lugo left with Siesta to meet her family in Tarpes. It was her idea, apparently there's some sort of treasure in Tarpes that only Siesta's family knows about."

Crosby yawned and put both feet on the floor.

"Great. Well, if you don't mind."

The pinkette stared at him dumbly. He leaned forward.

"Unless my lady is planning on fetching my clothes and dressing her bodyguard, I would ask that you wait outside."

She blushed furiously and stammered apologies as she left the room. Crosby smiled, in spite of the late night, and walked over to the wardrobe where his utes and gear were stored.

* * *

><p>"Bravo Six this is Iceman, IFF Authentication ID is Romeo Foxtrot, Romeo Charlie Four, Zero, Fife, Two. How copy?"<p>

There was nothing but static, and he took another sip of coffee. He was in the kitchen, one of the maids was still up starting the fire in preparation for cooking the noble's breakfast, and she was nice enough to brew a pot of coffee. Louise was sitting on the table looking expectantly at him as he keyed the radio again.

"Repeating, Bravo Six this is Iceman, IFF Authentication ID is Romeo Foxtrot, Romeo Charlie Four, Zero, Fife, Two. How copy?"

He sighed and tried a different tack.

"Dammit Tebby I know you're up quit jerking off in your sock and pick up!"

His raised voice and language caused both the pinkette and the maid to blush, but it did the job.

_"__Jeezus Haitch Keerrrist Crosby, don't you ever call at reasonable hours?"_

"Corporal I'm going to ignore the lack of protocol because it's early in the morning. I need a flight to Tarpes as soon as humanly possible."

He could hear Tebby yawning on the other end.

_"Roger that, is it an emergency, is someone kidnapped or dying?"_

He looked over to Louise and shook his head.

"Ah, that's a negative, corporal. Saito ran off on some treasure hunt and Louise wants him back."

There was a chuckle heard through the static.

_"__Roger that sarge. Tell the walking IED that if she doesn't stop abusing her pet then it's going to keep running off."_

Crosby held a hand up to forestall Louise's angry retort. Tebby's voice continued.

_"__Well, the loot is still sawing logs, and I got into heaps of trouble with Jessica the last time I woke him up early, so I guess it's up to me. Be advised Bravo Six will be there at 0600."_

"Roger that, Iceman out."

* * *

><p><strong>(06:23 approximately 15 klicks from Tarpes)<strong>

"So what exactly did my lady do that provoked her familiar to leave in the middle of the night for a treasure hunt."

Louise turned to look at Crosby. He had motioned for her to put on the spare radio headset so they could converse over the din of the helicopter's engine. She huffed.

"I caught that perverted dog in the courtyard tending a bath for Kirche and Siesta, it was disgusting!"

Something didn't seem right, Crosby thought. There appeared to be more to the story.

"That seems rather out of character for Saito, why was he preparing a bath to begin with?"

He noticed that the pinkette was not meeting his gaze. She sighed.

"I-I asked him why he preferred that style of bathing that you, Mr. Lugo and him do. He had convinced me to try it out. Then when I got there that's when I saw all those other girls in the tub."

Crosby shook his head.

"Did it occur to you that those other girls might have railroaded him into letting them use the bath? The kid's kind of a pushover when it comes to beautiful women asking favors of him."

That earned a glare from Louise.

"Then he should stand up for himself! Only a pervert would submit to a women just because she's getting naked."

_"__Ah, I don't mean to interrupt this little heart-to-heart, but we're approaching Tarpes, where do you want me to set this down?"_

He keyed his mic.

"Set the 'Bird down in the middle of the square. Try not to scare too many of the livestock."

After the Little Bird touched down and the blades stopped turning Crosby disembarked with Louise. Tebby said something about checking the transmission and said he would stay with the chopper. One of the villagers gave Crosby directions to Siesta's family farm, and it was almost nine o'clock when the pinkette and her bodyguard reached the farm. Two odd sights caught Crosby's attention. The first was a blue-haired girl that looked like Tabitha's older sister wolfing down an incredible amount of food. The second was Sgt. Lugo, on the ground with six boys and girls of varying ages dog-piling on top of him. Leaving the Delta sniper turned human jungle gym alone for the moment, Crosby walked up to the girl who was currently vacuuming up a bowl of stew.

"Any chance you're related to Tabitha? The bookworm?"

The girl paused in her eating and looked up.

"Oh, you mean my older sister? Yes! I'm Illococoo, who are you?"

Crosby was puzzled, he didn't remember Tabitha telling him she had an older sister. Come to think of it, he didn't remember the blue-haired girl telling him much of anything about her family.

"I'm Sgt. Robert Crosby, or Sir Crosby, Louise's bodyguard."

The girl nodded and resumed eating.

"Oh, right! You're the second familiar Louise summoned. You're the one that came from a very sandy place."

"How do you know, did Tabitha tell you?"

She bit off a large piece of bread and shook her head.

"No, I remember you tasted like sand when I licked you."

Something dawned on Crosby.

"You're…but that's impossible."

She looked up and smiled at him.

"Yep, I sure am. Hi older sister!"

Crosby looked around and saw Tabitha standing there, still reading a book.

"Sylphid is Illococoo, she uses nature magic to change between forms."

The Zulu Squad sergeant was still in shock over the revelation, and she continued.

"Please don't tell anyone, she lives in the forest because she likes privacy."

Crosby nodded.

"Well, I can officially say this is the weirdest thing I've seen today."

Lugo's voice called out to him.

"Day's still young, sarge, don't be saying that too soon."

Crosby grinned at the Delta sergeant, who was still pinned to the ground by six of Siesta's siblings.

"You alright, sergeant?"

Lugo gently pushed the kids off him.

"Five by five, sarge, just getting acquainted with the future in-laws."

"I take it the 'meet the parents' went okay?"

Lugo grinned.

"Well, the old man didn't shoot me, so that's a plus."

Crosby looked around.

"Where's everybody else?"

"In the barn, checking out the family treasure."

He saw the look on the Zulu Squad sergeant's face.

"Like I said, you ain't seen nothing yet."

_(AN: Well, I feel like a heel for leaving it on a cliffhanger. But at least I gave you a nice long chapter. And I admit, it was fun having the Weaver troll the Radioman again. The third part of Buried Treasure should be up by the end of the week. Hope you enjoyed!)_


	51. Buried Treasure, Part Trois

Crosby stared at Lugo.

"What exactly is the treasure? And why all the secrecy?"

Lugo pulled himself up and grinned.

"I told you, sarge. It's a surprise, come on, I'll show you."

Something looked familiar about the family's barn that held this 'treasure,' but Crosby couldn't put his finger on it. He could hear Saito's excited voice inside, as well as Kirche's voice. He flung open the door and was shocked by what he saw.

It was a Blackhawk helicopter. A Blackhawk helicopter here in Helkeginia. He shook his head at the prospect. The more rational part of this brain concluded that if a half dozen soldiers and their equipment could magically turn up here, then it shouldn't be too much of a stretch for this. Hell, that's how Bravo Six showed up.

As he stared at the chopper he noticed Saito was inside the cockpit, completely geeking out. He also noticed that this wasn't just any old Blackhawk.

"This Bird is one of ours." He said.

Between it's weather-beaten airframe and the 55 gallon drums welded to the sides as auxiliary fuel tanks to increase its range, it was clearly one of the Damned 33rd's own Blackhawks.

"Oh, you found our family treasure, what do you think?"

He turned at the sound of Siesta's voice.

"How did your family come to possess this?"

She smiled.

"It belonged to my great-grandfather."

"What?!"

She continued.

"The elders of our village told a fantastic tale of how he appeared in the sky out of thin air, in their time of need. At the time Tarpes was besieged by pirates and brigands who threatened to burn the town to the ground. That's when they said my great-grandfather showed up, and his green dragon spat fire like your weapons did and that cut down the evil men. They said that one of its fireballs destroyed two pirate ships at once! Imagine that."

It's official, he thought, shit just got weird. Only one way to be sure.

"Where is your great-grandfather's grave, Siesta?"

* * *

><p>Crosby couldn't believe his eyes, even though the words on the headstone were in the local runic language, he could make out several words:<p>

"1st Lieutenant Benson" and "Damned 33rd". Impossible. He saw Benson's chopper go down in the botched raid on Rigg's hideout. Then again, he thought to himself, he did remember Martinez telling him how he saw Bravo Six go down in flames and collide with Walker's chopper.

"Does my great-grandfather's headstone tell you anything, Sir Crosby?"

He pulled himself out of his reverie and saw that Siesta was standing next to him.

"As weird as it's going to sound, I served with your great grandfather. His name was Lt. Keith Benson, and he was a ranking officer in Dubai."

She looked up at him, eyes shimmering.

"B-but how?"

Crosby shook his head.

"The Lady in the Light must have figured he could do more good saving your village then at this current time. Still is hard to believe."

"Crosby-san!"

He turned and saw Saito running towards him holding a bundle.

"Crosby-san! Come quickly! I found something!"

Saito unwrapped the bundle and held up a familiar BDU shirt in digital camo. Sure enough, Crosby recognized the 33rd Battalion patch on the shoulder, and the name tape said BENSON. So he did make it here after all, thought Crosby. He then noticed a folded up piece of paper in Saito's hand.

"What's that?"

"It was in one of the pockets, I can make out a few words, but I can't read his handwriting, what does it say?"

Crosby unfolded the paper. It was ruled notepaper the sort you would find on a clipboard in any aircraft, he read aloud the words written down.

_"To whom it may concern: this is the last will and testament of 1st Lieutenant Keith Benson, serial number 8675-309, formerly of the 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion. If you are reading this, then it means you are from my world as well. I have left instructions for my children and grandchildren to maintain my craft in the hopes that someone else may use it. I will my Blackhawk and equipment to whoever can read this note. Use it well. Lt. Benson."_

Both Saito and Siesta still in awe at what they heard.

"Hey sarge! Saito! You probably should get back in here!"

Crosby turned and saw Lugo by the barn-turned-hangar.

"Why for?"

Because Pinkie showed up and she attacking the Blackhawk."

* * *

><p>Sure enough, when Crosby pulled open the door to the barn, he found Louise going ballistic on the chopper. He sighed and picked her up. Immediately she tried to squirm out of his grasp, to no avail.<p>

"Unhand me this instant Sir Bodyguard Crosby!"

"No."

"What!?"

"You heard me, I said 'No', as in the opposite of 'Yes.' What the hell are you doing?"

She huffed.

"I was kicking that offensive rust-bucket! If it drives a wedge between me and my familiar I hate it!"

Crosby sighed.

"My lady, I understand your frustration, but if you're going to kick the Blackhawk, may I suggest you don't kick the external fuel tank? If there are still fumes or vapors in that tank it could blow us all sky high."

He shifted the pinkette so she was firmly pinned under his left arm and turned to Lugo.

"Get Tebby on the horn, tell him we're going to need a gallon of his fuel and the name of that mage who performed the replenishing spell."

Lugo nodded.

"Roger that. Also, for the record if we can get this heap off the ground I'm flying home in it."

Crosby smiled.

"Not a fan of flying on dragons, are we?"

"Oh, there you are Mr. Lugo!"

Both soldiers spun around and saw a taller girl with long blue hair.

"My older sis told me to tell you that Siesta's dad was looking for you."

She looked at Lugo puzzled.

"Why don't you want a ride on my back? It's no trouble, and you hardly weigh anything."

The Delta sniper rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, after what happened when you, you know, transformed and all I thought it would be best to avoid getting into a situation like that again."

Crosby's interest was piqued.

"What happened, sergeant?"

Lugo laughed while nervously looked over at the approaching figure of Siesta.

"Well, I didn't know that Sylphid was a girl, or rather that she could turn into a girl, so when we touched down here I was staying by the dragon waiting for Siesta to find her folks. Everyone else had left, and I heard a female voice behind me. When I turned around there was this buck-naked older version of Tabitha asking me if I had food."

Crosby facepalmed.

"Let me guess, one or both of you tripped and fell on top of the other, just in time to be discovered by your girlfriend."

Lugo nodded.

"Yep, pretty much spot on. She lost her footing because apparently she's not accustomed to walking on two legs, and grabbed my arm to stop her fall, but I ended up falling on top of her. Next thing I knew I was face deep in her cleavage, and then I felt something heavy hitting me on the noggin."

He rubbed the back of his head gingerly.

"When I came to Siesta was sitting there cradling my head in her lap and clutching a large frying pan, she was apologizing for being so impulsive and for misjudging the circumstances."

He paused.

"Well, she didn't quite put it like that, she spent half the time apologizing for hitting me and then the other half scolding me for getting myself in that sitch."  
>He shook his head.<p>

"These gals are real cute with the funky hair and saucer-sized shimmering eyes, but their mood swings are crazy."

Crosby nodded.

"It seems to be a local thing, sergeant. Just make sure you don't provoke her again. Or else borrow a helmet from Bowles. That cap might proclaim that 'Life's a Beach' but it won't provide enough protection from the dreaded skillet of doom."

They both shared a laugh as Siesta joined then Crosby thought to himself maybe, just maybe they may have a snowball's chance in Dubai of winning this war.

_(AN: Aaaand at some point Lugo was going to have to experience Tsundere first-hand. He better watch it too, because Siesta is lethal with that frying pan. So now you know what happened to Lt. Benson from Operation Cockroach, and it puts a nice twist on the 'Siesta's family treasure' arc. Coming up next, the merry band of misfits make for the desert, and we find out what the 'Steel Dragon' is.)_


	52. A Walk on the Beach

"I'm still marveling that you know your way around the cockpit."

Saito looked up from his checklist. After they got some fuel and had the local noble mage cast the replenishing spell on the fuel inside the Blackhawk, Tebby had given the teenager a spare checklist of pre-flight procedures. Saito checked the last box and hung the clipboard on a peg behind the cockpit seat.

"I told you, Crosby-san, the rune on my hand glowed when I touched the cyclic control stick, and it was as if the knowledge on how to fly was imprinted in my mind."

The sword leaning against the cockpit bulkhead piped up.

"Oh, sure, kid gets a new toy and completely ignores his buddy. Geez, what's the celebrity gotta do to get some respect around here?"

Crosby chuckled.

"With all due respect to the Great and Mouthy Derflinger, a fully functional Blackhawk helicopter is worth more than a rusty old sword with a split personality."

"Whoa there, buddy! Just `cause I'm a sword doesn't mean I don't have feelings! Hey, McPherson, you gonna take what the sarge just said lying down?"

A second voice spoke up.

"Derf, shut up. For the record I agree with Sgt. Crosby. As much fun as it is to have a talking sword, this `Bird is going to be a lot more useful for the kid."

Saito grinned and put his headset on, and Crosby followed suit. Saito flicked some toggle switches on the control panel, opened the throttle all the way, and heard the engines started to whine and watched the blade slowly rotate. He looked out in the windscreen and could see Bravo Six already lifting off. When the blades were spinning at the proper RPM, Saito gingerly pulled the collective up, and the chopper left the ground. As it rose through the air he pushed the left pedal to counter the spin. He looked up spoke into the radio.

"How am I looking, Bravo Six?"

Tebby's voice crackled through the static.

_"__Looking good, kid, looking good. Push your right pedal to adjust your trim."_

The teen complied, and Tebby spoke up again.

_"__That's it, you got it. Not bad for a guy who never took lessons in his life."_

Saito grinned and pushed the cyclic stick forward, and immediately the craft started to shudder.

_"__Easy does it, kid. You're going to be fighting through ETL, so reduce your throttle and ease off the pedals. Oh yeah, and don't forget to push forward on the stick, otherwise you're going to stall out."  
><em>

Crosby spoke into the mic.

"Take it easy, Tebby, the kid is doing fine."

_"__Yeah, just remember your bird been sitting in the barn for several decades, so don't push the envelope too hard."_

Saito nodded.

"Roger that, Bravo Six. Bravo Zero out."

He turned to Crosby and grinned.

"I can't tell you how long I've been waiting to say that."

Crosby saw the Little Bird take off, the rest of the teenagers flew back with Tabitha and Sylphid, Tebby said he was going to go straight back to the Charming Fairies and catch a nap. He also said to Saito that the torch was effectively passed on, so Saito would be the one getting woken up in the middle of the night for an emergency flight.

He saw the blue dragon fly past the windscreen and swore he could see Louise giving them both dirty looks. He shook his head. Ever since they discovered Benson's old Blackhawk and uniform the pinkette was in a foul mood. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud squeal and he looked over his shoulder. Lugo was sitting on one of the bench seats in the passenger compartment and his girlfriend the pretty maid was clutching onto his elbow for dear life, her blue eyes wide with fear and exhilaration.

He motioned for Lugo to grab the spare set of headphones.

"How's Siesta holding up?"

Lugo grinned.

_"__She won't admit it, but she's having a blast. Thanks for letting her tag along."_

**(about 30 minutes later, the Tristain Academy of Magic)**

Saito eased off the throttle and the chopper slowed to 30 knots. The Blackhawk was slowly hovering over the Wind Courtyard at the school, and already it had garnered a huge crowd of students and faculty. The ground approached as the chopper slowly descended.

_"Ok kid, as you reduce the collective and ease on the throttle, pull the nose up, it'll decrease your airspeed."_

Saito gingerly pulled back on the cyclic.

_"Don't panic if you can't see the ground, that's normal, keep reducing the collective."_

The sword piped up over the din of the engines and rotor blades.

"Don't forget to arm the parking brake."

Crosby smiled.

"Thanks for your input, sir."

He turned to Saito.

_"Before we touch down arm the parking brake so this bird doesn't flop around once it's grounded."_

The Blackhawk touched down on the ground. Saito immediately cut all the power and looked over to Crosby.

"Nice job kid. Never thought I'd see a teenager from Tokyo flying one of ours. Guess you were right about that rune."

There was another loud squeal and Crosby looked over his shoulder. Siesta was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, and judging by the grin on Lugo's face, he was enjoying himself. They both exited out the side door, making a beeline for the servant's quarters. As engine's roar died down to a whine, and the blades slowed, Crosby leaned over to Saito.

"I'll do the post-flight checkup, go check up on Louise and make sure she isn't still mad at you."

Saito nodded as slipped the catch on his safety harness and reached for Derflinger. As he opened the door to leave another person popped up by Crosby's window.

"This machine! This is the machine you said runs on my dragon's blood! You must tell me everything about it!"

Crosby held up a hand.

"Easy does it, professor. Why don't you keep a safe distance until the blades have stopped moving, and let me finish my checklist. After that I'll be more than happy to answer any and off of your questions."

When he was finished Crosby opened the cockpit door and stepped out. As professor Colbert was asking more rapid-fire questions he noticed Saito speaking to Louise. She was pushing some sort of bundle towards him, and he could hear what the pinkette was saying even over Colbert's excited interrogations.

"Familiar! I have a gift for you, and you must accept it wholeheartedly!"

Crosby shrugged. At least the pinkette was trying to make up with Saito, so he turned his attention back to Colbert.

**(later, at dinner)**

Crosby was late getting to dinner, the entire afternoon was spent with him trying to explain to Colbert the finer points of rotary wing flight. It didn't help that the professor would go off on some tangent and take furious notes about it, but he finally satisfied Colbert's curiosity enough to take a break for dinner.

In the dining room he noticed Kirche and Tabitha were sitting at their table, Tabitha still had her nose stuck in a book and the busty redhead was regaling some rotund 2nd year male student about the 'green metal dragon' that they found in Tarpes. He heard his name being called.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby! Over here!"

He turned and made his way over to his charge's table and stopped. Something wasn't right. She was holding a leash in one hand and was directing an immolating glare at whatever or whoever was under the table. Saito was on the other end of the leash, with the now-familiar dog ears and tail. That wasn't what made him pause. The teen was wearing these ridiculous shiny glasses with some sort of gems or stones on them. He sighed and took a seat.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what the hell has my lady done to her familiar?"

She paused in her glaring to look at Crosby, and then huffed.

"Hmph! I gave my ungrateful dog of a familiar a gift, those glasses were an heirloom of my family, and very expensive!"

Crosby glanced again at the ridiculous eyewear.

"Unless you're family ancestor was a Lady Gaga, I have a hard time believing that. Why did you give them to Saito and why are you treating him like a dog?"

There was a whimper coming from under the table and she jerked the lease.

"Shut up you perverted dog!"

She turned back to Crosby.

"Those glasses notify me whenever he was perversely staring at other girls. I caught him on multiple offenses and I turned him into a dog as punishment."

Crosby sighed again, pinched the bridge of his nose and stood up.

"If my lady will excuse me."

He said, and without waiting to hear her response he left. On his way out he ran into Lugo and Siesta.

"Oh, hey sarge, what's up?"

"Not much, but you should probably steer clear of Louise, she's on the warpath."

He glanced over to Siesta.

"Especially your girlfriend."

Lugo whistled.

"Oh crap, what did Saito do now?"

Crosby shrugged.

"Nothing, just getting the crap beat out of him because Louise is crazy jealous."

He turned to leave.

"Where are you off to?"

"Bed, and you should too. Tomorrow's going to be a big day. Get Lt. Gordon on the horn and let him know we're setting out for the desert tomorrow, and if he can spare any extra bodies have them be ready by mid-morning."

He heard another high-pitched screech and saw the pinkette getting into an argument with Kirche. Crosby shook his head.

"This place is nuts."

_(Hahaha, poor Saito just can't seem to get a break. So I started watching the second season of Familiar of Zero and got a few more ideas for the story. Nothing major that deviates from the existing plot, but just some added easter eggs. And a big thank you to one of my proofreaders who is among other things a Crashawk driver, or a Blackhawk helicopter pilot to us civvies. She's been a gem helping me get the military slang and jargon in this story correct and helped get the terminology for the helicopter correct. Next chapter, aptly named 'Desert Storm' has them travel to the desert and find out what the 'Steel Dragon' is. Should be up by the end of the week, might be a two-parter.)_


	53. Of Pinkettes, Porn and Frying Pans

_(AN: yeah, I know this isn't 'Desert Storm,' but there were a few ideas I had for comic situations before things get heavy, so I'm throwing this in.)_

"Bravo Six this is Bravo Zero, we are inbound to RV at your location."

There was a brief pause on the radio until Bowles' voice crackled through the static.

_"__Roger that, Bravo Zero, be advised we have provisions lined up so I hope you guys have room."_

Crosby looked over his shoulder and smirked.

"Ah, roger that, Bravo Six we may have to shuffle a few passengers to make room."

Their Blackhawk had just lifted off from the Tristainia palace, where they picked up Lt. Gordon and Alex. The leader of the newly christened Royal Sharpshooter Guard, Agnès, had asked to come along as well. Konrad had indicated that at least according to the princess Agnès was a veteran of several battles, but Crosby had his doubts. Anyone who can bet wrestled to the ground by a 19 year old buck private is more likely to be a load. She probably just didn't want to be separated from her boyfriend.

That thought made him mentally list all the men under Konrad's command who had fallen for one of the local girls. And he shook his head again. Between the 'harem' of females and the magical spells and whatnot he thought if this was a movie people would be throwing down the bullshit flag about now. His thoughts were interrupted as they hit a wind-shear, causing the Blackhawk to shudder. He heard a female yelp and looked over his shoulder again.

Gordon was manning one of the side-mounted miniguns, more out of habit, and Alex sitting on the floor with his feet dangling over the side, scanning the horizon with the scope of his M-99 sniper rifle. Louise was clutching the edge of her seat for dear life, and sulking. She had made her opinion of their new craft the first time she laid eyes on it, but true to her word she was keeping silent. The other female in the passenger compartment was the blonde knight who was frantically trying to tell Alex something. He switched a channel on his radio.

"So Alex, what's got Blondie so bent out of shape?"

There was a chuckle heard through the static.

_"__Apparently she's scared I'll fall out. But she doesn't understand concepts like 'gravity'."_

Crosby grinned.

"Aww, that's cute, it just means she cares."

_"__Haha, very funny. Besides I can't stand those bench seats. What's our ETA to the tavern?"_

"About twenty minutes, think you can keep her calm until then?"

_"Roger that, sarge. I gave her a nice toy to play with on the way, so I think she'll be golden."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant smiled at the recollection earlier at the palace, when Alex presented Agnès with their first prototype black powder revolver. It was based off the old Colt Army Model 1860, and to say the blonde knight was happy with her gift was an understatement. Crosby didn't think a girl in full plate armor could jump four feet in the air and let out a Siesta-style squeal of glee.

_"__Crosby-san, I have a visual on the objective."_

He nodded.

"It's okay, Saito, we can break protocol and call it the Charming Fairies."

Saito was wearing Benson's old uniform, and it fit him fairly well, aside from the sleeves and trousers being too long. Nothing that blousing the cuffs into the boots and rolling up the sleeves couldn't fix. At least he wasn't wearing those dorky Elton John glasses. Their efforts to get the glasses off the previous evening was comical to say the least.

* * *

><p><strong>(The previous evening)<strong>

There was another loud explosion, and the castle shook. Crosby sighed and sat up in bed. He had been trying to sleep for the last two hours, but sleep was evading him. Mostly because, if the explosions were anything to go off of, those magic glasses Louise gave her familiar were causing her to blow her stack. He would really need to sit the pinkette down and have a talk with her about controlling her temper and jealousy.

He threw back the covers and got up, deciding that he was walking into a war zone he opened the armoire where his armor and weapons were stored and suited up.

The blast flung Saito into the air and against one of the school's stone walls. Ironically, as much as it hurt him, the damned magical glasses were still intact. He rolled onto his back, and saw one of the students, she was a first year judging by her cloak, staring at him with pity. The blast also caused a huge updraft, and it flared her pleated skirt, just enough to show…

The glasses made the obnoxious beeping sound, and he heard Louises voice growl at him.

"Ssssaitoooo! You perverted dog!"

The teen braced for another explosive blast, but it never happened. He hear Louise screech again, but this time it was in protest. He looked up and saw her pinned under the arm of Crosby-san.

"Unhand me this instant! I command you!"

Crosby ignored the pinkette's rant and looked around, finally seeing what he needed.

"Did you hear me?! Unhand me so I can continue disciplining my familiar!"

The Zulu Squad soldier didn't answer, but removed her from under his arm, and held her up with both hands, her own arms still pinned down. He then hung her by her cloak collar on one of lamp pegs on the stone walls. Given her height or lack thereof, she dangled a good three feet off the ground. He then confiscated her wand and riding crop and finally spoke to her.

"My lady, I have warned you in the past about controlling your temper and not abusing Saito. Now, I want you to calm down and think about what you did while I try to find a way to get rid of those ridiculous glasses. We're going on a potentially dangerous mission tomorrow and I don't want them giving away our position or complicating things."

She started to protest when he leaned in, giving her the full glare of his ice-blue eyes.

"And if you don't stop thrashing about and caterwauling, I'm going back to my room, finding the dirtiest pair of socks I own and stuff them in your mouth."

That got her attention. She stopped and her eyes went wide.

"Got it?"

She nodded. He turned away and helped Saito to his feet.

"Kid, let's go wake up Lugo and see if we can find a way to get those damned glasses off."

* * *

><p><strong>(fifteen minutes later, the kitchen)<br>**

Saito pulled his head out of one of the kettles, spluttering and spitting out water. Lugo shook his head.

"Nope, guess water won't stop it. You want to try fire next?"

The chef Marteau helpfully pulled out a pair of fireplace tongs, which caused Saito to panic. Crosby shook his head.

"No, they're impervious to the elements; otherwise one of Louise's blasts would have blown them off him."

He thought some more, but his thoughts were interrupted by a terrified squeak. He looked over and saw the maid Siesta, in a rather revealing nightie clutching a frying pan. When she saw her boyfriend, Siesta relaxed and lowered her frying pan. Unhelpfully, the glasses blinked and beeped again.

"Hey sarge! I think I have another idea!"

* * *

><p>*KLOONG!*<p>

The frying pan connected with Saito's face, sending him flying across the kitchen. Immediately Siesta dropped the skillet and apologized to Saito. Crosby helped the kid up, and it was to no avail, the glasses, though chipped, were still on him. Lugo spoke up.

"Well, looks like force is out of the question. What's next, lock him in Kirche's room and see if her bust causes the thing to short-circuit?"

That got Crosby's attention.

"As a matter of fact…"

* * *

><p><strong>(5 minutes later, Kirche's room)<strong>

Kirche Zerbst folded her arms under her rather impressive bust. Since they just woke her up, she was also wearing one of her usual revealing nightwear, this one in purple, and had an amused look on her face.

"You want me to cuddle Louise's familiar until the glasses break?"

Crosby nodded.

"In a word, yes. These things react whenever Saito reacts to girls, so someone of your rather large…assets would probably short-circuit them."

The redhead seemed to think for a moment and nodded.

"Very well, Sir Crosby, I will help you. I would help in any way to one up a Vallière. Expecially a Zero like Louise."

She gave him a suggestive wink.

"But you owe me one, my handsome old warhorse."

Kirche bringing up her pet-name of him caused the Zulu Squad sergeant to shudder. It brought back bad memories of when he got turned into a pretty-boy teenager. After suppressing the shudder and the implications of what this favor might entail he nodded.

"Fine, as long as it doesn't involve carnal knowledge I accept."

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later)<strong>

"Y'know sarge, I don't think your idea is going to work any better than water or a frying pan."

Crosby nodded and looked back over to where Kirche had wedged Saito in her cleavage. The teen apparently didn't mind, and it was at least not as bad as being almost drowned or walloped with a cast-iron skillet.

"W-why not try a little while longer, Crosby-san, I think these glasses are breaking."

It was true, the glasses had stopped their incessant beeping and now were just flashing wildly. Crosby turned away from the spectacle, and noticed a large book on the table. He turned back to Kirche.

"What's this book?"

The redhead paused in her cuddling.

"Oh that? That's a Summoned Book, it is an old Zerbst family heirloom. No one in my family knows where it came from."

More out of idleness than curiosity, Crosby opened the book and turned a few pages, and froze.

"Lugo, could you come here for a sec. I need you to put eyes on something."

"Sure sarge, what is it?"

The Delta sniper walked over to the table and looked down at the book, and let out a whistle.

"Wow, say what you will, doesn't matter if it's Earth or Helkeginia, I guess porn is a constant in any universe."

They both were looking down at a familiar pornographic magazine, bound in the leather book-binding. It gave Crosby an idea. He looked over to Saito.

"Hey kid, why not some light reading while you get cuddled?"

Sure enough, after about five minutes the glasses blinked at almost strobe-like speed, and started to smoke. Lugo spoke up.

"Um, Big Red, you might want to step back."

No sooner had Kirche stood up and taken several steps then the glasses exploded, sending Saito flying out the door of Kirche's room. Crosby ignored the redhead bemoaning her book being torn up and walked over to Saito. The teen was singed, but the glasses were gone.

"You okay?"

Before Saito could answer Crosby heard a female voice down the hall.

"There you are, you disobedient dog!"

Both of them looked up and saw Louise, her cloak missing and glaring sixteen flavors of death at her familiar and her bodyguard.

He grabbed Saito and pushed him behind him. The pinkette marched right up to Crosby, and he grabbed her elbow to stop her. She turned around and started beating on his leg with her tiny fist.

"Let me at my familiar! I want to beat that disobedient dog within an inch of his life!"

Crosby had had enough. He picked the pinkette up again, and stuffed her under his arm. He turned to Saito and tossed him a key.

"There's the key to my quarters, I suggest you lock the door and cop some Z's. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

He turned to Lugo.

"I need you to run down to the servant's quarters, where they do laundry, and bring me the dirtest sock you can find."

Lugo grinned wolfishly and Louises eyes widened with fear.

_(AN: Yeah, I'm terrible, but in fairness Louise has been acting like a brat lately and it occurred to me that Crosby has been threatening to spank or discipline her but not acting on it. Well, deprive a soldier of his sleep and you will finally push him over the edge. Next chapter they will be briefly at the tavern, and also some more foreshadowing. After that should be Desert Storm. I'm know I'm being bad for teasing you as to the big reveal, but trust me, it will be worth it.)_


	54. Desert Storm

"What's up, el-tee?"

Lt. Bowles looked up from his clipboard as he was checking items off the list.

After Bravo Zero had landed, their passengers disembarked for refreshments in the tavern, while Lugo and Crosby were helping Bowles load up food and supplies onto the Blawkhawk. Lugo had been noticing that the lieutenant seemed preoccupied.

"Jessica was acting a bit funny this morning."

He shook his head.

"Probably nothing, she acted this way when we first picked you guys up. It's just separation anxiety."

They continued their work for a few more minutes uninterrupted, then the door to the tavern opened, and the brunette barmaid with the kerchief came out with a tray of ale tankards. She smiled at Bowles.

"I thought you would get thirsty, so I brought some refreshments out."

"Thanks, sweetie. How are the rest of the guests holding up?"

She giggled.

"Well, Marlène and Jeanne and positively shooting daggers at Alex's new girlfriend, and I think the feeling is mutual. Lady Vallière has been drinking lots of water, something about having a bad taste in her mouth."

Crosby spoke up.

"She isn't being mean to Saito, is she?"

Jessica shook her head.

"No, she's been quite well-behaved in that regard."

Lugo grinned.

"Guess that little 'attitude adjustment you did last night worked, eh sarge?"

Bowles looked up.

"What happened?"

"It's a long story, el-tee, but basically Pinkie was particularly obnoxious last night in her ongoing quest to humiliate her boyfriend, and sarge had enough."

The lieutenant chuckled.

"Oh no, sergeant, not the dreaded Gym Sock Sandwich?"

Lugo nodded.

"And from what your girlfriend said, it worked!"

The three soldiers shared a laugh, but Lugo noticed that Jessica was looking at him in an odd manner. Bowles spoke up.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

She closed her eyes and lowered her head.

"Last night, when you were gone, one of my tables was a group of Gallian nobles. Stupid, crude and smelly lot, and they were obvious Reconquista sympathizers."

She continued.

"One of them, the leader I think, was gloating about how King Jozef was offering a large reward for a strange commoner who murdered one of his connected friends."

She paused.

"His high-connected friend was Count Mott."

Lugo whistled.

"Wow, who would have thought he was BFF's with the king."

"The noble went on to say that they hoped that the powers at be caught him, because the murderer also massacred the count's entire household, right down to the servants."

She suddenly looked up at Lugo, her aquamarine eyes shimmering with tears.

"Please tell me that horrid noble was lying, please tell me you wouldn't kill innocent civilians! I thought what you did, when you rescued my cousin, that was a good thing and that you were a good person!"

Lugo and Crosby shared a knowing look, and for a long time the Delta sniper was silent. Finally he spoke.

"Jessica, I've done some very bad things in my old life in my world. Things that if I could, I'd take back. But I would never knowingly kill innocents. That's not my way of getting things done. That Gallian noble was lying."

Bowles also spoke up.

"More likely than not whoever Count Mott's connections were killed any of the servants left behind to cover it up, and blamed Mr. Lugo for it."

The maid nodded.

"Please forgive me for asking such a horrible question, but it upset me greatly when I found out."

He put a reassuring hand on Jessica's shoulder.

"It's okay sweetie. Just one more reason it was a good thing Mr. Lugo found Siesta and took her home, otherwise she would have suffered the same fate as the servants."

When the barmaid left Bowles turned back to Lugo.

"Don't take it too hard sergeant, there's all sorts of rumors and shit flying in the face of this upcoming war."

He smiled humorlessly.

"Gordon told me he has a price on his head for apparently killing some high ranking muckety-muck in a raid he did in Albion. Even had an assassin dumb enough to try and collect."

He saw the concerned look on the Zulu Squad sergeant's face.

"Never got close to him, but he's grown an extra pair of eyes as a result."

He grabbed one of the tankards of ale and took a long pull on it.

"You've said it before, Sgt. Crosby, but I'll say it for you. This place is nuts."

* * *

><p><strong>(Later, somewhere in the Nephthys desert)<strong>

"Bravo Six, this is Bravo Zero, be advised my bird is starting to run a temperature, do you have a visual on the oasis ahead?"

Bowles' voice crackled over the static.

_"__Roger that Bravo Zero, I have eyes on the oasis, we'll follow your lead. Bravo Six out."_

The small convoy had been traveling for almost a week, and crossing the desert was slow going, every few hours they would have to stop to prevent their helicopters from overheating. It was almost dusk, and the angry burning sky was taking on shades of red and orange. It was Saito who spotted the oasis, and determined it would be a good place to stop and camp for the night.

After making a fly-bys, Crosby heard Bravo Six on the radio.

_"__Can't make out too much in the treeline, vegetation's too thick, but there's a nice flat spot close to the watering hole."_

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that."

He turned to Saito.

"Take us in, kid."

It was almost nightfall when they landed and disembarked. Crosby spoke up in his radio.

"Keep your heads on a swivel, if this oasis is inhabited they're not bound to be real friendly. From what Gordon told us, these elves don't have a high opinion of humans, so we need to be careful. Nobody gets trigger happy, we don't want to start another war."

He then switched to individual channels.

"Alex, Lugo you take up positions on higher ground covering the edge of the treeline, and scan using your night vision."

_"__Roger that."_

He turned to Gordon and Bowles.

"Sirs, since you both have the firepower, we're taking up defensive positions by the water's edge. Objections?"

Gordon shook his head.

"Negative sergeant, lead the way."

Crosby then turned to Saito.

"Kid, I need you and the girls to carry the water bags, cans, anything that can hold water and start filling up. Don't take them all at once, we might have to bug out in a big hurry."

Saito nodded.

"Roger that, Crosby-san!"

After he set up a perimeter around the water, Crosby spoke up into his radio.

"How we looking up there, Lugo?"

_"__Five by five, sarge. No movement, nothing on the IR or night vision scope. It's quiet."_

Crosby nodded.

"Too quiet for my liking. We made quite a noisy entrance with our 'birds, if this place was inhabited they know we're here."

He switched his radio to the main channel.

"All units I want weapons hot but do not fire upon unless the order is given. I don't care if they start throwing rocks or spears at us, do not fire unless ordered, understood?"

All the radios squawked in response. Well, everyone but Saito and the two females, but they weren't armed. Then he heard a twig snap. Alex's voice came on the radio.

_"__Contact right! Unknown number of tangos approaching your position!"_

Crosby swore under his breathe.

"Shit, everybody be cool."

He raised his voice.

"We know you can hear us, we mean you no harm."

Several figures emerged from the heavy thicket, and Crosby recognized they were indeed elves. One of them, a tall male with long blonde hair, stepped forward, brandishing a long halberd. With the pointed end mere inches from Crosby's chest.

"Humans!" The male elf spoke.

Crosby raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"We were looking for the inhabitants of this oasis."

The warrior glared and tightened his grip on his weapon.

"Why, so you could kill us too? Like the mages who came before you?"

He turned to speak to his people.

"Humans have come to rob us of our water, and slay us in our sleep!"

Crosby shook his head.

"No, that's not true, we are crossing the desert and only came here for water and shelter, we mean you no harm."

"Lies!"

The male elf glared at him with burning blue eyes.

"You ride on loud metal dragons and brandish weapons of destruction and you speak of peace? You lie!"

Crosby was about to speak when there was a loud bang.

"Dammit! Who fired?"

He looked over and saw the blonde knight Agnès sitting on her rump, her revolver still trembling in her hands and smoking. Her shot went wild, but it didn't matter, the leader tensed up and said something in his own tongue, and more elves drew bows and brandished spears.

Shit, Crosby thought to himself, this is going to end badly. He and the other soldiers took cover where they could, and he opened the main channel on his radio.

"All units fall back to cover, we are going to make an orderly retreat back to the birds. Tebby, if you can hear this, get the Blackhawk and your Little Bird fired up, we're going to need a pretty hot extraction soon."

He ducked as a spear was thrown his direction.

"Do not fire upon unless you've been fired up, and then shoot to wound."

Gordon cursed that he didn't bring his Heavy Trooper armor and stood up to cover Crosby's and Bowles' retreat. One elf warrior, the leader, ambushed Gordon and he clubbed the warrior with his AA12, preparing to fire.

"Stop!"

A familiar female voice rang out in the darkness, speaking in the elves' own language. Crosby couldn't place it. It was having the desired effect, since the warriors lowered their weapons and halted their advance. Something came running out of the treeline and collided with the lieutenant, knocking him to the ground in a cascade of long blonde hair. It was then that Crosby recognized her.

"Tiffania? What the hell are you doing here?"

_(AN: Aaaaand Tiffania makes an appearance and makes a saving throw on her people's behalf. After all, only fools bring spears and arrows to a gunfight, Battle for Endor notwithstanding. Guess we should change Agnès de Milan's name to Leeroy Jenkins, but at least a massacre was averted. Next chapter is a filler chapter with a working title of 'Life Among Elves' and then the following chapter will be the one you have all been waiting for! Should have both chapters up by the end of the week/first part of next week. Hope you enjoyed!)_


	55. A Shotgun Wedding

"You wish to pair with this human?!"

Tiffania's brother, who had a name Crosby couldn't pronounce let alone remember, had spoke up.

The almost disastrous first contact with the elves was averted by Tiffania explaining to her people that the humans like Crosby and Gordon were different than the mages who persecuted and exiled the elves. Afterwards Crosby tasked Saito to supervise resupplying their water and finding shelter for the night, and then followed Tiffania with the two officers back to her hut. In the midst of the discussion she had let it slip of her intentions with Lt. Gordon. The lieutenant seemed as shocked as her brother was.

"Wait, what?! Paring, as in like marriage or something?"

Tiffania nodded.

"It is a custom of my people that when one finds his or her true love, that she announces it to her eldest kin, so that he may bless the union."

She turned to Gordon, her blue eyes shimmering.

"You've been so kind and protective of me, I knew you must be the one."

Crosby sighed. All he wanted was to have shelter from the evening and possibly get directions on where this 'Steel Dragon' was, he wasn't expecting to have a front row seat to his erstwhile CO getting hitched, elf-style. His thoughts were interrupted by Gordon speaking up.

"Look, ah, Tiff, you're sweet and very nice, but very naïve. Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, how old are you?"

She lowered her head and blushed.

"I'll be 103 next spring, that is the ideal time any elf maiden would pair up with her beloved."

The lieutenant rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Yeah, but ah, isn't this kind of, well, you know, fast-tracking it?"

Her brother immediately wheeled on Gordon.

"You mean to tell me that you spent the night in her bed, and now you don't wish to go through with the pairing?"

That caught Crosby's attention.

"What?!"

"It's not like that."

He turned to Crosby.

"It's not like that, sergeant."

Lt. Bowles gave a sly smile.

"Hmm, no wonder you were jealous of her glomping the colonel. I would too."

Gordon shook his head and turned to Tiff's brother.

"Look, it's true we spent the night in her cottage, but I volunteered to sleep on the floor."

Her brother shook his head.

"Whether you slept in her bed or on the floor is immaterial. You both shared space under her roof, you agreed to the pairing."

Bowles leaned over to Crosby.

"Better not tell Princess Henrietta that one, otherwise the colonel will be in some deep shit."

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that."

He turned back to the discussion.

"Sir, it would appear you've been on the receiving end of a elven shotgun wedding."

He looked over to Tiffania's brother.

"With respect to the pairing, there is an upcoming war to which we unfortunately have a front row seat, you should postpone the wedding or whatever ceremony until afterwards."

Tiffania's eyes widened, and she looked over to Gordon, then back to her brother.

"If my beloved is going to war, then I must follow him!"

Her brother shook his head.

"The war is between humans, it is no concern of ours. Your place is here, with your people."

She shook her head vehemently.

"No, you're wrong. If the Reconquista prevails, they will attempt another Holy War with the elves, to conquer our lands."

She clasped her slender hand in Gordon's larger gloved hand, and looked up at him with shimmering eyes.

"And my place is with my beloved, wherever he goes."

Her brother was silent for a long while, then he turned to Gordon and spoke.

"Mr. Gordon, you seem honorable, for a human. You certainly lack the arrogance and conceit that the human mages I have encountered in the past. I cannot forbid my sister from leaving and traveling with you, but I ask you to look after her."

He then took both Tiffania's and Gordon's clasped hands and spoke a few words in his own tongue. When he finished he looked up.

"It is done. I bless this pairing, and may our goddess Sasha guide you."

Bowles grinned at his fellow officer.

"Well loot that was quick, I guess no bachelor party for you!"

The reality of the situation seemed to dawn on Gordon.

"Wait, you mean we're…"

Tiffania smiled and nodded.

"My brother has consented and blessed the pairing."

She then glomped the lieutenant, knocking him to the ground with her on top. Crosby stood up and motioned for Bowles to do the same.

"Sir, with respect, why don't we give Gordon and his new bride some privacy."

Bowles grinned again.

"Really, I would be glad to stay behind and give the lieutenant some pointers. Even record the blessed event, if he wants."

Gordon spoke through the cascade of golden hair.

"Sit on it and rotate, Bowles. Sergeant?"

Crosby nodded.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're in command whilst I'm...indisposed. Coordinate the resupplying effort, make sure we get everything we need."

Crosby saluted.

"Roger that, sir. Enjoy yourself."

* * *

><p><strong>(later that night)<strong>

Crosby was awakened by Lugo, he yawned and checked his watch. 0300.

"Anything to report, Lugo?"

The Delta sniper shook his head.

"Negative sarge, it's been a quiet watch."

He smirked.

"Although when I relieved the loot he swore that Gordon's new bride was a screamer. Said he could hear her all the way out here."

Crosby chuckled and shook his head. After meeting with Tiffania's brother, he coordinated with the others to help get supplies, the elves helped the human soldiers identify which of the oasis' flora and fauna were edible and which weren't. Afterwards the humans all converged on the improvised landing pad and slept in or by the `Birds. Bowles took the first two hour watch and Lugo relieved him. And now it was Crosby's turn to relieve Lugo.

"If it was me I'd throw the bullshit flag. There any coffee left?"

Lugo motioned over to the small campfire with a coffee pot suspended over it.

"Still about half a pot, and it's strong enough you don't have to pour it into your cup, it'll walk there on its own."

* * *

><p>Crosby was still awake when the first rays of the sun appeared over the horizon, and the twin moons faded. He was surprised to see the blonde elf girl cooking something over the fire. He walked up to her and spoke.<p>

"I figured you and Gordon would be sleeping in, what brings you up this early?"

She must not have heard him approach, as she let out a frightened 'meep' when he spoke, but recovered when she saw who it was.

"My beloved is still sleeping, so I thought I would help make breakfast."

Crosby looked over to the other soldiers still snoring.

"Need any help? If you cook too well then everyone will want some, and probably seconds, too."

She smiled at his quip and shook her head.

"Not to worry, I don't mind. My people have rounded up some extra food for you to take on your journey, after I clean up I will help with that."

Sure enough, when the tasty smells of breakfast wafted through the improvised campsite, people started to stir. True to the girl-elf's word, she fixed quite a spread for breakfast and soon everyone was eating with gusto, even the pinkette and the blonde knight. Louise looked up from her eating to see Tiffania staring at her.

"What's the matter?"

The blonde elf cocked her head to one side.

"I was just wondering, is it normal?"

Louise frowned.

"Is what normal?"

Tiffania looked down at her impressive bust and back to Louise. Crosby mentally facepalmed because he could see where this conversation was going. Tiffania cradled her breasts, and squeezed them.

"I mean, is it normal for human girls to be smaller than elf girls?"

Louise flushed bright pink, pinker than her hair, and then caught Saito staring. Truth be told, even Crosby had to force himself not to stare. He heard the pinkette hiss.

"Sssssaitooo, you filthy perverted dog!"

She pulled out her wand to punish her degenerate familiar. Then her wand was gone, and when she looked up she saw her tall bodyguard towering over her.

"Control your temper, my lady, or else."

He was holding her wand in one hand and brandished a dirty sock in the other. The pinkette's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth and sat back down. Satisfied, he turned back to the blonde elf girl, what was watching the scene unfold with a child's curiosity.

"I don't understand, Sir Crosby, was it something I said?"

* * *

><p>It was almost noon before the group of travelers was ready to go, but now they had another full week's worth of supplies and water. A delegation of elves had arrived to see off the strange humans and their dragons, it was Tiffania's brother who stepped forward.<p>

"What you seek is a day's journey in the direction that the sun sets."

He gestured to Tiffania.

"My sister can guide you it, but I must warn you, it is very dangerous. The men who tamed the Steel Dragon are long dead and neither man nor elf has succeeded in waking it from its eternal slumber."

He was interrupted by the whine of the `Bird's engines and the blades slowly rotating. Crosby spoke up.

"I understand, but if it's anything like our dragons, then I think we might be able to awaken it."

The warrior nodded.

"One final word of caution, my ancestors spoke of the time when the Dragon was unleashed, and no tale-weaver nor songsword could describe the destruction it wrought. They could only say that it caused much pain and suffering. Be careful of its power."

He put a hand on Gordon's shoulder, and on Tiffania's shoulder, and turned without another word.

Crosby turned to Gordon.

"Well, sorry to cut the honeymoon short, but we have a Steel Dragon to hunt, so let's move out."

_(AN: I know I'm getting lazy doing more hand-waving and deviating from FOZ canon regarding the elves in Helkeginia, and making up some of their customs as I go along. But having elves be long-lived makes Tiffania Older Than She Looks, and allows her to be shipped with another member of the 33__rd__ without our Heavy Trooper getting the dreaded pedobear label. Anyways, next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for, should have it up by early next week, maybe even the weekend.) _


	56. Desert Storm, Part Deux

_(AN: So, yeah that last chapter was a bit of a shocker with lots of author's Godlike Power Abuse, but if a story really is like your own world that you create, and you are the all-powerful 'god' of said world, why not? Maybe that's why I'd make a lousy god, I'd be constantly messing with the status quo because I could._

_Anyways, I've received some feedback about the last chapter's shipping, and believe it or not there is more to this than just 'paring the soldier with the elf chick with the impressive rack.' Tiff's powers as a mage that combats certain kinds of dragons will be relevant in the next arc of the story, and I needed her to have a reason to come back to Tristain and help with the war effort. And you can only do the 'follow the OC around like a lovesick puppy' before you have to either nut up or shut up, as the philosopher would say. So I nutted up a bit sooner than expected. Also I'm not going to lie, making Tiffania older than she looks was a Take That against various franchises that hand-wave away the very young-looking love interest by saying that they're a vampire/elf/alien/CrystalDragonJesus etc etc. At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it._

_Fun bit of trivia, when I originally stubbed out the story arc back at the beginning (circa 'Damned if You Do') I had originally intended the soldiers to show up at the oasis, have 'Leeroy Jenkins' fire on one of the elves and the 33__rd__ are forced to return fire in self-defense and gun down all the elves like Walker and Co did to the refugees in the 1__st__ level and the 33__rd__ in the Nest of the game. I decided it was too grimdark and really didn't serve a purpose beyond bloodshed for blood's sake. Not to mention it would alienate a faction in the FOZ verse that Crosby and co. will need in the final arc. _

_Anways, finally the moment we've all be waiting for. I've had this chapter sitting in my doc folder for weeks, and I finally get to publish it. I hope you enjoy, after this I'm going on a much-needed vacay to Florida this week, so no updates until the following week at the soonest.)_

"And I'm telling you I'm not telling! Jeezus why don't you pull your fucking head out of the toilet?"

The newly married lieutenant had his headphones on and was talking with the pilot of the Little Bird flying alongside. It was close enough to where he could almost see the shit-eating grin on Lt. Bowles' face.

_"__Suit yourself Heavy Four, but I'm telling you, I could hear your new bride screaming out her deity's name while you were porking her."_

"That was your imagination, Bravo Six. There was no screaming."

_"__Then dish up, what happened?"_

Gordon shook his head.

If I tell you what happened, will you drop it?"

_"__Maybe."_

"Okay, last night I was so thrashed that I fell asleep like five minutes after you guys left. That's it. Fact of the matter is, I'm still a bit creeped out by being paired off with an elf who looks like she's 15 years old."

_"__Oh, come on, Heavy Four, that's a cop-out! You're not getting off that easy! What position did you do first? Missionary? Reverse Cowgirl? The Lotus Blossom?"_

Crosby's voice cut in.

_"__With all due respect, sir, keep it PG-rated or switch to a secure frequency, there are minors on this partyline."_

He heard Bowles' voice speak up.

_"__Roger that, sarge, Heavy Four go to secure channel seven, I just had a brainstorm."_

"Roger that, Bravo Six. Switching to secure channel. Now what is this brilliant idea?"

_"__Heavy Four. I just realized you're the first human to marry an elf, it means while you're going down on your new bride, you could also be going down in history as the one who helped improve the elven people's lot."_

Gordon shook his head, grinning.

"Knock it off or I'll spank ya, Bravo Six!"

_"__Yeah, promises. Better not let your beloved hear that, she'll get jealous!"_

* * *

><p>Saito frowned at the Zulu Squad sergeant who was sitting beside him in the copilot's seat.<p>

"I don't know why you bother, Crosby-san. Everything they were talking about I already know about."

_"__Call me old fashioned, but there's some things that you just don't need to know about until after you can legally buy a pack of smokes and vote."_

Saito laughed.

"I'd have to wait until I'm 20, then. Besides have you ever heard of the term _ecchi_?"

"Sounds like you're hocking up a loogie. I'll bite, what it is?"

Lugo's voice came up on the radio.

_"__Ah, well sarge, you know how you're always saying that if this was a movie you'd call bullshit on how weird and contrived it is? Well, if they made a Japanese cartoon out of our stories this would be an ecchi story. Ludicrous plot, bizarre comedy as a segue into sexual situations, you name it."_

Crosby chuckled and shook his head.

_"__Well, I'm glad we're not in one then."_

He looked over to Saito.

"Let's just say that I've watched my fair share of ecchi, Crosby-san, so there's very little that you or any of the others soldiers could say to scandalize me."

_"__So Saito, have you heard of the Donkey Punch and Pink Sock?"_

A new voice piped up, this was Tebby. Saito looked over to Crosby, who shook his head.

_"__That's a negative, corporal, and do not tell the kid. That's an order."_

He switched to the open command channel.

"Now listen up everybody, I hope you all got your jollies about ribbing Lt. Gordon about his shotgun nuptials and Japanese porn. Now is the time to pull your collective heads out of the gutter and focus on the mission."

He turned in his seat and glanced over his shoulder to the blonde elf girl. Crosby spoke up.

"Gordon, can you lend your new bride your headphones?"

Before the lieutenant could respond, Tiffania spoke up.

"It's alright, I can hear your, Mr. Crosby."

Crosby, to his credit was only mildly surprised.

"Let me guess, the ears?"

She nodded as her ears twitched.

"And I must say, it's rather noisy in here."

He smiled.

"You could say that. Are we getting close to the Steel Dragon's lair?"

Tiffania peered out the window.

"We are getting close."

She paused.

"Although usually I'm not seeing it from this high up."

We should be closing in on our objective."

Bowles' voice came in through the static.

_"__Bravo Zero this is Bravo Six, I have eyes on…well something out about five klicks out at my ten o'clock."_

Crosby squinted through the windscreen, the sun was on the horizon and the glare from the sunset was making it difficult to see. Then he saw a dark shape on the ground.

"Roger that, Bravo Six, I have eyes on it. Can you make anything out?"

_"Negative sarge, seems to be covered up by some sort of camouflage or netting. Only thing I can say is whatever it is it's huge." _

"Too bad this `Bird doesn't have a spotlight on it." Crosby mutter. He spoke up into the command channel.

"Bravo Six see if you can find a spot to set down, we'll follow your lead."

Saito pulled the cyclic stick off to the side and the Blackhawk banked in sympathy with his movements. It was almost completely dark now, he could only see Bravo Six's starboard navigation light flashing green. He heard Crosby's voice over the radio.

"Time to go green, gentlemen."

Saito nodded and flipped the NVG's from the top of his aviator helmet down over his eyes. Immediately his vision was all hues of green from the night vision optics. Bravo Six stood out in the gloom with a strobe light flashing on its tail. Below them Saito could see a large dark shape. It was still obscured, but he could make out some basic shapes. He heard Lt. Bowles' voice on the radio.

_"__Bravo Zero, I have a visual on a possible LZ, follow my lead."_

Saito nodded and spoke into his mic.

"Roger that Bravo Six, following your lead."

* * *

><p>After the Blackhawk set down on the sand and its engines whined down Saito and Crosby unstrapped their restrains and disembarked. The Zulu Squad sergeant noticed that Tiffania was already getting out and following Gordon, in spite of his protests.<p>

"Tiff, I really think you should wait back in the `Bird, this could be dangerous."

She shook her head, and her voice could be heard over the engines and the swirling sand.

"Have you forgotten? Where you go I follow, and besides, if the Steel Dragon is a danger only an elf can protect you."

Crosby smiled and shook his head. Not even married 24 hours and they already were having their first fight as a couple. He heard Bowles' voice over the radio.

_"Sergeant, you need to see this, pronto!"_

He walked around the front of the Blackhawk and past the parked Little Bird where Tebby was already checking the engine compartment. Crosby saw a light source and something being illuminated by it.

As he approached it, he could feel the temperature around him drop, and a smell like ozone permeated around him. He looked over to the elf girl, who answered the question on the tip of his tongue.

"It is magic, the elders of my tribe cast a powerful spell that would suspend the Dragon in a perpetual state of unchanging, to preserve it from the ravages of time and the elements."

He nodded and looked over to the source of the light. It appeared that Bowles and Lugo had ran ahead and popped flares to help shed some light on the situation. The lieutenant was waving Crosby over and called out to him.

"Take a look!"

Sure enough, the thing was covered by camouflaged netting, but when Crosby pulled it up, he had to catch his breathe.

It was an airplane, true to the engravings that Konrad had shown him so long ago, and at first glance it looked like a Hercules transport plane, but as he approached the rear of the plane he could see objects sprouting from its left side. Crosby came up to the front and rubbed a gloved hand over the plane's nose art, a highly stylized Grim Reaper brandishing a minigun. He heard Bowles' breathless voice through the radio.

_"Can you believe it, Crosby? It's an AC-130 gunship! Looks like Ghostrider, right here, in this fucked up world of magic!"_

Crosby shook his head. A couple of chopper `Birds ending up in Helkeginia, he could believe, but this, this was fantastic. Even as he was looking at and touching it he couldn't believe it. He turned around to face Bowles.

"As cool as this is, fan out and see if you can find any clues, and if you can, find a fuel source. This big ugly's going to need a shit ton of fuel just to get off the ground, and I don't want to make another trip into the desert if we can."

He heard Gordon's voice call out.

"Over here, sergeant!"

He looked over and saw Gordon waving to him, standing next to another dark shape. He picked up a flare and approached.

"Don't come any closer with that flare, sarge!"

Crosby dropped it, and as he got closer he saw why the lieutenant ordered him to do so. It was a Volvo R-11 Refuler truck emblazoned with the 1st Special Operations Wing livery, looking as if it was just parked there that morning. He saw Gordon climbing on top of the tank.

"It looks full, and the fuel smells fresh!"

Crosby nodded, still in shock. He spoke into his radio.

"All units, be advised we have located a fuel source, keep all flares and open flames away. Obviously a smoking ban is in place until further notice. Alex, you and Lugo secure the area, Lt. Bowles if you could assist Gordon and myself with getting this thing refueled?"

_"__Roger that, sarge."_

He climbed up into the cab of the truck and saw the passenger door open. Lt. Gordon was all grins.

"Can you believe it, Crosby? A Spectre gunship, out here? This could be a game-changer!"

Crosby smiled and checked the visor. Sure enough, whoever parked the truck left the keys under the sunvisor. The truck's diesel engine coughed once, but roared to life on the second try and slowly inched its way towards the plane's refueling port. After he shut the engine off Crosby heard Alex's voice on the radio.

_"Um, Crosby? Gordon, sir? You should get over here right away, Lugo's found something."_

Crosby looked over to the lieutenant.

"I'll check it out, sir."

When Crosby arrived at Alex's position he found the private holding a flare. About fifty yards ahead he saw a stack of what looked like ammo crates, and he could make out Lugo's form slumped in the sand. Even from this distance he could hear the Delta sniper's hysterical laughter.

"What's the major malfunction, private?"

Alex shook his head.

"No idea, sarge. Lugo scouted out ahead and then he just burst into laughter. When I asked, he said for me to get you over and you'd get the joke."

He looked over to the stack of crates.

"That's all I got out of him, sarge."

Crosby nodded.

"Secure the area, I'll check it out. If our Delta boy has finally snapped I may need backup."

"Roger that."

The Zulu Squad sergeant gingerly approached Lugo. He was sitting on his haunches with his Scout Tactical straddling his lap. His head was bowed and he was still laughing.

"What's wrong, Lugo?"

Lugo didn't answer, continued laughing and pointed at one of the nearby crates. Crosby shined a flashlight at one of them. One was an ammo crate for the 40mm Bofors gun, and he recognized the long rectangular box that held the 105 mm Howitzer ammo. He was about to turn to Lugo again when something on the crate caught his eye. He shined his flashlight to be sure, and a sinking feeling hit the pit of his stomach. Quickly he scanned over all the crates, wanting to think it was just a mistake. When he came back around the other side of the ammo dump, he found Lugo back on his feet, finally speaking.

"I guess the Weaver's got a sense of humor after all, eh sarge?"

Crosby shook his head and looked back to the first crate.

Under the marking identifying it as a 40mm ammo crate with 9 shell count, there was a large warning stenciled underneath it.

**WARNING! WHITE PHOSPHORUS ORDNANCE: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL HANDLING ONLY!**

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUUN! Who the hell invited Willy Pete to the party? Oops, I guess that would be me (insert evil laughter). _

_In the immortal words of Jeggets, God help the Reconquista, and anyone else who gets in the 33__rd__'s crosshairs when Willy Pete is unleashed. Helkeginia will never be the same. __So…will Konrad use the Willy Pete against the Reconquista? This will be the last update before I go on a much needed vacay, but before we go, another hand-waving is needed, so without further ado:_

_*In the spotlight a short, clean-shaven man with dark hair and a small mustache comes on stage, he is wearing a khaki uniform of the British Army circa 1910's and Sam Browne belt, when he speaks it is in a cultured but sarcastic voice*_

_"__Mr. Handwaver the Magician has been conscripted as part of the War Effort against the evil Huns, er, Reconquista. As such, I with the rather unimaginative moniker of Captain Handwaver, shall be doing the handwaving from now on."_

_*He turns off stage*  
><em>

_"Private, hand me the card, there's a good fellow."_

_*a voice offstage is heard*  
><em>

_"Um, wot card would that be, sir? It's not my birthday."  
><em>

_*Captain Handwaver looks exasperated*_

_"__Baldrick, your stupidity is quite vexing. Do you know what your brain and the four-legged man eating fish-beast-haddock of Langhorian Lake have in common?"  
><em>

_"I give up, sir."_

_"__Neither one exists. The cue card to which I am referring to is the same blasted cue card that you are holding in your filthy hands."_

_*he gets handed the card*_

_"__Thank you Private, now go overtax your brainpower and sort a bag of Smarties alphabetically."_

_*He turns to the audience and clears his throat*_

_"__This handwave makes it clear that in the world of a certain violent anvilicious video game that the AC-130 Spectre gunship had the capacity to be armed with White Phosphorus ordnance."  
><em>

_*he makes a small 'Queen Mum' style hand wave, and continues*_

_"__Although if you've made it this far in this rather idiotic crackfic, I seriously doubt you'd be throwing down the bullshit flag at this point. I mean, really. Teenaged girls with dinner plate-sized eyes and enormous gag boobies that can trap person's faces in them, Elf girls who are over a century old, pah! Utterly ridiculous."  
><em>

_**"Captain Handwaver?"**__  
><em>

_*he looks up*  
><em>

_"__Yes, Almighty and Sadistic Godlike Author whom I really should not be antagonizing?"_

**_"_****_Do you know what yaoi slashfic is?"_**

(Five minutes later)_  
><em>

_*a shabbily dressed private wearing a Tommy helmet and dirty glasses shambles into the spotlight and with great difficulty reads from a cue card while flapping his arms wildly like a bird*_

_"__Captain Handwaver is currently indisposed, and I shall be handwaving from now on…And now time for something different."_

_So yeah, I'm a dick. Another fun bit of trivia when the story was still young, I originally envisioned the Steel Dragon to be either a Predator drone, a A10 Warthog and finally decided on the AC130._

_Whatever the 'Steel Dragon' was going to be, having Willy Pete ordnance was always going to be a given, so the 33__rd__ and Delta Squad could confront their past demons. Finally, I know you've seen a lot of random crap be thrust into Helkeginia, but there is a method to my madness, and all will become clearer as the story reaches its conclusion. Having said that, I'm off to chill at a beach bar with a cigar and a Cuba Libre. In about a week's time I will be back at it, with a fresh tan and fully recharged.)_


	57. Way of the Dragon

_(__AN: _ _And in other news, I'm back from Florida (well, not quite, I'm at a 4 hour layover in DFW waiting on a puddle jumper to take me home). But, the important thing is I'm fully rested, all the stresses of the past few weeks have melted away in the hot tropical sun, so now I'm ready to hit the grindstone at work and continue the story. And on that note I churned out this chapter real quick to sate your appetite for the story. Hopefully it doesn't have too many errors._

_But first:_

_*We see a military parade ground, where Mr. Handwaver is now an officer, complete with uniform, hat and swagger stick. As he is tersely telling off some recruits, he receives a letter, which he reads and leaves abruptly._

_*Cut to a military hospital, where Captain Handwaver is lying face down in bed with his backside heavily bandaged. Mr. Handwaver comes in and looks shocked_

_"__Captain, I came as soon as I heard and- Good Lord what happened to you?"_

_Captain Handwaver clears his throat._

_"__It pains me to tell you this- actually it pains me to sit down, but that is neither here nor there-it pains me to tell you this, leftenant, but you will be doing your own bloody handwaving from here on out."_

_Mr. Handwaver winces._

_"__Let me guess, yaoi slashfic?"_

_Captain Handwaver nods._

_"__You could have warned me."_

_Mr. Handwaver grabs his hat and swagger stick._

_"__If I did, you wouldn't have accepted the job."_

_He salutes and gets ready to leave._

_"__If I may make a suggestion, apologize to Him, and move on. You won't win if you persist."_

_After he leaves Captain Handwaver huffs in his bed._

_"__Apologize to that Omnipotent Wanker? In a pig's arse!"_

_The door opens, and a large, muscular man wearing an orderly's uniform and sporting a handlebar mustache. He snaps a rubber glove on._

_"__Time to change the dressings and do a routine inspection of the plumbing, sir!"_

_The captain breaks the fourth wall._

_"__Bugger."_

_Yeah, I'm terrible. No handwaving necessary here, just more Alduin and his 'literal' scenery chewing.)_

"And I'm telling you, Oliver, this is wrong!"

Sir Percival followed Cromwell down the darkened stone stairwell down to the secret conclave of the Reconquista, where it's sinister secret was housed. Cromwell sighed.

"Percival, we've discussed this before, in order to win this war we need His power."

The Albion noble stopped Cromwell in his tracks by grabbing his friend's shoulder and turned him around.

"At what cost? Our souls? The future of the Republic of Albion?"

For a moment there was doubt in Cromwell's eyes, but then a female voice contemptuously cut through the darkness.

"Still have no stomach for winning this war, Sir Percival?"

The noble let go of his friend's shoulder and turned back to face the newcomer, the woman with the unsettling violet eyes and smug demeanor.

"I believe in winning this war, and even burning a few bridges to ensure complete victory, but this is madness."

She threw her head back and laughed.

"Madness? This is the new way, you spineless fool!"

Sir Percival was about to retort when he was interrupted.

"She is right, old friend."

Percival turned back to Cromwell. The leader of the Reconquista seemed tired, and resigned.

"Sheffield is right, there is no going back, only forward."

He glared at Sheffield.

"And I hope to Brimir that this bargain is worth it, and history will not judge us as monsters for consorting with monsters."

He looked up and saw Sir Percival turning around and climbing up the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

Cromwell saw his old friend smile thinly.

"Where else, friend? I'm going out, don't bother waiting up for me."

Sheffield stepped forward.

"You have been missing the Reconquista's 'meetings', Sir Percival of Hockspur."

The Albion noble chuckled.

"I wouldn't say I was missing them."

Sheffield glared at him.

"Are you having second thoughts about our noble cause? Maybe thinking of defecting to Tristain to be with your friend that brat's bodyguard?"

Sir Percival's smile vanished and he glared at the female mage.

"I will tolerate insolence from my equals and my betters, witch, not my inferiors."

In a flash before she could react he held his wand to her throat.

"Try my patience again, and Lord Alduin's patronage or not I will end you, bitch!"

It was Cromwell's turn to calm his friend down.

"Peace, Sir Percival."

He looked over to Sheffield.

"Leave us."

She turned and left, leaving the two nobles alone in the darkened stairwell.

"It would mean a lot to me if you would be by my side this evening, at our conclave."

Cromwell faced his friend.

"I-I need your guidance, Percival, like in the old days. I don't need these sycophantic imbeciles who report to me, or manipulative bitches like Sheffield. I need friends."

His voice was strained, and for a moment Percival saw his old friend again, not the leader of the Reconquista.

"Even if it meant getting rid of that bitch, or telling Lord Alduin to go to back to the Dark Realms whence He came?"

Cromwell's hand fell off his friends shoulder, and he let out a tired sigh.

"It's not that simple, friend. As I said, there is no going back, only forward."

With that Sir Percival nodded, and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

Sir Percival saluted Cromwell.

"Why, I'm off to prepare my men for mobilization of war. If we are going against Tristain and her heavily armed guests, then I need to make sure we are well-prepared."

* * *

><p><strong>(later that evening, at the secret Conclave of the Reconquista)<strong>

Somewhere in the distance a clock tower struck midnight, the dead of night. It was not heard in a darkened cavern where dozens of masked individuals gathered. To one side of the cavern was a firestone crystal glowing blood red, its light glowing more intensely than the previous meeting. In the center of the cavern was a bloodstained stone slab with chains dangling from it. The throng of masked strangers parted, and a figure was kicked to the floor. The man, a noble, was covered in bruises and cuts, as if he had been beaten repeatedly, his once fine satin clothes were torn and stained with dried blood and filth. The man's ruddy complexion paled when he saw the stone slab. A robed figure approached him.

"Welcome, Sir Gilbert Sullivan, to the Court of the Reconquista."

The figure removed his mask, revealing the face of Oliver Cromwell, the leader of the Reconquista. Immediately the prostrate noble began to babble.

"P-please, Sir Cromwell, I am innocent, I know not why I am brought here! My guild has always faithfully served the Reconquista and its ends."

Cromwell helped the fat noble to his feet, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Oh, please Gilbert, your guild is not on trial here, and its loyalty has never been questioned."

The Reconquista leader's face hardened.

"Your loyalties, on the other hand, are a matter of some debate. A reliable source of ours said that Cardinal Halstaff had a contact within the Fellows of the Craft Guild, someone who knew this treacherous John Konrad, and handed our beloved Prince Wales over to him, and certain death."

The fat noble's fear vanished, and in its place was ruddy-faced anger.

"You insolent upstart whelp! My father, his father and seven generations before were all Fellows of the Craft, and swore an oath of loyalty to the crown of Albion. You dare accuse me of treachery! You were trying to kidnap the prince, to brainwash him into some sort of puppet for the Reconquista!"

"You lie, Sir Gilbert Sullivan."

A new voice spoke up in the crowd, and although it lacked inflection, Gilbert recognized the voice. The crowd of masked Reconquista nobles parted again, this time revealing the familiar face and figure of Prince Wales.

"P-prince Wales? But y-you're…"

"Dead?"

The prince's handsome face split into an evil smirk.

"No Sir Gilbert Sullivan, I am not dead. No thanks to you, I might add."

Prince Wales pulled out a small ornate knife and brandished it. Gilbert, his mind still recoiling at the idea of seeing the dead walk, backed away from the undead prince, not seeing that he was backing straight towards the stone slab. Even more disturbing, the chains trembled, then writhed like snakes, as if they had a mind of their own.

Then, as if he sensed the danger, Gilbert turned around and screamed. Too late, the chains lashed out and coiled around his wrists and ankles. As he struggled against his restraints, he saw the firestone glow brighter, and a deep, sinister voice issued from it.

**"Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki. Ressssistanssss is futile, pathetic worm. Your ssssoul will feed my hunger, and your miserable corpssssse will be instrumental in reviving my immortal form."**

Gilbert froze, and he did not see Prince Wales stab out with his knife, leaving a bloody wound on the guildmaster's palm. The firestone crystal glowed, bathing the entire cavern in a blood-red light. A beam of light impaled Gilbert, and blood poured out his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. His scream of pain increased in crescendo until it was no different from that of an animal's. Then, in an explosion of blood and viscera, Gilbert Sullivan, Guild-Master of the Fellows of the Craft, and loyal member of the Royalists of Albion, was no more.

The sinister voice continued.

**"****Zu'u lost daal, you have my thankssss for bringing me closer to my reincarnation. Nu hin sille fen nahkip suleyki, I believe a boon issss in order." **

There was a bright flash of light, and on the stone slab a parchment, rolled up tightly and bound with a seal the color of congealed blood bearing the crest of a dragon. Cromwell approached, slowly at first, but his curiosity got the better of him and he reached out towards the scroll.

"What is this boon, Lord Alduin?"

There was another sound of continents crashing together, signaling to the mortals that their dragon lord was amused.

**"****This boon will give you what you wish in this pathetic little war of yoursssss." **

Cromwell opened the scroll, and his eyes widened.

"I-is this possible?"

**"****It issss. These scrollssss will give you the meansss to construct a weapon of desssstruction, one that can level this pathetic little country you call Trisssstain."**

Any doubt that was left in Cromwell's mind left, along with whatever words of warning his friend Sir Percival advised him against treating with fell entities. In its place was a most dangerous emotion, ambition coupled with raw, naked bloodlust. He stared at the plans for the massive ironclad airship, before the sinister voice continued.

**"****Fa'al zhu nihg nahkip! Do not forget our bargain, mortal! I require one more soul to be fully freed from my shackles in the Dark Realm. And it musssst be one of thessse men, these warrior-killers from the other world. Only then can I be releassssed."**

Cromwell did not speak at first, but then he dropped to one knee in obeisance to the firestone crystal.

"It shall be done as you command, Lord Alduin!"

_(AN: Way to go Cromwell, I think it's safe to say you've leaped off the slippery slope and are now on your way to become a full flown Dragon to the big bad._

_Okay, for those of you who pulled a WTF at the reveal of the massive ironclad airship, it was in the manga/light novel, and I need something to level the playing field. After all, now we have a Little Bird, a Blackhawk, 5 soldiers of the Damned 33__rd__, a Delta Force sniper, and a fat dude with an Ipod. Oh, and an AC130 gunship, even if Konrad decides not to use the Willy Pete all this 21__st__ century firepower is falling under the category of No Kill Like Overkill. Not to mention all the 20 century weapons they're arming the Tristainians with. The upcoming war will have several battles, all of which will be awesome and rated M for Manly, but in order not to make it too one-sided I had to balance things out again. Anyways, before the war we're doing another interlude, this dealing with Louise's family. Should be up by the weekend.)_


	58. Oscar Mike

_(AN: Okay, so I'm really really sorry that this chapter took so long. The only thing worse than coming back to work after almost a week off is the work that piled up when you were gone. Enjoy!)_

Crosby could see the Tristain Academy of Magic in the distance as the sun rose and adjusted the flying yoke so the horizon leveled off. He yawned and shifted in his seat to relieve some a leg cramp that was forming. It was almost morning, they'd been on the move for almost a week and it had been a long week. It had also had been a long time since he had to fly a fixed-wing aircraft, fortunately the craft he was flying was not hugely difficult to fly. With the school in sight they were finally in the last leg of their journey. He glanced out one of the side windows in the cockpit of the Spectre gunship at the unusual sight. He shook his head and looked back to Gordon, who was sitting in the navigator's chair.

"There's no way in hell the 'bird should be able to lift that."

The lieutenant grinned, and the blonde girl with the pointed ears answered the question for him.

"I told you, the Spell of Feather-weight is quite powerful."

She looked out the window at the absurd sight of a Blackhawk helicopter carrying the R11 fueling truck. The Little Bird piloted by Bowles callsign Bravo Six was following behind at a safe distance.

"Although I have to say it was heavy enough to tax even my magic."

Gordon grinned.

"Yeah, but it would have been a shame to leave a perfectly good fuel truck behind in the desert. And I have a feeling that we're going to need a lot of fuel to power this beast."

Crosby said nothing but spoke into the command channel.

"Bravo Zero, be advised I have the school in sight, estimated ETA is fifteen mikes, think your bird can hold out that long?"  
>The teenager from Tokyo turned familiar's voice came in through the static.<p>

_"__Roger that, Ghostrider, all dials are still in the green, although I'll probably have to have Tebby take a look at it to be sure."_

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later, just outside the Tristain Academy of Magic)<strong>

Crosby could see the Blackhawk helicopter hovering above the school, he disengaged the AC130's autopilot and spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Zero, set the truck down in the courtyard and power down. Bravo Six, scout out ahead and see if you can find a flat spot to land this beast."

The Blackhawk descended just long enough for the wheels of the fuel truck to touch the grass and disengaged the tether. The chopper then banked off to the side and set down. Crosby could see the pinkette immediately disembarking and smiled. He could almost visualize the kid hurriedly shutting down the engines and rushing after Louise. Some things never change. His thoughts were interrupted when Bowles' voice came through the static in his radio.

_"__Ghostrider this is Bravo Six, I have eyes on a flat area about a klick to the east, has a nice flat pasture, should be enough to land the Beast."_

"Roger that, Bravo Six. Be advised Ghostrider is inbound preparing for landing."

Crosby turned the control yoke into a descent pattern. When the pasture that was going to be their landing strip was in sight.

"Lowering flaps."

As the giant aircraft slowly descended and approached the pasture, he pulled back on the yoke.

"Pulling back on power, raise flaps to max capacity."

When the Spectre's tires touched solid ground, he applied all back pressure to the yoke and applied the brakes.

"Reversing throttle."

The aircraft's engines whined in protest, but it was slowing down. When the Spectre gunship finally came to a stop Crosby could see Bowles' Little Bird off to the side, its blades still spinning.

"Very nice landing, Ghostrider, not bad. Where did you learn to fly something that big?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant grinned.

"Playstation, sir."

The other soldier in the cockpit let out a yelp of mock fright.

"Holy crap on a cracker! You mean I've been trusting my girlfriend and my own hide to some amateur whose flight school was video games!"

Crosby laughed.

"Well, if we landed safely I figured it wasn't worth bringing up. And if we didn't make it, well it would have been a moot point."

They both shared a laugh, much to the puzzlement of Tiffania. Bowles' voice spoke up in the radio.

_"__By the way, I figured you and your passengers could use a lift back to the school."_

Crosby nodded and spoke into his radio.

"Roger that."

By the time he opened one of the side hatches and climbed down, Tebby and Alex were there to greet him. Crosby leaned in to speak to the corporal.

"Tebby, set up a security detail around our new 'Steel Dragon', nobody gets near it, understood?"

The corporal saluted.

"Roger that, sarge. The loot is waiting for you in his `bird."

* * *

><p><strong>(5 minutes later, Tristain Academy of Magic, Student Dorms)<strong>

Crosby had barely set foot inside the school when he heard a ruckus, unfortunately it was coming from Louise's room. He shook his head. He thought that after the 'gym sock sandwich' incident that he had cured Louise of abusing Saito. When he opened the door he stopped in shock. There was a girl wearing glasses and had a striking resemblance to Louise, except she had blonde hair instead of pink hair. She was also in the middle of pinching the pinkette's cheek and scolding her about something. She paused to look at Crosby as he stood in the doorway.

"Who is this, Chibi-Louise? Ah, this must be your Bodyguard, good! He must come along as well!"

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Going where? And pardon me, my lady, but it's customary to introduce yourself."

She huffed, let go of Louise's cheek and straightened up.

"Very well, I am Éléonore Albertine Le Blanc de La Blois de La Vallière, older sister to Louise, and as my little sister's bodyguard, you must come along as well. She is going home to see her mother."

She turned around and saw Siesta.

"You there, maid! You must come as well!"

Crosby watched in amusement as the older sister herded the pinkette and the maid down the stairs, and followed them. He turned to Saito, who had changed out of his ACU's and into his civilian clothing.

"Mind filling me in on the deets, kid?"

Saito shrugged.

"Apparently she's Louise's older sister, she was waiting in the room when I arrived."

He shook his head.

"At least now I know where she gets her bossy nature from."

When they arrived outside Crosby saw a large, ornate carriage and a smaller one just behind it. It must have been the Vallière family carriage, because he saw the older sister ushering the pinkette in and was in the process of ordering Siesta into the smaller one. Éléonore whirled around and pointed at Saito.

"You are to ride in the servant's carriage and follow us back to our estate."

She looked over at Crosby.

"Sir Bodyguard Crosby, you are to accompany us."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"With all due respect to my lady, there isn't enough room. And we aren't that well-acquainted for such close quarters."

The older sister blushed, and started to make an angry retort when he interrupted her.

"I have my own transportation, if your footman would be good enough to provide me with a location I will meet you there."

The older sister fumed, but said nothing and entered the carriage, slamming the door in the process. He could hear her scolding Louise and couldn't help chuckling. He led Saito to the other carriage and helped him in. Siesta leaned out.

"Sir Crosby! Could you please tell Mr. Lugo that I'm indisposed?"

He smiled.

"Not to worry, Siesta, I'll bring him with."

She smiled, let out _kyaaa_ and hugged him.

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later, somewhere in the Tristain countryside near the town of Vallière)<strong>

Éléonore frowned as it became evident that her younger sister was distracted again. How that scatterbrained girl would ever become a mage was a mystery to her. She pinched Louise' cheek again to get her attention.

"Chibi-Louise! Pay attention, I'm talking to you!"

Her younger sister yelped.

"B-but my familiar, that pervert is getting too close to the maid again!"

Éléonore huffed.

"Will you stop your whining and listen!"

Louise rubbed her red cheek.

"I'm sorry older sister! But my familiar-"

"Enough about your familiar! We have more important things to discuss."

She paused in her rant and heard a bizarre sound, there was a loud chopping noise, it reminded her of the sound their baker made when he was slapping the bread dough, only it was making the noise in rapid succession. Underneath the louder chopping noise was a low drone like a thousand angry bees buzzing.

"What is that?"

Louise finished rubbing her cheek.

"That is the metal dragon of those men I was telling you about. I think they call it a Black-Hawke."

Éléonore leaned over to the window to get a better look. A large green metal airship being held aloft by several spinning blades flew past them, it was evident that was where the chopping noise was coming from. It hovered and leaned to one side for a brief moment before flying off at an incredible speed. She leaned back into the carriage and shook her head.

"Even after I've seen them with my own eyes, it is still unbelievable…"

* * *

><p>"Listen sir, I understand and under normal circumstances I would tell you in person but there's been some complications. I need you to get on the horn with Konrad and explain our sitch. Tell him we'll RV with him at the palace in 48 hours, tops."<p>

Gordon's voice crackled through the static.

_"__Roger that, sarge. Keep our walking IED safe."_

"Roger that, Bravo Zero out."

_"__Wow, no wonder Pinkie is such a bossy boots, it's genetic."_

Crosby looked over to the Delta sniper sitting in the copilot's seat.

"Yeah, her older sis really seems like a bitch, makes me feel sorry for the pinkette."

He heard Lugo chuckle.

_"__Speak of the devil, there she is."_

Crosby pushed the cyclic stick off to the side so the Blackhawk banked left, allowing him a better view of the carriage. Sure enough, there was Louise' older sister, her already wide eyes much wider in shock as she stared at the chopper.

_"__Give her a break, sarge, that gal has never seen an aircraft, let alone a bird like this."_

Crosby nodded and looked off to the east.

"I'm picking up a visual on an estate, based off the directions the footman gave me it should be the Vallière mansion."

* * *

><p>As the Blackhawk approached Crosby could make out a large courtyard that served as the entrance drive to the estate.<p>

"I'm going to set us down over by the carriage house, sergeant. No sense in scaring the horses."

He pushed the cyclic forward and steered the `bird towards the stables. When the craft was stabilized and hovering, he gradually cut power and pushed the collective down, causing the Blackhawk to descend. Soon it was on the ground, and as he cut all power and waited for the engines to wind down Crosby noticed that the carriages had caught up to them.

"C'mon Lugo, let's go face the music."

The two Vallière sisters, along with Saito and the maid had already entered the mansion. Crosby opened the ridiculously large double front doors, only to be greeted by a cacophonous greeting. It looked as if every servant in the Vallière household had lined the walls of the mansion's great hall to greet the newcomers.

"Welcome Lady Éléonore, welcome Mistress Louise!"

Lugo rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"What, no hero's welcome for the soldiers who risked life and limb for Lady Pinkie?"

A third voice, female but imperious spoke up behind him.

"You must be my daughter's bodyguard."

Both soldiers spun around and saw the mistress of the household; the Duchess de Vallière, and the pinkette's mother. Crosby had to admit it; Louise had a good-looking mother. Like her youngest daughter she had pink hair, and her regal features were handsome and without any flaws of age. Crosby had estimated that she had to be in her forties at least, based off the ages of her daughters, but if she was she certainly didn't show it. He cleared his throat and straightened up, giving a flourishing bow to the duchess.

"My apologies Duchess de Vallière, for barging in without a proper introduction; I am Sir Robert Crosby, knighted as a Chevalier by her Highness Princess Henrietta of Tristain and oathbound to watch over your daughter Louise."

He nodded to Lugo.

"And this is my subordinate, Sgt. John Lugo, of Delta Squad."

The younger man stiffened up and brought his hand to his brow.

"Ma'am."

The duchess looked over the two men. She had read her daughter's letters from the school about the odd men that appeared in Helkeginia, that they came from another world, a world where technology reigned supreme and magic was but a myth. She had even heard rumors within her own circles about the mysterious men, about metal dragons that could fly without windstones, giant golems that were impervious to musket fire and arrows. At the time she couldn't believe it, even when her own daughter attested to it. Then she saw the green metal dragon in the distance, the means by which her daughter's bodyguard traveled to the estate, and the odd clothes they wore, and she still was in disbelief.

Crosby watched the duchess look him over with undisguised curiosity. He noticed with amusement that the countess was staring at his weapon.

"It's a machine gun, duchess. It is like a rapid repeating musket."

She nodded.

"So the rumors are true. My own sources were telling me that her Highness had acquired some advisors, and were arming the Tristain military with weapons, including muskets that could fire repeatedly without reloading."

She turned to Louise and her older sister, who was in the process of conversing with a third girl, who must have been the middle daughter as she also had pink hair. The duchess nodded, and the middle-daughter left.

"Éléonore, please show Sir Crosby to the guest quarters."

She turned back to Crosby.

"Dinner is at six, your presence would honor my household."

Crosby nodded and the countess looked over to Lugo.

"Regrettably, your subordinate will have to quarter with the other servants, but they can help him find refreshment and accommodations."

Lugo shrugged, and after taking leave of Crosby, went off in search of Siesta. Crosby watched the duchess leave and then looked over at the blonde. She was again in the middle of scolding Louise and pinching her cheek.

"Chibi-Louise! Pay attention when I'm talking to you, you have no composure whatsoever!"

He cleared his throat.

"With all due respect, Lady Éléonore, leave my charge alone, or else."

She paused in her scolding to glare at Crosby.

"Do not interrupt me when I'm talking to my sister! How dare you-"

Her angry retort was cut short when Crosby pulled out a dirty sock out of his bellows pocket.

"Did your younger sister happen to tell you what a gym sock sandwich is?"

_(AN: Sooo we get to meet Louise's family! I figured a bit more humor was in order before things get heavy. Work has been keeping me buried, so I'll try and get the next chapter up some time this week, it might be the end of the week, though.)_


	59. Charlie Foxtrot

_(Yay! 30,000 views, never thought I'd see this fic actually be popular LOL. So to celebrate I churned out this quick chapter. It doesn't serve any real purpose to the plot other than show more interactions with Louise and her family. Enjoy!) _

To say that the guest rooms at the Vallière estate were large was an understatement. Crosby estimated that they could park their Blackhawk helicopter in his bedchambers, and wouldn't even need to fold the blades. Everything in this mansion seemed large and excessively gaudy, even compared to the royal palace in Tristiania. He sighed and looked down at the clothes on the bed.

The pinkette's older sister Éléonore had showed him to the cavernous guest room, and after disdainfully looking at his weathered armor and stained fatigues indicated to him that formal attire at dinner was customary. At the time he resisted the urged to threaten her with the dirty sock, and instead shrugged.

"As bad luck would have it, my lady, I left my tuxedo back in Dubai."

Éléonore stared at him as if he had just spoken a foreign language, and huffed, turning on her heels. As she left she spoke over her shoulder.

"As your bad luck would have it, Sir Crosby, my little sister had the foreknowledge to pack your formal attire in her luggage. I will have it delivered to your chambers momentarily. In the meantime I suggest you make liberal use of your chamber's extensive bathing facilities."

Crosby recalled that if she was still in range he would have stuffed the dirty sock into that smug bespectacled bitch's mouth. His thoughts were interrupted by the mantle clock chiming half past. He sighed and reached for the frilled linen shirt.

* * *

><p>At exactly six o'clock he, with directions help from one of the butlers, entered the dining hall. It was roughly half the size of a football field with darkly stained wood paneling and portraits of severe-looking nobles staring out imperiously at the room's inhabitants. Crosby adjusted his cravat and entered. Countess Vallière stood up from her chair, and her three daughters followed suit.<p>

"Good evening, Sir Crosby, welcome."

She gestured with her hand towards and empty seat next to Louise.

"Please sit."

He gave a flourishing bow.

"Duchess Vallière, thank you."  
>She gave a small smile.<p>

"You may address me as Karin, Sir Crosby, if you wish."

Crosby nodded, and noticed as he took his seat that the dining room table could have served at least thirty guests. Servants appeared seemingly out of nowhere to serve him some sort of hot consommé from a steaming tureen. The Zulu Squad sergeant gingerly tried to take in his soup without either slurping or getting it on his cravat. Honestly he hadn't felt this self-conscious since that fateful evening at 'Shake N' Bake' NCO school when the top graduates got to dine at the Commandant's table. And there he thought his dress mess kit was ridiculous and over the top. The countess cleared her throat.

"Sir Crosby, how did you come to be a Chevalier and a bodyguard to my daughter?"

Crosby wiped non-existent soup from his already clean lips.

"The princess charged Louise with a very secret mission, and asked that I accompany her as her bodyguard. Before that I had lead a team of students to apprehend the thief Fouquet."

He shrugged.

"I guess after that a promotion was in order."

The middle sister, whose name if he remembered properly was Cattleya or something like that, spoke up.

"Louise tells me you came from another world! Is that true?"

Crosby nodded.

"It is. Louise summoned me from a far-off place, another world, to be exact."

Cattleya leaned forward eagerly.

"Oh, really! What was it like?"

He shook his head.

"The place I came from wasn't very pleasant. It was a desert, and a place of violence."

He looked over to Louise.

"If your sister hadn't summoned me, I probably would have been dead."

Éléonore huffed contemptuously.

"So you were a commoner, then!"

Crosby narrowed his eyes.

"No, I'm a soldier. A mid-level commander, if you must be specific. Where I come from, magic is fiction, and the only nobles are powerless figureheads. In my world the commoners, as you call them, run things."

The older sister opened her mouth to retort, but a stern look from the duchess made her shut it again. She instead looked over to Louise.

"Mother, you must tell Louise to quit the Academy and stay home, she is a failure at the school!"

Louise glared at her older sister and slammed both her tiny hands on the table.

"I am not a failure! I'm improving my powers, and I was charged with the princess to complete a secret mission, it is important for the war effort!"

Crosby facepalmed internally. It was understood that nobody outside the academy and the royal court were to know about the 33rd's new secret weapon, their AC-130 Spectre gunship. It would have been too much to ask that she keep her pride buttoned up.

Her sister sniffed.

"Hmph! I heard rumors of that wild-goose chase the princess sent you on, to find some imaginary dragon that lives in the desert."

The pinkette was about to retort when she felt a heavy hand on her forearm, she looked up at her bodyguard, who silently shook his head.

Crosby hoped she would get the message, though the Vallière family weren't Albion spies, the less people that knew about their secret weapon, the better. To her credit, Louise calmed down and looked down at her plate.

"It was a secret mission, I can't discuss it anyways."

Silence again descended on the table as the servants cleared the soup plates and replaced them with a main course. The duchess turned to her youngest daughter.

"What about your familiar Louise, this Saito? Did he not come from the same world as Sir Crosby?"

Louise nodded emphatically.

"Yes, he is! And his runes make him a very powerful familiar!"

The duchess continued, and her voice, though soft, had a dangerously casual slant to it.

"Éléonore tells me that you almost destroyed the servant's carriage because of some maid."

The older sister almost said something, but a icy glance from her mother made her stop. The duchess continued.

"My question, dear daughter, is do you have feelings for this commoner?"

The pinkette turned as pink as her hair.

"N-no, it's not like that! He is just my familiar!"

Crosby chuckled to himself but very wisely stayed out of the conversation and focused instead on his pheasant. Her older sister huffed.

"If that is the case, then you won't object to another engagement. We must get on with getting you a new fiancé."

She turned to the countess.

"Mother, I hear that the second son of Prince Albrecht is of age, and would make a suitable alliance."

That caused Louise to do a spit-take with her wine.

"What?!"

As the conversation degenerated into an argument between older and younger sisters, Crosby tried to focus on his food. There's no point in trying to interject, he'd probably just pull back a bleeding stump. Then Louise poked a hornet's nest by bringing up Éléonore's failed engagement to some Count of Burgundy. Fire seemed to erupt around the older sister and her eyes seemed to glow. Not for the first time did the Zulu Squad sergeant wonder how the females of this world seemed so over the top and dramatic. Not something he wanted to stick around and witness, so he turned to the Duchess.

"Lady Karin Vallière I thank you for your hospitality, but I must beg leave and seek out my subordinate."

The duchess, for her part, seemed to understand his discomfort and nodded.

"Thank you for honoring us with your company, Sir Crosby."

She looked over to Louise and Éléonore, who were almost nose to nose in their argument, no mean feat since a table still separated them.

"I apologize that my children are not as well-behaved as I would like."

Crosby didn't know how to respond to that without insulting her or her offspring, so he made a small bow and left as quickly as was polite. As he shook his head.

"No wonder Louise is so messed up. I'd be too if I was part of a family dynamic that is one giant clusterfuck."

_(Honestly I had trouble with the back and forth between Louise and her older sis, so if some of the dialog doesn't flow as naturally it's because I spent so much time cutting and reinserting and repasting. Hopefully it was okay. Next chapter should be up either Saturday or Sunday.)_


	60. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

_(AN: I'm so sorry this took longer than expected. Work's been nuts, and a few minor disasters on the personal front have delayed much of my recreational activities, including this. Another short chapter, like I said it's just some more development of Louise's character and some more humorous bits before we get into the war.)_

Crosby was lost. He felt like he had been wandering the halls of the Vallière estate for hours, and still had not found the servant's quarters. Just how big was this damned house, he thought to himself. Finally, after passing what seemed to be the same pair of French doors in exasperation he flung them open and walked out into the darkness. The night was cool and a sweet breeze tickled Crosby's nostrils, by the smell of it he was in some sort of rose garden. A noise caught his attention and he saw Lugo sitting on a bench.

"I thought you'd be hitting the sack about now, Lugo."

The Delta sniper smiled, although his characteristic humor seemed eclipsed.

"Thought you'd be still noshing with the nobles, what happened, the consommé was too cold?"

Crosby shook his head.

"It was a clusterfuck of the first degree. You ever been to a family reunion dinner where all little kids are squabbling and everything's about two sentences away from a food fight?"

Lugo nodded, and the Zulu Squad sergeant continued.

"Let's just say for once in a long time I actually feel sorry for Louise. Her older sibling is a bullying bitch, and her mom is distant. I don't think she outright hates her kids, but this whole stuck-up noble thing must also apply to their parenting skills."

Lugo shrugged.

"Maybe we should introduce the countess to some of Dr. Spock's books on child-rearing."

"Too late for that."

Crosby sat down on the stone bench next to Lugo. For the first time since he arrived here he wished he still had his smokes. He looked the Delta sniper and noticed something was off.

"You didn't answer my question, sergeant. Why are you still up, did you and Siesta have a fight?"

The Delta sniper's cheerful expression sobered. Crosby understood.

"What was it about?"

Lugo shook his head.

"Well, after we got settled in, and by the sound of it had a better dinner than you did, we got to talking. About the future, specifically our future."

Crosby nodded.

"And?"

"Well, Siesta brought up the big 'M' word, and I guess that's when the reality of the sitch hit me."

The older sergeant smiled.

"Look, Lugo you can't be naïve enough to think that this little relationship you were having with a French maid would come to this point, weird world of magic notwithstanding."

The Delta sniper looked up at Crosby.

"No no sarge, it's not like that, I know this girl is the one for me, I pretty much knew that the moment I laid eyes on her and rescued her. It's just…"

"Just what, sergeant?"

Lugo looked down at his boots.

"Siesta said pretty much point blank that we should get married right away, before the shit hits the fan."

He smiled, and a hint of the old Lugo returned.

"Actually she didn't say anything about the shit hitting the fan, but she wants us to be married before the war starts."

Crosby pressed on.

"And what did you say, Lugo?"

Lugo nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, I told her that getting married before some war starts, especially if you're getting married to a soldier, isn't exactly a great idea because of, you know, what happens in war."

The older NCO groaned.

"And let me guess, she broke out into tears."

Lugo nodded.

"Yep, Niagara Falls didn't even come close in sheer liquid volume. She accused me of stalling, then tearfully hugged me and said she was afraid of me dying in this war, and then said I was using the war as an excuse to not commit."

He shook his head again.

"I tell you sarge, these gals have some serious mood swings. I'm lucky we were in our room and that her frying pan of doom was out of arm's reach."

He looked back to Crosby.

"Anyways, I told her I needed some air and some time to think, and here I am."

Sgt. Crosby was silent for a long time. He finally sighed and spoke up.

"Look, sergeant, we're about on equal footing from a command standpoint, so I can't really order you around. I'd ask that you hear me out as a colleague."

A more characteristic grin spread across Lugo's face.

"Damn straight sarge, I'm an E5, and don't forget that!"

Crosby returned the grin.

"I'm an E7, don't you forget that, sergeant."

"And I'm special forces, so don't **_you_** forget that, sarge."

They both shared a chuckle, and Crosby continued.

"Alright, so before it turns into a cock-measuring contest, hear me out. I understand where you're coming from. I got married right out of high-school, as soon as I graduated boot camp."

He smiled at the recollection.

"I remember being so proud of having that private stripe on my dress uniform, and my marksman badge."

The Delta sniper spoke up.

"Weren't you scared, when your gal brought up the big 'M' word, I mean?"

He looked back at Lugo.

"Not really, of course I was getting ready to ship off to Fort Benning for basic. Roxy had said she would take care of all the planning and particulars. And yeah, I got letters from her telling me about all the stuff she was planning for our wedding, but to be honest, my head was elsewhere."

Lugo grinned.

"Yeah, like making sure your cot's corners were tight so you wouldn't get latrine detail, right?"

Crosby nodded.

"Then I graduated, and she was there waiting for me afterwards. I remember her dad whisked me off to some dive bar there in Columbus, I swear it was some cinder block dump with a corrugated metal roof, to buy me a drink as part of my 'bachelor party.' It was only after I poured that shot of bourbon down my throat that it hit me. I thought to myself, crap, I'm now in the world's most dangerous profession, where getting shot at is part of the job description, and here I am getting married."

He looked over to Lugo.

"Well, my face must have been an open book to my father-in-law to be, because he told me something, something that I'll tell you."

Lugo leaned in.

"What was that, sarge?"

"He told me, 'Son, I know what's running through your head, you're in the Army now, and although we're not at war now, that could change. You're thinking why the hell am I getting married when a year from now I could be in some foreign country getting shot at. The thing to remember is, right now is the most important day of your life, and will be the happiest time you and your bride to be, my daughter, will have. Don't waste that time worrying about what may happen, but cherish these moments."

He looked over to the younger soldier.

"So I'll tell you the same thing; forget about the Reconquista, forget about the war, forget about all that, and focus on what happiness you and that little maid have. Even if it's only for a short while. Because trust me, that happiness is worth it. A lifetime of regret isn't."

Lugo seemed thoughtful for a while, and then suddenly grinned.

"Wow sarge, who would have thought your hidden talent was couples therapy. You really should get your own talk show."

He stood up and made a dramatic gesture.

"I can see it now; 'The Robert Crosby Show, helping couples get in touch with their inner feelings.'"

It was too much, both of them burst out laughing, causing one of the windows by the servant's quarter's to open. Neither of them could make out what was being said, but the gist of it was that one of the butlers disapproved of loud noises outside his window after hours. Lugo recovered first and stood up.

"All joking aside, thanks. I really appreciate it, sarge."

Crosby stood up as well.

"Glad to help, sergeant. Now come on, let's get you back to your quarters, and maybe you can help me navigate this colossal estate."

* * *

><p><strong>(five minutes later)<strong>

By the time they reached the servant's quarters, Crosby had just about gotten his bearings. He was about to say something when Lugo froze and drew his sidearm. Crosby reached for his Desert Eagle, which was in a custom leather holster clipped to the belt of his formal wear. He noticed that one of the doors was ajar. The Delta sniper leaned in and whispered to Crosby.

"That door was shut when I left, sarge."

Crosby nodded, and crept up to the door. He made eye contact with Lugo, and gestured that he would breach and Lugo would secure the room. Lugo nodded, and watched as the older sergeant counted back from five on his free hand. At zero Crosby flung open the door and Lugo checked the room.

There, in his bed, was Siesta in her bedclothes, and she wasn't alone. Crosby saw that the other occupant in the bed had hot pink hair, and to add to the insanity of the moment, the pinkette was in the process of embracing the maid. Both of the girl's eyes were closed, and then without warning Louise leaned in and kissed Siesta. Before Crosby could react he heard Lugo let out a low exclamation.

"What…Daaa fuuuck?"

Crosby lowered his weapon, and at that moment that Saito walked in.

"Crosby-san, have you seen Louise, she was around here and…huh?"

He saw the scene in front of him and his eyes widened.

"Wow, did I miss something, Crosby-san?"

And at that point both of the girl's eyes opened, and focused on each other. Siesta let out a terrified squeak, and both of them blushed beet red. Louise scooted away from Siesta, falling off the bed and landed on her backside. She then noticed they weren't alone.

"This isn't what it looks like, Sir Bodyguard!"

Crosby shook his head, and Lugo spoke up.

"Y'know sarge, I should be feeling more upset, than…well…that I'm feeling right now."

Saito chimed in.

"I'm feeling pretty good about it, Mr. Lugo-san."

* * *

><p>The butler was awoken again to the sound of an explosion, then a distinctive screech that belonged the youngest Vallière daughter.<p>

"STUPID PERVERTED DOG!"

_(AN: And no, this is not what you think, this fic will have no yuri slash fic. There is a perfectly logical explanation for why Louise is in bed with Siesta and locking lips with her, a mere case of mistaken identity which will be expanded upon in the next chapter. I'm sorry this took so long. I'll try to make it up and have the next chapter up by the end of the week, schedule permitting.)_


	61. November Golf

_(AN: Wow. I was expecting a bit of a blip from the last chapter, not the deluge of response from it. It's good, and I'm very happy to have the attention, just pleasantly surprised. I thought the ending with it's…er…unique fanservice rounded out what was a sort of angsty chapter. After all, at its heart this crackfic is a Hurt/Comfort story but it's also a _FOZ_ crossover so it has to remain firmly in touch with its silly anime genre. And nothing says anime like a bit of yuri tease. As much response as it got I'm tempted to shoehorn in the arc where Louise drinks the second love potion and starts chasing all the female characters. I'll have to figure out where to put it. _

_Anways, this chapter is a flashback and will explain the circumstances leading up to the climax-_

_"huh-huh-huh, you said..."_

_*Cha-Chuk!*_

_-of last chapter. Enjoy!)_

**(Earlier, in Cattleya's chambers)**

Louise lowered her head and sighed. The first meal she had shared with her mother and her favorite sister ended with her and Éléonore almost coming to blows over their respective failed engagements. And she was very embarrassed that it happened in front of her bodyguard.

"There, there sister, don't be so distressed. Tell me more about your bodyguard, Sir Crosby."

Louise raised her head. She was in her sister Cattleya's room, seated in front of a large mirror while her sister brushed her hair. Like Louise, her sister had hair the same shade as hers.

"He is from another world, and he is a soldier, although not like any soldier I've ever met."

"He's also rather handsome, in a rugged sort of way."

Louise noticed the dreamy look in her older sister's face. She let out an uncharacteristic chuckle.

"You should have been at the school when I accidentally turned him into a teenager. No girl at the school could resist him. Even me."

Her sister perked up.

"Oh, really? Do tell!"

For the next ten minutes Cattleya sat in rapt attention while Louise told the story. At the end her older sister smiled.

"It's a shame he had to be turned back."

Louise nodded.

"Yes, although I doubt Sir Crosby would agree with you. It really rankled him."

Cattleya switched topics.

"So, about your familiar…"

The pinkette looked startled.

"N-no, as I told Mother, there's nothing between me and Saito!"

Her sister smiled.

"So that's your familiar's name? Interesting..."

Louise blushed as pink as her hair. Cattleya patted her reassuringly.

It's alright, sister. You can tell me anything, and I won't be angry like Éléonore. Besides, you're at the age where falling in love is a natural thing."

Louise shook her head vehemently.

"I-I told you, I'm not in love with my familiar!"

There was a mischievous glint in her sister's eye.

"I never said you were in love with your familiar…"

* * *

><p><strong>(Later)<strong>

Louise tossed and turned. Her sister had invited her to sleep in her chambers, and it was large enough to accommodate both of them. She couldn't shake the emotions that churned about in her head. As if on queue her sister spoke up.

"Still thinking about your familiar, sister?"

Louise rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.

"I-I told you, sister, I don't love Saito!"

There was a rustling noise, and Louise felt the covers pulled off her head, and saw Cattleya smiling at her slyly.

"As I said earlier, I never said you were in love with your familiar."

Louise huffed and tried to pulled the covers back over her head, but her sister resisted the move.

"You could go to him, and tell him how you feel."

The pinkette started to protest, but finally relented and sat up. Cattleya released the covers and Louise wrapped them around herself like a cloak.

"Fine, I'll go to him and tell him how I really feel, but I don't love him!"

She turned and heard her sister call out to her as she left the room.

"Keep telling yourself that, sister."

* * *

><p>In the hallway Louise was rehearsing the talk she was going to have with her familiar. She was going to set him straight, to 'clear the air' as her bodyguard Sir Crosby once said.<p>

"It's not like I like you or anything!" she said out loud, "You're my familiar, and I am your master! It's just that as your master I care about your well-being and-"

She caught herself and stopped.

"N-no! That's what I meant…you're a commoner and I'm a noble, so even if I did have feelings for you-"

Louise paused and shook her head.

"Stupid familiar! Stupid, stupid Saito, making me have feelings for you! Making me…"

She paused and sighed wistfully.

"Making me love you…"

* * *

><p>Siesta was sound asleep. After the emotional argument with Lugo, she stayed up, hoping that he would come back, so she could apologize for her rash behavior. Finally she fell asleep, but her dreams had put her in a much happier state of mind.<p>

There was her boyfriend Lugo, and just like in her romance novels, he had rode up on a black stallion, with an ornate harness and a tasseled saddle like the desert dwellers of Nepthys. And just like in her novels Lugo was bare from the waist up, clad only in a pair of black breeches and boots like the kind Sir Crosby wore. In the distance she could see a smoldering battlefield on a vast plain of sand, with large metal war-wagons ablaze and a wrecked airship.

Lugo rode up to Siesta and she stared with undisguised lust at her boyfriend. His rippling chest bulged with muscles, crisscrossed with scars that only enhanced his raw masculinity and heightened her yearning for him. She noticed that there was some sort of pendant around his neck. His hair was longer, almost shoulder length and bound up in thin red headband. He reached out with an arm like a tree trunk and effortlessly pulled Siesta up into the saddle with him. She could smell the coppery scent of sweat mingled with the heady musk of his scent. He spoke in a deep voice through the corner of his mouth.

"Come to me, my sweet Siesta, and we'll ride out into the sunset together!"

* * *

><p>Louise crept quietly through the servant's quarters. It was late enough that even the head butler had gone to bed. She paused in front of Saito's quarters. What if her familiar was already asleep? Inwardly she debated whether or not to wake him so she could give him a piece of her mind, or wait until morning.<p>

She shook her head as if to cast away that thought. Come morning she mind lose her nerve, and she wanted to do this. Cautiously she opened the door, and though her eyes didn't adjust to the darkness she could see her familiar sleeping in the bed. Silently she crept over to his bed and slipped between the covers to be with him. She reached out to stroke his face, and leaned in to kiss him.

* * *

><p>As her boyfriend pulled her close, Siesta felt it odd that his large hands felt so soft. Then as his chiseled faced touched hers, oddly soft, she drew in a sharp breath as his lips touched hers.<p>

And she woke up, to see Louise kissing her. She let out a terrified squeak, and the noble's eyes shot wide open and focused on her. Louise let out a yelp as well and scooted off the bed. It was then that Siesta noticed her boyfriend and Sir Crosby were standing in the doorway, staring in shock. For her part Louise was in state of panic, she blushed and looked over at her bodyguard and Mr. Lugo.

"W-wait, Sir Crosby! This isn't what it looks like!"

And just at that moment she saw that her familiar was there, too. She didn't even hear what her bodyguard or Mr. Lugo said, but she did hear what her familiar said, and it made her blood boil. And her old temper returned.

"Ssssaitooo! YOU STUPID PERVERTED DOG!"

_(There you have it, a bit more yuri teasing for those who wanted a bit more. I know it's a bit short, and I deliberately modeled Siesta's dream sequence after those hokey romance novels and bodice-rippers from the 70's and 80's, right down to the dialogue. And bonus points to anyone who gets the not-so-subtle 'easter egg' reference I tossed in there. Next week is going to be hectic, but I'll try and get an update by the end of the week.)_


	62. Alpha Mike Foxtrot

_(AN: Looks like the update schedule is going to be once a week, on Saturday or Sunday, weather permitting. Work has me busy enough that I don't have the spare time during the week that I had, so this will have to do. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)_

Crosby had barely enough time to take cover when he saw the pinkette raise her wand. After the blast spots danced across his vision and his ears were ringing. He looked over to Saito, who burnt black and twitching, although still alive. He looked back and saw Siesta had wisely taking cover under the bed, and Louise was still glaring at her familiar.

"With respect, my lady, you have to control that temper of yours!"

She was about to let out a retort when a cry was heard throughout the mansion.

"Thief! A thief has stolen the Duchess' Wind Magic ring!"

Crosby had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He turned to Lugo.

"Lugo, you're with me, I have a feeling I know who this thief is and I don't have time to gear up."

He looked over to Louise.

"Stay here."

* * *

><p>Outside there was a gaping hole in the side of the Vallière estate, and Crosby saw a familiar looking golem. A figure wrapped in a cloak leapt out of the hole and onto the golem's shoulder. When Crosby saw her green hair he knew exactly who the thief was. Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth. He heard rumors that the thief had been broken out of prison by Reconquista sympathizers. It would appear they were correct. He leaned over to Lugo, who was sighting the Golem with his Scout Tactical.<p>

"Think you can pick off Fouquet from this distance, sergeant?"

Lugo grinned.

"Does a bear shit in the woods? Please, sarge, she's like 100 yards away, I could give her a haircut with my eyes closed."

Crosby shook his head.

"Just make it quick, if she sights our position we're toast without my grenade launcher."

Their conversation was interrupted by someone crying out in terror. They both looked up and saw a familiar pink-haired girl standing in the makeshift opening the thief made. It was one of Louise's sisters. She appeared to have tried a spell but was caught by Fouquet before she could get an incantation off. Through the sights of his sniper rifle Lugo could see that the thief was holding the girl at wandpoint.

"Fuck it, I'm taking the shot."

He fired, and Crosby watched as the Golem seemed to instinctively raise one of its massive pillar-like arms, and blocked the shot. The thief Fouquet turned and laughed.

"Aha, I was wondering when the little brat's bodyguard would show up. Come out of your hiding place, or the girl dies!"

She brandished the wand at the girl's throat to emphasize the point. Crosby started to rise.

"Hand me your TAR-21, Lugo and keep out of sight. If you get the shot, take it."

Lugo nodded and unslung his assault rifle. He handed the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Try not to break it, sarge. Replacement parts are hard to get."

In spite of the dire situation Crosby smiled wryly at the sniper's joke. He turned back to where the Golem was and shouted.

"Alright, Fouquet, you win. I'm coming out, just don't hurt the girl!"

Crosby pushed aside the hedge that he was crouching behind and slowly walked towards the Golem. He heard Fouquet's voice ring out.

"That's far enough, bodyguard. Now drop your weapon."

Crosby complied.

"Your turn, thief. Release the girl!"

Fouquet smiled evilly at the soldier.

"Perhaps I should take her as a hostage, so I'm not followed."

The Zulu Squad sergeant's mind raced. If Fouquet left with the Vallière sister in tow, they couldn't pursue for fear of hurting her. And letting her go with the hostage was out of the question. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Louise's voice.

"Cattleya!"

He turned and saw Louise standing there in her nightshirt, brandishing her wand, with Saito close behind. Crosby waved back.

"Stay back, both of you! That's an order!"

The pinkette's eyes were wide with fright, and she was crying.

"P-please, Sir Crosby, save my sister!"

He turned back and saw the thief laughing.

"As charming as this reunion is, tell the little brat and her familiar to stay back, or her darling sister dies."

Crosby called up to the thief.

"This isn't what you want, Fouquet. Face it you don't want to have to drag some rich brat clear over the Albion."

Crosby pointed a finger himself.

"I challenge you to a duel, Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth. If you win, I will leave willingly as your prisoner."

The thief shook her head.

"This must be a trick…"

The soldier saw Fouquet's bandaged hands and an idea sprang into his mind.

"How are your hands faring these days, thief?"

He saw the thief glare at him. For a moment it looked as though Fouquet was going to kill him right there with a spell, but then she roughly shoved Cattleya aside.

"I rotted in that jail cell, vowing I would take my revenge against the man who maimed me."

Fouquet raised her wand.

"And now I have that opportunity."

She let off an incantation, and Crosby barely was able to dodge a giant boulder being throw at him. Quickly he took cover behind one of the fountains. He saw that Saito had managed to rescue Louise's sister from falling and the three of them were crouched on the other side of the courtyard. He ducked and rolled away just as the fountain was pulverized by the Golem. Crosby glanced over to where the TAR-21 was. If he could just get to it-

Then he felt like a freight train hit him, and for a moment his vision swam. Then his foot felt like it was encased in cement, and he was being dragged on the ground. Then he felt his body leave the ground. His vision cleared up enough to realize he was upside down, and dangling in the grip of the golem. He could see Fouquet pointing her wand at him, gloating.

Then another loud crack echoed through the courtyard, and Fouquet flinched, clutching her shoulder. And the Golem dropped him. Right before he hit the ground he knew it was going to hurt.

* * *

><p>Saito looked up to where the sound of the shot came from. It must be Sgt. Lugo who fired the shot. But now the thief knew where he was hiding. He knew he had to do something. He drew Derflinger and turned to Louise.<p>

"Stay here with your sister."

Saito brandished the sword and advanced on the Golem. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sgt. Crosby on the ground. He wasn't positive, but he thought that the Zulu Squad sergeant was still breathing. As if to answer his question the sword spoke up in Derflinger's voice.

"Don't worry about the sarge, buddy, he'll live! Let's take on this dirty thief!"

Saito nodded and called up to Fouquet.

"Face the combined wrath of Gandálfr and Derflinger, Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth!"

The Golem turned and thief laughed down at Saito.

"So, the little brat's familiar wants to play hero, too?"

She fired off another boulder spell at the boy, only to see his sword glow and effortlessly slice the boulder in half. A chill ran up Fouquet's spine.

Saito felt the rune on his wrist burn and glow, and the sword spoke up, this time it was McPherson's voice.

"Brace for impact, kid. This is gonna suck, for all of us."

An intense battle aura flared up around Saito and his sword, and then in an instant there was a blinding flash of blue light.

* * *

><p>Lugo watched through his Scout's scope as Saito's old rusty sword powered up, and the swirling ball of energy coalescing around the boy. Then his world went white, as if a strobe light had gone off. When he recovered, he saw that the massive golem was destroyed, and Saito was on the ground, passed out. He saw there was another figure sprawled out on the ground. A figure he recognized.<p>

* * *

><p>Lt. McPherson's ears were still ringing from the blast, and he pushed himself up from the ground. Then he realized that he could feel the grass, and could see it normally. As reality dawned on him he looked down and saw that he was back in his old 33rd ACU's wearing the same kit he was killed in. If that was the case…<p>

Quickly he looked over where Saito was laying on the ground, and crouched by him. A quick check to the pulse told the soldier that the kid was still alive, just unconscious. The voice of the thief interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and saw Fouquet pointing her wand at him and Saito. Instinctively he put himself in front of Saito's prone form.

"Ok lady, so you got your ass handed to you by a kid, you still have the ring. Leave now and nobody gets hurt."

Fouquet threw her head back and laughed. Her wounded shoulder was bound by a makeshift bandage from her cloak, it was clear she held all the cards in this deck.

"Foolish human, I will not leave until I have my revenge. First I'll take care of you and that brat's familiar, then I'll finish off her bodyguard, then I'll-"

A loud cannon-like shot rang out, and Fouquet's hand, the one holding her wand, exploded in a red mist of sinew and bone fragments. McPherson ignored the scream of pain coming from the thief, and looked over where the shot came from. There was Sgt. Crosby, the Zulu Squad leader, his formalwear stained and bloodied, propping himself up by one elbow. In his free hand was a Desert Eagle, pointing right at the thief. The Zulu Squad sergeant spoke out in a rasp.

"Alpha Mike Foxtrot, bitch!"

Before he could fire the shot, the thief sprang away, and his shot went wild. Fouquet perched on one of the canopies of the estate, and was cradling the bleeding stump of her hand in what was left of her cloak. She called out in a harsh voice.

"I will not forget this, Bodyguard, you will pay for what you have done, and if it takes a thousand years I will have my revenge!"

But Crosby did not hear it, he had already passed out. Oddly enough, before he closed his eyes he swore he saw Lt. McPherson trying to protect the kid. Odd. The last thing he heard was the pinkette calling out his name.

_(AN: This was a bit of a highwire balancing act, from a writing perspective. I've noticed in the stories that every fight Crosby or any of the other soldiers get into is a one-sided curbstomp battle with poor Saito and the mages on the sidelines, so I wanted to balance this out and have Saito save the day, so he could rescue Louise and help advance the relationship. Hopefully I did a good job. And before anyone throws the bullshit flag on having Ludicrous Gibs in the last shot, do a youtube video search at what a .50 caliber Action Express round does to a watermelon. Seriously, it's quite cool. And hey, now Lt. McPherson is human again!)_


	63. Charlie Mike

_(AN: I had this chapter stubbed out for a while, and finally had some downtime this evening to churn it out real quick. Hope you enjoy!)_

Crosby opened his eyes to find himself lying down. He looked around and saw that he was still in his guest quarters. And he saw a beautiful green-haired lady sitting on the edge of the bed. What caught his attention was the look of concern on Tinúviel's radiant face.

**_"_****_Your hurt runs deep, Robert Crosby, and your wounds are grievous. But it is not your time; your pattern has not run its course and still must continue within the weave of this Tapestry."_**

He smiled weakly.

"Guess I'm going to have to sit out the rest of the football season, huh?"

The Weaver smiled.

**_"_****_Still the jester, even in the midst of your suffering. Such is the dichotomy of the soldier."_**

She reached down and took one of his bandaged and bloodied hands in her own.

**_"_****_The healers in this world cannot mend what was injured, so I have come for a more direct approach."_**

She lifted his hand to her face, and pressed his palm to her cheek. He could feel the softness of her skin and her green tresses tickle, even through the bandages, but what was odd was the warming sensation, and the throbbing pain subsided through his arm. The sensation spread to his shoulder, and across his chest. He also noticed that she was still holding his hand to her cheek, and smiling at him.

"That's some powerful magic you have there, ma'am."

Tinúviel giggle and stroked the side of his face with her other hand. The same warming sensation dulled the burning ache of his injuries-induced fever. She released his hand, and gently placed it back down, then continued to speak.

**_"_****_In this upcoming war, you will need all your strength and all your companions if you are to triumph against the enemies of this world, and the evil forces that they treat with."_**

Crosby felt well enough to sit up, or at least attempt to, only to be gently pushed back down by her. He spoke up.

"Speaking of curve-balls, any particular reason why you invited Willy Pete to the party?"

Her delicate brow furrowed, as if she were weighing something in her mind.

**_"_****_T'is true that it was I plucked the various weapons from your world, and just as it t'was I who gave Konrad and your companions the clues to find them, for they will be of aide to you in this war. As for the hellfire that burns without quenching, that was the test of which I spoke of before."  
><em>**

The old soldier was slightly taken aback by her reverting to her enigmatic riddle-ridden diction. Then she smiled again at him.

**_"_****_Worry not, you and your companions will make the right decisions that will be instrumental in their redemption. It will not be easy, but it will not a choice between two evils, as was in your world."_**

As she spoke, she waved her hands over his body, and her healing touch continued. He could see golden motes gliding down from her slender fingers that washed over his wounded body and it warmed him to his core, like being emerged in a warm bath. It was in that moment that he understood her parable.

"I get it, the Willy Pete, we have to decide whether to use it or just use the Geneva Convention approved ordnance, right?"

She smiled but did not respond and continued gliding her hands over his body, she started singing softly in a language he couldn't understand but sounded beautiful.

Crosby could almost feel himself made whole, and then he realized she had stopped singing and healing him. She was instead looking right at him, her face getting closer to his. She leaned in and he closed his eyes, waiting for the kiss, for the soft lips to touch his.

And then he heard Lugo's voice.

"C'mon sarge, up and at `em! You can do it, open up those baby blues."

He opened his eyes and saw Tinúviel smiling at him, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and sat up.

**_"_****_It would appear your companion needs you. Another time, perhaps."_**

Crosby shook his head, but he did get the last word in, one that caused her to giggle uncontrollably like a schoolgirl.

"You're a real tease, you know that?"

He didn't even get a chance to hear her comeback, but felt bright light blinding him as he opened his eyes. Crosby found himself in bed. Sure enough it was his guest quarters, just like in his dream. Instead of the Weaver it was Sgt. Lugo that was standing over him. Crosby grimaced and shook his head.

"You could have waited a few more minutes, sergeant."

The Delta sniper grinned.

"Did I interrupt a wet dream or something?"

The wounded soldier returned the grin.

"No, but I was inches away from getting kissed by a certain green-haired lady."

Lugo looked shocked, but chuckled.

"Well, sorry to cockblock you, but the servants who were tending to you said that you were about to wake up."

Crosby sat up in bed, or tried to, and instantly regretted it. He lay back down.

"How long have I been out?"

Lugo was silent for a while.

"Dude, you almost died. You were clinging, and I mean clinging by your short and curlies for almost four days. And that's with the Duchess and her powerful four square Heavy Wind magic, and some best medicine and healers that nobles can buy."

He paused.

"For a couple of moments they genuinely thought you were going to buy the farm, when I said you almost died I mean you were quite literally dead for a few seconds. Pinkie was in hysterics, Saito wasn't much better, he wanted to go and get someone, anyone from the Academy to help. Then something happened."

Crosby knew what Lugo was about to say.

"It was the night before last, your vitals were jumping all over the place, then your heart stopped. The healers were scrambling, trying everything to get your heart to restart, hell I almost gave you my last adrenaline shot. Then, all of a sudden, out of the blue your heart restarted, and you started to heal. Your vitals stabilized, and by morning all your bones knitted back together. And all yesterday your various wounds and contusions healed."

The Delta sniper took off his ballcap and rubbed his hair.

"Hell, if we were back on Earth, I would have said it was a miracle…"

He caught the sly look on Crosby's face.

"Okay, sarge, spill. What do you know? What happened?"

"The Lady, who calls herself Tinúviel, told me that my number wasn't up, and decided to interverne. She healed me."

He looked down at himself.

"I guess she wanted me to continue the mission, so to speak."

Lugo grinned again.

"Well, that would explain it, and for the record I am sorry for interrupting you two swapping spit, but I did have a reason."

He turned towards the door.

"You have several visitors, starting with Pinkie and her boyfriend."

Crosby nodded.

"Might as well show them in, I'm well enough to talk to you might as well get this out of the way."

Lugo turned to open the door, but pause.

"Oh, by the way, I'll have you know I spent most of yesterday cleaning the barrel of my TAR-21 out. One of the servants who was cutting the grass found it jammed full of dirt, thanks to you."

Crosby smiled and was about to say something when the door burst open and Louise came running in, with Saito hot on her heels. Before either Crosby or Lugo could speak, she ran up to Crosby and wrapped her arms around his neck, almost smothering him with her pink hair.

"Oh, Sir Crosby! I thought you were going to die! I'm so glad you're alive!"

Crosby puffed some of her hair out of his face and gently pulled her off him. He smiled at her and brushed some tears off her face.

"I couldn't die, my lady, I swore an oath to protect you, and you haven't released me from that oath."

She smiled through her tears.

"I-I prayed to Brimir for a miracle, that if He would heal you, I would be a good noble and be a better master to my familiar!"

Louise clasped her tiny hands in one of his own.

"And He answered my prayers!"

Crosby and Lugo shared a knowing look, then the older soldier looked over to Saito.

"So kid, I assume the thief didn't damage your 'Bird, did she?"

Saito shook his head emphatically.

"No, she fled right away. I ended up using it to ferry some of the mages and healers when you were, ah, you know…"

"Ah, Sir Crosby! You're awake!"

Crosby looked up and saw it was her older sister, Cattleya. She looked over to Louise.

"Mother is looking for you, Louise."

The pinkette nodded, and after smiling one last time at Crosby left the room with Saito. Cattleya smiled at the wounded soldier.

"I never did thank you for saving me, Sir Crosby. That was a very brave thing."

Crosby smiled.

"Or very stupid. Going toe-to-toe with an Earth Golem might be brave, but not very smart."

She shared a laugh with him, then bowed.

"I must be off, but I wanted to thank you when I found you were awake. May Brimir bless you!"

After the pinkette's sister left another soldier in familiar ACU's and a black assault vest. Instinctively Crosby saluted him.

"Lt. McPherson, sir!"

McPherson returned the salute.

"As you were, sergeant, you're still walking wounded."

Crosby smiled.

"Good to see you among the living, sir."

"Feels good to be human again. How you feeling?"

The wounded soldier shrugged.

"Sore and stiff, but I'm alive, which until recently I'm told wasn't a given."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Finally Crosby broke the silence and nodded to the Delta sniper.

"I assume you've both had a chance to talk?"

McPherson smiled.

"Yeah, Sgt. Lugo and I have cleared the air, so to speak. Honestly it was Walker that I was most pissed at, but then the green-haired Lady made me see the light, so to speak."

He chuckled.

"Turned out his girlfriend Siesta found out from the footman how to 'procure' the key to the duchess's private stash of cognac. So he and I got royally drunk once it was clear you were on the mend."

Lugo cleared his throat embarrassedly.

"Apparently I can't hold my liquor because the El-Tee drank me under the table."

They shared a laugh, but it was interrupted by a loud screech and the familiar sound of a riding crop hitting a human being. Crosby started to get up, but Lugo put a hand on his shoulder.

"Not to worry sarge, I got some dirty socks, I'll handle this."

He nodded and saluted to McPherson.

"Sir, by your leave."

Mc Mcpherson smiled and returned the salute.

"As you were, carry on and take care of our walking IED."

After the Delta sniper left, he turned back to Crosby.

"So, sergeant, I guess stuff's going to get real interesting given the recent events…"

_(AN: Another pet peeve of mine (and in fairness FOZ sort of subverts it with Saito's duel with Guiche) is that a character or an OC will get into some sort of knock-down drag out and get the sh*t kicked out of them, and then in the next story gets a few Band-Aids applied by their trusty medic and everything is fine. This chapter I wanted to show how 'Reality Ensues' and the sort of injuries someone would incur after an epic hand-to-hand battle. So hope this added some drama without making it too overwrought. Next chapter will be the last of this arc, after this we go back into the preparation for the upcoming war.)_


	64. Bravo Zulu

_(AN: Welp, here's the last chapter in this story arc, those of you who are fans of FOZ probably know how it's going to end, I figured I'd do it from a different perspective. Those who aren't, well just roll with it. Enjoy!)_

By evening Crosby felt well enough to get up. Truth be told he had already gotten out of bed around midday just to stretch his legs, and as he told Siesta, to 'visit the little soldier's privy, ' and because he was getting sick and tired of laying around doing nothing. He appreciated the servants drawing him a bath, but declined help, much to the disappointment of a young blonde maid. He didn't resist Lugo and McPherson's help when it came time to get suited up, he quickly found out just how stiff and sore his muscles were as he eased into his armor. After being caught flatfooted by Fouquet and her golem Crosby resolved not to venture out without his armor again.

The three soldiers made their way down to the servant's quarters, and then to the kitchen. The Vallière cook was a bit shocked to see the soldiers in his kitchen.

"Ah, Sir Crosby, why do you honor my humble kitchen with your presence?"

Crosby shrugged.

"Been a few days since my last meal, thought I could swing by and grab some chow."

When he noticed the perplexed look on the cook's face, Lugo spoke up.

"We were wondering if we could get some food?"

Comprehension spread across the cook's face.

"Aha, of course, by all means you may. Nothing is held back for the great chevalier who rescued Mistress Cattlya and retrieved her Ladyship's Heavy Wind ring."

He turned to Lugo.

"Little Siesta was looking for you, Mr. Lugo, I believe she was in the winter garden."

Lugo nodded and turned to Crosby.

"Think you can make it back to your room without me, sarge?"

Crosby smiled and gestured over to McPherson.

"Don't worry, if I get compass trouble I've got Lt. McPherson here to help me get my bearings."

After the Delta sniper left the other two soldiers sat down and dug into the dishes set before them with gusto. Crosby couldn't be sure but it tasted like veal in some sort of cream sauce. He and the lieutenant chatted up the cook for a while as they ate. After they finished the cook had started to clear off their plated, when suddenly he stiffened.

"Lady Vallière!"

He quickly set down the dishes and bowed. Crosby and McPherson turned around and saw the Duchess standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Both the soldiers stood up. She smiled.

"Please, gentlemen, Chef Antalone, as you were. I was informed that Sir Crosby was up, and wished to check on you."

Crosby relaxed.

"I'm doing well, my Lady. I was just having an informal dinner with one of my fellow soldiers."

She turned to give McPherson an appraising look.

"Ah, this was the one who was imprisoned in the enchanted sword, yes?"

Crosby nodded. It was funny how the countess could say such a ridiculous statement with a straight face.

"Actually he is a ranking officer, from the same military battalion that the rest of us hailed from."

McPherson saluted.

"1st Lieutenant John McPherson of the Damned 33rd, ma'am, at your service."

She smiled at the lieutenant.

"Thank you, Lt. McPherson, I have no need for your services, but if you are from the same military formation as Sir Crosby then you may remain as my guest for as long as you like."

She turned back to Crosby.

"There is something I need to discuss with Sir Crosby; in my private study, at his earliest convenience."

Crosby looked over to McPherson who just grinned and nodded.

"Carry on, sergeant."

Crosby nodded and looked back at the countess.

"Lead the way, ma'am."

* * *

><p>Crosby marveled at the Duchess' study, it looked as big as the dining room, except it was paneled in red velvet and lined with bookcases. Several high-backed settees were set along the perimeter of the room, and in the center was a large desk, behind which was a set of French doors that opened up to a balcony. Rather than take a seat behind her desk, the duchess instead stood by the window, staring out at a large pond or lake that was on the Vallière estate. Finally she closed her eyes and lowered her head.<p>

"I never can repay you for the service you rendered, Sir Crosby, so I can only offer you whatever you desire."

Crosby cocked his head to one side.

"Come again, ma'am?"

She turned to face him, her eyes full of intense emotion.

"You are my youngest daughter's bodyguard, and judging from what little Louise has said of you, you have discharged your duty with courage and honor. But that night when the thief stole this-"

She held up one of her hands, and displayed an ornate ring on her right hand.

"-Your bravery not only saw my Heavy Wind ring recovered, but also rescued the life of my beloved Cattleya, who is already so frail."

She smiled.

"She already thinks you are one of those heroic chevalier knights that the stories tell of old."

Crosby rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He was never really good at this accolades crap.

"Ma'am with all due respect, I heard from my subordinate that you spent a small fortune on healers and medicine to patch me up."

"And yet they were of no avail, it was the miracle from Brimir Himself who made you whole. You risked your life to save what was most precious to me, this is a debt I cannot ever hope to repay."

Crosby didn't know how to respond to that, so he remained quiet. The duchess turned back to look out the window. Then something caught her eye, and she turned the latch on the door and opened it. She walked out onto the balcony, beckoning Crosby to follow.

When Crosby stepped out into the night air, he noticed something on the lake. It was a boat, with two figures in it. He could see from this distance that one of the boat's occupants had pink hair. He pulled out a small pair of binoculars from his assault vest and checked. Sure enough, there was Louise and Saito in the boat. He looked up from his binoculars to see the duchess was also looking intently out on the lake. Apparently she could see just as well without magnification.

"What do you know about my youngest daughter's familiar, this commoner named Saito?"

Crosby shrugged.

"He came from the same world I came from, he's a typical teenager, and I think is a stand-up kid. Why?"

The duchess turned back to Crosby.

"But what sort of boy is he? Who are his parents? What is his lineage?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged again.

"I don't know. I've been acquainted with him for the last few months since we both ended up here about the same time. As I said, he's a good kid. And I think Louise really cares for him."

Louise's mother seemed to flinch at that comment.

"It doesn't matter. Such a thing cannot happen."

"Say what?"

She looked over to him again.

"She is a noble, the youngest daughter of one of the oldest and most influential households in all of Tristain. She cannot be married off to some commoner."

Crosby sighed. This nobles and commoner bullshit was really starting to get old.

"With all due respect, ma'am, Saito has more noble qualities than most of the nobles I've run across. He's smart, courageous, and loyal. He has his fair share of flaws, as we all do. But taking his name out of the hat just because he wasn't born into some snooty noble family is bullshit."

That caused the duchess to look at him sharply, but her eyes softened. She looked down again.

"I don't pretend to think that our system of nobles and commoners is not without its flaws. And there are many good people out there whose only crime is to be born a commoner."

She pointed to the boat, where Saito had begun rowing. Every time the oar splashed, it caused a small wave that rippled across the lake. Duchess de Vallière pointed to them.

"To challenge the status quo is to cause waves, and such waves ripple through society like water. I fear for our family's position in the royal court of Tristainia if we set such a precedent."

Crosby smiled.

"With respect, my Lady, you might find the Princess Henrietta to be more open minded than you think."

The Duchess returned his smile.

"Yes, I've heard the rumors running around about the royal court's newest war councillor, this…what is his rank and title again?"

Crosby responded.

"Colonel John Konrad."

She nodded.

"It's no secret that our young monarch seems smitten by the gallant war hero. But my youngest daughter…"

Her voice trailed off, and in the awkward silence an idea struck Crosby.

"Lady Vallière, you just told me that you owe me a debt that you can't possibly repay. That you would offer me anything."

She nodded.

"Anything you ask, I will grant."

He pressed forward.

"Anything?"

The duchess seemed a bit hesitant and blushed.

"My dearly departed husband the Duke de Vallière lies in the earth these past five years, if your interest lies in me."

Crosby immediately caught on and shook his head.

"Ah, no that's not it. It has to do with Saito and Louise."

She nodded and looked out on the lake again.

"So you would have me give my daughter away to a commoner?"

Crosby shook his head.

"No. I want you to give the kid a chance. Let him prove himself to you, but you have to keep an open mind. And if the two of them seem right for each other, I want you to give your blessing as a parent. Fair?"

Louise's mother seemed pensive.

"That is a fair agreement. Very well."

They both looked out on the lake in silence for a few minutes. Lady Vallière broke the silence again.

"My daughter Louise will want to fight in this upcoming war, and I fear I cannot prevent her."

Crosby shook his head.

"Indeed, you can't. Her Highness Princess Henrietta decreed her an envoy on a special mission, one that is critical to winning this war."

She nodded and then turned suddenly to Crosby, her manner became very formal.

"Sir Crosby, is that weapon your primary one, like your sword or wand?"

Crosby looked down at his FN P90.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking."

She nodded once and pointed to him.

"Then, Sir Crosby, genuflect and offer me your weapon."

The soldier was a bit weirded out by the countess's request, but complied. He got down on one knee and held up his submachine gun with both hands. The duchess spoke.

"I want you, Sir Crosby, to swear to me, on your honor as a Chevalier and your weapon, that you will keep my daughter safe from all harm in this war."

Crosby nodded.

"Lady Vallière, I swore an oath to protect Louise with my life, and I renew that oath to you. I swear by my weapon and on my honor, that I will keep your daughter safe, and I promise you I will bring her back safely."

The duchess was still for a moment, but then nodded.

"Then arise, Sir Crosby."

She looked out onto the lake and smiled again. She gestured out.

"Come, Sir Crosby, and look. It would appear you were correct."

Crosby pulled out his binoculars and looked out. Sure enough, the boat had stopped, and both Louise and Saito were leaning forward, both had their eyes closed and their lips getting closer and closer. Crosby felt dirty watching such an intimate moment, but he had to hand it to the kid, and the pinkette for that matter. They finally had admitted their feelings for one another.

Then a pair of speakers appeared, and a familiar voice echoed across the water.

_"__Well, well, well! Lookie here at who's finally grown a pair and gotten to 1__st__ base! This calls for a celebration!"_

Caribbean calypso music started blaring through the speakers, and both the boat's occupants flushed as pink as the pinkette's hair. The duchess recovered her shock and turned to Crosby.

"That song, I am not familiar with it."

Crosby chuckled.

"It's a tune from our world, it's called 'Kiss the Girl.' And believe it or not, it's actually pretty appropriate."

Their conversation was interrupted by a screech and a loud bang, followed by a louder explosion and the sound of glass breaking and tinkling. The duchess facepalmed.

"Oh dear, and I just had all the glass in that greenhouse replaced."

One of the large French doors flew open, and it was McPherson that came running out. He seemed out of breath.

"Sergeant, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Lugo got a radio transmission from Lt. Gordon. Konrad wants us back in Tristainia ASAP. The Reconquista is on the move."

_(AN: sorry this took so long. This concludes our little interlude with Louise's family. Next story arc is the war, the moment you've all been waiting for...Bonus points to everyone who got all the easter eggs and inside jokes with the titles. I'm hoping the next chapter should be up by the weekend. Until then!)_


	65. Human Again

_(AN: Woo-hoo! 40,000 views! Thought I would celebrate that milestone with an early update. Enjoy!) _

Dawn broke early, and the sun cast its light over the lake that was part of Vallière estate, and a greenhouse with a large hole in the side was still smoldering. The sun's bright light crept over the courtyard, where a Blackhawk helicopter was parked in the exact center. Flanking the stone walkway that led from the mansion's front door to the helicopter was every servant and maid in the Vallière household, at the head of which was the Duchess and her two older daughters. Éléonore finished embracing Louise.

"Now remember, Chibi-Louise, you must listen to Sir Crosby, he is your bodyguard and will keep you safe during the war. Understood?"

The pinkette nodded and smiled at her older sister. She wasn't sure why her older sister was being so nice, she had been that way ever since Crosby had a private chat with her. Éléonore fidgeted with her lace handkerchief.

"And…take care of yourself, little sister."

She turned and left. Cattleya also embraced her younger sister, but was more emotional about it. When the middle daughter left Louise turned to face her mother, and straightened up. There was a pregnant silence as the Lady Vallière regarded her daughter. Then she did something that shocked everyone, from Louise to Crosby and his fellow soldiers, and even the servants. She took her youngest daughter in a tight hug and held her close.

"Keep safe, my dearest child." She whispered to Louise.

The pinkette was so shocked, all she could do was nod. Then the duchess let go of her daughter, and she looked over to her daughter's bodyguard. A small smile played on the duchess' lips and she nodded to Crosby, who in turn nodded back. Then the morning's silence was broken by the sound of a turbine engine whining as it powered up. McPherson opened the door to the Blackhawk and first helped Louise and then Siesta in. Lugo followed, and as Crosby shut the door the blades started to slowly turn. He looked over to Countess Vallière.

"You might want to take a step back."

The duchess complied, and to the servant's credit they needed no encouragement to keep away from the odd metal airship with the spinning blades. Crosby then opened the door on the copilot's side and climbed in. Saito was aready slowly increasing the engine's RPMS as the Zulu Squad sergeant strapped himself in.

"About time you fired up the engines, I hate long goodbyes."

The Blackhawk's blades spun faster, causing a great whirlwind of dust and grass, and scaring off some of the maids. Then it lifted off the ground, as if it were light as a feather, turned lazily towards the sunrise and sped off. Lady Karin de Vallière was the last to leave, watching the bizarre metal airship carrying her daughter turn into a small speck on the horizon. She then lowered her head and whispered to herself.

"Please, please Brimir, bring my little Louise back to me safely."

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristain countryside, approximately 20 kilometers from Tristainia)<strong>

McPherson looked over the passenger compartment. Lugo was at the gunner's station, scanning the horizon for potential hostiles, while Louise and the maid were both sound asleep. He chuckled at the recollection of the last time they were in such close proximity, and pulled on the spare headset.

"So Saito, what's our ETA to the palace?"

The teen's voice crackled through the static.

_"__According to Crosby-san, about 5 mikes."_

The lieutenant nodded.

"Roger that, I'll let Lugo know."

_"Lt. McPherson? Can I ask you a question?"_

"Sure, kid. Shoot."

_"__What was it like, when the sword charged up, and how did you…well, you know, become freed?"_

McPherson shook his head.

"No idea. I remember a searing pain, and something that felt like those faint memories of being in a womb and being born. Then a bright flash of light, and next thing I knew I was on the ground with a splitting headache."

For a while there was nothing but static. Then Saito's voice came back on the line.

_"__Do you know what happened to Derflinger?"_

"Sorry, kid, I don't know. Before everything got bright he told me that this wasn't goodbye, whatever that meant."

Crosby's voice cut in.

_"__Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we're approaching Tristiania."_

* * *

><p>When the Blackhawk touched down in the palace's makeshift landing pad there was already a crowd of people to greet them, braving the whirlwind kicked up by the blades but still staying at safe distance until the engine whined down. McPherson exited first, followed by Lugo, who helped Siesta and Louise disembark. Crosby then slipped the catch on his harness and opened the door to exit. As he climbed out he noticed the pinkette rushing around to the other side of the `Bird where the pilot's door was, presumably to get her familiar.<p>

At the head of the crowd was Colonel Konrad. McPherson instinctively saluted.

"Sir! 1st Lieutenant McPherson reporting for war duty, sir!"

Konrad smiled, and took the lieutenant's hand to shake it.

"Good to have you among the land of the living, lieutenant. I trust you don't miss being a sword?"

McPherson grinned.

"No, sir. It was cramped and dark. And the smell was terrible. I won't even speak about the roommate sich, sir."

The colonel chuckled and stood to one side. Behind him was the princess, who smiled graciously at the lieutenant's salute. Behind her was a large imposing man with broad shoulders wearing religious vestments. His head was shaved bald and he had piercing grey eyes. Konrad gestured back to him.

"Gentlemen, this is Arch-Primate Nathaniel Garro, an envoy of Pope Vittorio's court in Romalia. He has just returned from Albion."

Crosby saluted the man, and interestingly enough the man returned his salute by bringing his right fist across his chest and bowing lightly. He smiled at the Zulu Squad sergeant's reaction and replied in a richly accented baritone voice.

"To answer the question you were about to ask, Sir Crosby, yes."

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Say what, your grace?"

The large man chuckled.

"Yes, once upon a time I was a soldier, like you."

"What happened?"

"An event occurred that shook me to my core and I was without purpose. Then I saw the light, and have now a higher calling."

Garro's face sobered as he turned back to Konrad.

"As I was telling your commander, I bring word from Albion and what I have found has me deeply troubled. I was on a diplomatic mission to inquire after the whereabouts of Romalia's Albion envoy, one Cardinal Richard Halstaff. We had not heard from him in months, so I was sent to make enquiries."

His patrician features furrowed.

"The Reconquista has mustered an army of over a thousand loyal soldiers, who have been convinced that Tristain is responsible for their beloved Prince Wales' death."

Lugo let out a low whistle at the number, and McPherson spoke up.

"How long do we have?"

Garro shook his shaved head.

"Days, perhaps a week, if the weather does not cooperate with Cromwell. I have heard his minions brag about their 'secret weapons', and there are rumors circulating around Londinium of an unstoppable creature that breathes fire."

Crosby and Konrad shared a look. If that was true, it meant they hadn't seen the last of the red dragon called Nahkriin. Their thoughts were interrupted when the bishop spoke again.

"Who among here is John Lugo?"

The Delta sniper stepped forward.

"That would be me, sir."

Garro nodded.

"And where is the young lady named Siesta?"

The soldiers parted ways to reveal the young maid, who was blushing and trembling at the sight of the large religious figure approaching her. He knelt down to be at eye level with her and gently took her chin with one large hand so he could make eye contact with her. He smiled warmly at her.

"Do not be afraid, my child. I had heard from one of your friends that you and your beloved wish to be united in matrimony before this terrible war. Is this what you wish?"

At the mention of it, Siesta's eyes lit up, and she looked over to Lugo.

"Y-yes! Yes, your Grace, very much so!"

Crosby smiled and leaned over to whisper to Konrad.

"Thanks for setting that up for me, sir."

Konrad nodded.

"Think nothing of it, sergeant."

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked over to Henrietta. The princess was smiling, but it appeared forced.

"What's wrong with the Princess, sir?"

The colonel shook his head.

"I don't know, sergeant. She's been acting very distant and distracted."

He looked over to Crosby.

"Remember Crosby, we're all professional soldiers, and we've been through hell already. She's just a girl barely out of her teens, and all of a sudden is a head of state who is currently at war with another nation. The burdens of war are probably taking a toll on her."

Crosby was about to reply when suddenly speakers appeared over Lt. McPherson's head.

_"__Well, well, well, look who's been freed from the cursed curse of being a cursed kitchen utensil! Welcome back 1__st__ Lieutenant John McPherson, here's a little ditty to dance to!"_

Another familiar showtune blared through the speakers, and as the bishop and the rest of the royal court marveled at the music, in which the talking candelabra with the French accent sang about how great it is to be Human Again, the lieutenant had a sour look on his face and turned to Crosby.

"For the record sergeant, you're not the only one who thought the Radioman was a loud-mouthed prick."

_(AN: And another shipping pair is officially paired off. I paid tribute to the # of viewer milestone with a reference to certain grimdark story. Kudos to anyone who got it. Fans of _FOZ_ know what's coming up next, this little bit of 'keet was to help balance an upcoming angsty chapter.)_


	66. WP, or Not WP, That is the Question

_(AN: I'm so, so sorry for the delay in getting this to you. Work was crazy last week, and I managed to get sick late in the week and only just now recovering. I've decided to split up this into two chapters, because this bit was pretty much done before I got sick. For you FOZ fans know what's coming up, so hope I did it justice. And for the previous chapter, kudos to __Legatus Mortis__ for catching the easter egg, and our __Spehss Mahren will have a more prominent role as Romalia gets involved in the war. In the meantime we have some more upcoming angst before the war.) _

"So Crosby, Lt. Gordon has debriefed me on the 'Steel Dragon'. What are your thoughts, sergeant?"

Crosby accepted an offered goblet of wine from a servant and looked up at his commanding officer. After meeting with the Romalian envoy the soldiers had retired to Konrad's chambers, which was another massive suite of rooms. With the privacy not an issue, it was time to discuss their latest war asset.

"Well, the AC-130 gunship is a game-changer, sir. That thing can lay waste to a entire battalion."

Konrad took a sip from his own goblet and made a face, although it wasn't the wine that made him frown.

"That's not what I was asking about, sergeant. The Willy Pete ordnance, do you think we should use it in this war?"

Crosby looked over to the other soldiers. All three of the officers, Gordon, Bowles and McPherson were impassive, but he knew where they stood. In Dubai none of their hands were clean, all three of them had used White Phosphorus mortars against either the CIA or the Insurgents. Tebby and Lugo appeared conflicted, but they would probably go along with whatever their superior's orders were, like before. Alex was different. The young sniper looked horrified and spoke up.

"Colonel Konrad, sir, with all due respect, why are we even discussing this? That shit is horrible, we can't use it!"

Tebby turned to the young sniper.

"Did someone give you a field commission when you guys were searching for the Dragon, private? Because it sounded like you were giving orders to an superior officer."

Alex glared at Tebby.

"Fuck you, Tebby! You didn't see what Willy Pete did at the Gate, I did! I saw one of my buddies cooked like barbeque, he had both his arms blown off and basically lived just long enough to ask me why the fuck this happened to him!"

"That will be enough, private."

The young sniper turned away from Tebby to look at Konrad. Alex seemed to snap out of his rant and flushed with embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It's just I don't think we should use it, that's all."

Konrad smiled at the private.

"It's fine, private. I want to hear all your opinions on this before I make a decision."

He looked over to Crosby.

"You didn't answer my question, sergeant. What do you think?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged.

"The Lady in the light, Tinúviel, mentioned it, and said it was instrumental in us confronting our demons and gaining absolution. Personally I think we can use the miniguns and not even bother with the bigger guns."

Konrad nodded.

"So use it as a close support weapon?"

"Something like that, sir."

Konrad looked over to his officers, then over to the other soldiers.

"I appreciate all your input, gentlemen. This is not a decision I plan on making lightly, but we will have to decide whether or not to use it, and in what capacity."

The colonel drained his goblet and set it down.

"On to more pleasant topics gentlemen; both Crosby and Lugo have recommended that we add one more person to the ranks of the 33rd, any objections?

* * *

><p><strong>(The following morning, the spring courtyard)<strong>

Saito was very nervous. He was wearing Benson's ACU's, the princess's royal tailors had worked on the hems and sleeves to help it fit better, and he was feeling fairly confident until he stepped outside into the courtyard. There was Colonel Konrad wearing his dress uniform, and standing next to him was Princess Henrietta. Flanking the Tokyo teen on either side were all the members of the 33rd and Agnès' newly minted Royal Sharpshooter Corps. He caught sight of the Zulu Squad sergeant. Crosby-san was standing next to Konrad, and he gave the teen an encouraging smile.

Crosby smiled as he saw Saito emerge from the palace in his new ACU's. The kid had come a long way from the time when they first met the day after being summoned to Helkeginia as a familiar. He watched as the kid, standing ramrod straight, slowly march towards the dais where the colonel and the princess were standing. Crosby saw the pinkette fidgeting next to the princess and smiled again. Louise had worked all night the previous night helping make Benson's old uniform fit Saito, and she seemed happy for Saito. The Zulu Squad sergeant hoped that the pinkette and her boyfriend had turned a corner in their relationship after that boat ride, especially now that the countess had given her blessing. His thoughts were interrupted when Saito reached the dais and saluted the colonel. Konrad returned the salute and cleared his throat.

"Your Highness, gentlemen and assembled guests: it is my honor, and my pleasure, to induct a new member to the 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion stationed here in Tristainia. Saito Higara, please step forward."

Saito stepped up, and Konrad turned and opened a wooden case offered to him by a page. He pulled out two shoulder patches, a small rank patch and a name tape and turned back to Saito. He placed the 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion patch on Saito's velcro'd right shoulder, and then placed a Blackhawk unit patch on the left shoulder. He then took the specialist rank and placed it on the velco square on Saito's chest. Finally Konrad showed the nametape.

"With this nametape consider this your field promotion."

He handed it to Saito.

"Welcome to the Damned 33rd, Specialist Saito Higara!"

Saito smiled and saluted.

"Thank you, sir!"

After the colonel returned the salute Saito looked down at his nametape and chuckled.

"Although, sir, you got my name wrong."

He grinned and pointed to his nametape.

"Saito is my given name, Hiraga's actually my family name."

Konrad smiled.

"Well specialist, if you want us to redo the nametape we can, but it could take a while."

Saito shook his head.

"No, this is great! Thank you, sir!"

Konrad stepped aside to allow Princess Henrietta to bestow an accolade on the newly promoted specialist. But young monarch had a faraway look in her eyes, and seemed distracted. After several uncomfortable minutes of silence the colonel leaned in.

"You Highness, the accolade?"

That seemed to snap Henrietta out of her reverie.

"Oh, I'm sorry John, er, Colonel Konrad, my mind was elsewhere. The upcoming war, you understand."

Konrad gave Henrietta a reassuring smile, but as soon after she officially knighted Saito as a Chevalier in the Royal Tristain Court, the princess excused herself and promptly left. Crosby looked over to Louise.

"Go after the princess, and make sure she's alright."

Louise nodded, and quickly took off after the princess. With the ceremony over, the soldiers all converged on their newest comrade. Lt. McPherson's voice spoke up through the din of other voices.

"Attention all members of the 33rd, there will be a special ceremony to formally accept Specialist Saito into our ranks at 1700 hours this evening. Attendance, along with a high blood alcohol content, is mandatory! Company dismissed!"

* * *

><p><strong>(5 minutes later, just outside the Royal Bedchambers)<strong>

"Henrietta! Your Highness, please let me in!"

Louise had been granted access to the normally restricted Royal Wing of the palace, and had been knocking on Henrietta's door for almost five minutes. She was just about to knock again when the door opened and she was greeted by Henrietta's smiling face.

"Oh, hello Louise! Please come in."

Louise accepted the invitation and followed the princess into her chambers. She watched as Henrietta walked back over towards the bed and sat down, staring at the fire burning in the fireplace. Louise finally broke the silence.

"Henrietta, er, I mean, your Highness, Colonel Konrad and his men were worried about you, you seemed very distracted at the ceremony today."

Henrietta nodded absently.

"I-I know. John has been so kind and helpful these last few weeks, and so generous in contributing to the war effort. I am horrible for repaying his kindness this way."

The princess looked up abruptly at Louise.

"Louise, my dear, can you keep a secret? A secret that you can't tell anyone, not even your familiar or your bodyguard?"

The pinkette nodded somewhat hesitatingly, and with that Henrietta stood up off the bed and walked over to an ornate vanity with a large mirror and a chair. She opened up a small drawer off to the side, and pulled out a letter. She turned back to Louise, holding up the letter.

"I saw my beloved die before my very eyes, and all after all this time I had just started to move on. But then this letter came."

Louise accepted the proffered letter, and read it. Her eyes widened as she read what written.

"B-but this is impossible!"

* * *

><p><strong>(1720 hours, the East Wing of the Palace and the unofficial barracks of the 33<strong>**rd****)**

The entire east wing of the palace echoed with loud music and raucous laughter of soldiers. Lt. Bowles had managed to finagle several kegs of ale from Scarron and Gordon had procured several bottles of wine from the royal cellars, and as a result everyone was having a good time. And the floating speakers were blaring Beastie Boys songs courtesy of the Radioman.

Even Crosby was enjoying himself, and chuckled at the sight of the newly minted specialist doing his second keg stand. He and Konrad had to put his foot down on some of the more humiliating hazing rituals that the 33rd used to do in the Rockpile, and relegated the hazing of Saito to more harmless things like drinking games and kegstands. He looked over to the keg where Tebby, Lugo and Alex were holding up Saito while the remaining soldiers were chanting.

"Chug! Chug! Chug! CHUG! CHUG!"

Gordon hollered in.

"C'mon, Specialist! Secure that last pint of ale, we don't waste booze in this unit! That's alcohol abuse!"

And it looked as though Saito was having a blast, although he looked very blitzed. Crosby looked over to where Konrad was standing. The colonel and McPherson were manning the 'grog punch' bowl, the punch was some sort of lethal concoction brewed up by the human-again lieutenant. Crosby hadn't tasted it, but Alex who had sampled it said it tasted like someone mixed grape-flavored Kool-Aid with nitroglycerine.

Meanwhile, just outside the door Louise was furiously glaring at one of the Royal Sharpshooters who was guarding the door.

"I'm sorry Lady Vallière, but you are not permitted in there. Colonel Konrad was very explicit in his orders, he said that only soldiers of the 33rd were permitted in there, absolutely no females, my lady. He said it was some sort of induction ritual for men only."

The pinkette glared and stamped her little foot.

"You idiot! I'm not interested in attending this party, I have to speak to Colonel Konrad, it's very urgent and concerns the well-being of the Princess!"

The guard seemed conflicted, but before he could respond one of the side doors was flung open and the blonde knight came running in, with her own personal cadre following behind her puffing and out of breathe. Without even asking Agnès pushed past the guard and kicked open the doors.

Crosby was about to make another toast to Saito and his mad skills as a panty-washing housemaid, when the doors to their hall were flung open and the blonde knight girlfriend of Alex burst in. Before anyone could speak she dropped to one knee and breathlessly spoke.

"Colonel Konrad, my apologies for interrupting your sacred ritual! But something terrible has happened!"

Konrad pushed away from the punch bowl and approached the knight. Alex had already disentangled himself from the keg and was by Agnès' side in an instant.

"What's wrong, babe? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

When he saw his CO approaching, Alex immediately stood up and off to the side at attention. Konrad nodded.

"It's alright, Agnès. Take a couple of deep breathes, then tell me what happened?"

The blonde knight closed her eyes and exhaled.

"I-I don't know how to put this softly, but the Princess…she has been kidnapped!"

_(AN: So if you're an FOZ fan you know what's coming next, more angst. Once again I apologize for the delay in getting this out there, the holidays and me getting sick put me way behind on the personal and work front. Next chapter should be up by the weekend.)_


	67. Shipwrecked!

"Gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please."

The soldiers of the 33rd paused in gearing up to look up. After the head of the Royal Sharpshooter Guard Agnès de Milan had dropped the bombshell that the princess had been kidnapped, everyone went into combat mode; the hazing party was long forgotten. Konrad had some royal guard members bring in a map of Helkeginia.

"Our rescue op, codenamed Operation Sleeping Beauty, will execute at exactly 1800 hours. The objective of Operation Sleeping Beauty is to recover a High Value Package from a Hostile Enemy Combatant. The HVP may or may not be an unwilling prisoner, since both she and the HEC have a prior history. Our intel seems to indicate that the HEC is currently en route to Lagdorian Lake. The HVP was last seen at 1600 hours this evening, so time is of the-"

"Wait a minute!"

Konrad pause and looked over to the source of the interruption. Both Louise and Agnès were standing off to the side, but it was the pinkette who interrupted.

"Konrad, what are saying?! You're referring to the Princess as some sort of valuable package, you make it sound as if she's some sort of parcel from the market!"

Lt. McPherson opened his mouth to say something, and judging by the face he was making it wasn't going to be pleasant, but Konrad held up a forestalling hand and turned back to Louise.

"My lady, it's important that you understand how soldiers operate in our world. In our world when we are executing an operation, it is imperative that all participants in the mission are professional and detached; this removes any emotional responses that might be a hindrance to the mission and allows the soldiers' training to kick in. This is especially true of a rescue op. As horrible as it sounds to classify the princess as a package, it allows my men to focus on the mission."

He turned back to his men.

"Any questions?"

Bowles had finished strapping on his PALS vest and slapped a fresh magazine into his UMP-45.

"What are we up against, sir? Just who is this HEC?"

Konrad looked over to Louise before responding.

"We have reason to believe that the HEC is none other than Prince Wales."

Bowles shook his head.

"Hold the phone, sir! I thought the prince bought it when you guys tried to evac him from Albion. We saw his body."

Konrad held up a letter.

"At last contact the HVP was seen holding this letter, which has the royal Albion seal from the House of Tudor. The handwriting has been authenticated as being Prince Wales' hand."

He lowered the letter.

"If it's true, then we have our work cut out for us. Prince Wales was a Triangle Wind mage, which makes him one of the most powerful mages in all of Albion. So plan accordingly."

Crosby raised his hand.

"Sir, what are the mission parameters?"

The colonel pointed a Lagdorian Lake on the map.

"As I was saying, our intel indicates that the HEC is en route to this lake, so our mission parameters are to intercept before they reach that objective. If possible, set up an ambush, lie and wait, then flash and grab."

"And if not, sir?"

Konrad smiled thinly.

"Then we engage the HEC and throw everything we have at him. Above all else we have to prevent all harm from coming to the HVP, as she is vital to the war effort. Any other questions?"

Saito raised his hand timidly.

"Um, Colonel, sir, is it a good idea for you to come along on this mission?"

Konrad smiled thinly at the Tokyo teen turned Specialist, and looked back over his men.

"The specialist brings up a good point, but I think all of you know the reason why it's imperative that I tag along on this mission. It's no secret that the princess, er, the HVP has a connection with your commanding officer. If it's true that she went willingly as opposed to being kidnapped then the hope is that someone she knows and trusts might be able to sway her."

Louise stepped forward.

"Konrad, I am coming along on this mission!"

Saito stepped forward to protest, but the colonel beat him to it.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that. Agnès has volunteered to tag along with her Sharpshooter Corps, she has wisely decided to try and keep this under wraps because if word got out that the HVP was kidnapped or worse defected, the consequences on the morale of the army would be devastating. But this is a military operation, no other civilians or nobles allowed."

Louise frowned, and pointed to Saito.

"But my familiar is going with you! If I can't go then he can't go either!"

Konrad shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Miss Vallière, but like it or not Saito is now part of the Damned 33rd. That ceremony this morning wasn't just for show, when he put on the uniform and accepted the patches he became member of the United States Army and has to follow orders, and right now his orders include going along on this mission."

When he saw the crestfallen look on the pinkette's face the colonel softened his tone.

"My lady, this is going to be a very dangerous mission; you of all people should know what a Triangle Wind Mage can do, and I can't guarantee your safety."

The pinkette's eyes shimmered with tears, and she burst out.

"B-but I must help! I was the last one to speak to the Princess, I'm sure I can get through to her! P-please let me come along!"

Saito stepped forward.

"Sir, my role in this mission is support, correct? If Louise stays in the `Bird with me she won't be in harm's way."

Konrad looked over at Saito.

"Do you want to take responsibility for her safety, specialist? If Bravo Zero gets hit and you have to ditch, are you willing to go down with the ship to secure her safety?"

The teen looked uncomfortable, but nodded.

"Yes, sir. I will look after Miss Vallière's safety."

Konrad looked over from Saito to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"What about you, sergeant? Care to throw your two cents in?"

Crosby shrugged.

"My own experience with the Walking IED is that she'll do whatever she puts her mind to whether we sanction it or not. And she does have the destructive magical ability, sir. All she would have to do is pretend that Prince Wales is one of the Radioman's speakers."

That brought a laugh from all the soldiers present, and Louise flushed as pink as her hair. When the laughter died down the colonel looked over to the pinkette.

"Very well, Miss Vallière, you are to accompany us on Bravo Zero, but you are to remain in the `Bird and follow Specialist Hiraga's instructions to the letter, is that understood?"

Louise nodded, and the colonel continued; looking over to where Lugo was standing.

"Sgt. Lugo, you and Lt. Gordon will stay behind and coordinate with the elements of the Royal Tristainian Army, in case this is a feint for a surprise attack by the Reconquista. The rest of you will divide up into two chalks assigned to each of our `Birds. McPherson will lead the 1st chalk consisting of Alex, Agnès and half her contingent of the Royal Sharpshooter Guard. They will be assigned to Bravo Six, piloted by Lt. Bowles. I will lead the other chalk with Crosby, Tebby and the other half of the Sharpshooter Guard, we will take the other `Bird piloted by Specialist Hiraga, callsign Bravo Zero Actual. Questions?"

When nobody responded Konrad spoke up again.

"Alright, everybody finish gearing up, all chalks RV on the landing pad in the Spring Courtyard, Operation Sleeping Beauty begins at 1800 hours. Dismissed!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Operation Sleeping Beauty, T+25 minutes into mission, approximately 5 km from Lagdorian Lake)<strong>

"Bravo Six, this is Bravo Zero Actual we are approaching the objective, do you have a visual on HEC or HVP?"

The convoy of `Birds were quickly approaching Lagdorian Lake, and with the noise they were making the element of surprise was limited, therefore it was imperative to locate their target quickly. Bowles' voice crackled through the static on the radio.

_"Negative, Bravo Zero Actual we do not have a visual, be advised Bravo Six-Two is going green and scanning for a visual."_

Crosby keyed his mic.

"Copy that, Bravo Six."

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked over to his pilot, and noticed that Saito was sweating bullets. He didn't blame him. The kid had been in his fair share of scraps since they both showed up in this weird world of magic and nobles and familiars, but this was the kid's first combat op. Nothing prepares a soldier for his first op, so being nervous was the norm. Actually Crosby would have been more worried if the kid was all bravado, because the braggarts were usually the first ones to choke up in a firefight. He switched to a secure channel and spoke.

"Hey kid! How're you holding up?"

Saito quickly looked over to him.

"It's okay, Saito, this is a secure channel. You okay?"

The Tokyo teen shook his head.

"Honesty, Crosby-san, I'm scared shitless. What if Wales is too powerful for us, or if I can't control my chopper?"

Crosby smiled.

"Don't worry kid, you're just experiencing a case of the nerves. It's normal for every soldier before his first op. I about pissed myself in my first combat patrol back in the Rockpile, so you're doing fine. Just remember the debriefing, keep your `Bird in the air and keep our Walking IED safe."

As if on queue a pink head of hair thrust itself into the cockpit area.

"Are we there yet, Sir Bodyguard Crosby?"

The old soldier chuckled and shook his head.

"Not quite yet, but keep an eye peeled and see if you can spot the princess, okay?"

Louise nodded, and sat back down on the bench with the other members of the Royal Sharpshooters Guard. Tebby was manning one of the miniguns and scanning the area with his NVG's. Suddenly, Alex's voice crackled on the radio.

_"__Bravo Zero Actual, this is Bravo Six-Two I have a visual on the HEC and the HVP, I say again, I have a visual on HEC and HVP. Be advised, both are two klicks to the south, by the shoreline."_

Crosby looked over to Konrad and nodded. The colonel spoke up.

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two, can you tell if we've been spotted by the HEC?"

There was a pause.

_"__Negative, Bravo Zero Actual, both HEC and HVP seem…occupied."_

Konrad frowned.

"Say again your last, Bravo Six-Two, did not copy."

Alex's voice spoke up again, hesitatingly.

_"__Ah, Bravo Zero Actual, HEC and HVP seem to be…kissing, and therefore occupied, sir."_

Crosby looked over and saw a pained look on the face of his CO, but it passed quickly.

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two. Bravo Six, set Bravo Six-One his team down to a secure spot on the South side of the lake. Bravo Six-One, your orders are to set up a parameter and provide reinforcements as needed."

It was McPherson's voice who spoke up.

_"__Solid copy, Bravo Zero Actual. What are Bravo Six-Two's orders, sir?"_

"Tell Bravo Six-Two to observe and report HEC and HVP's movements."

Alex's voice crackled through the static.

"What are my orders if I have the shot, sir?"

Konrad lowered his head, and it was an uncomfortable few seconds before he responded.

"Bravo Six-Two, if you have a clear shot, you are to take the shot. But do not endanger the HVP, understood?"

There was a pause on the other end.

_"__Solid copy, Bravo Zero Actual. Bravo Six-Two out."_

Konrad looked over to Crosby and nodded. Crosby in turn looked over to Saito and spoke into his radio.

"See that clearing in the woods just to the west of the lake? Bring us over there and set us down there?"

Saito nodded, and pulled the cyclic stick to the right. When the Blackhawk was directly over the clearing he eased off the collective and the `Bird slowly descended. As soon as the wheels touched the grass the doors opened and Tebby was the first out, helping out first his CO, then the other members of the Sharpshooter cadre. Crosby was the last to disembark, and stopped the pinkette from leaving.

"Remember what we said, my lady. You're to remain with your familiar, and to stay out of harm's way."

She started to protest but he stopped her.

"That's an order from your Bodyguard, my lady, remain with Saito."

He then spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Zero, after we've secured the parameter you're to dust off and remain in the air and await further instructions, understood?"

Saito's voice cut through the static.

"Roger that, Iceman. We're out of here."

As soon as the team of soldiers hit the treeline the Blackhawk's engines whined at a higher speed and the `Bird lifted off once more. Crosby looked over to Konrad, who nodded and spoke into the command channel.

"Bravo Six-One, this is Bravo Zero Actual, report in."

There was a slight pause before McPherson's voice came through.

_"__Bravo Zero Actual this is Bravo Six-One, we have set up a parameter and are awaiting further instructions."_

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two are you in position?"

Alex's voice spoke up.

_"__Roger that, Bravo Zero Actual, I am in position and I have a visual on the HEC and HVP, sir. They appear to be walking, and talking, sir. And holding hands."  
><em>

Konrad looked over to Crosby, and then replied.

"Any indication that they are aware of your poz or ours?"

_"Negative, sir. Or if they have they're sure not showing it."_

The colonel looked over to Tebby.

"Corporal, take the Sharpshooter Guards through the woods and cut off any escape route the prince might have in place."

Tebby nodded.

"Roger that, sir. What are you and the sarge going to do?"

Konrad looked over to Crosby.

"The sergeant and I are going to observe, and if the situation calls for it, a flash and grab. If that happens we're going to need backup ASAP. Understood?"

The corporal seems unsure, but nodded.

"Roger that, sir!"

* * *

><p>Konrad put the binoculars up to his eyes, and shook his head. He heard his subordinate whisper to him off to his left.<p>

"What's wrong, sir?"

Konrad said nothing, but handed the binoculars over to Crosby. The sergeant looked through the optics and the sight made him catch his breath.

There was Princess Henrietta being led by Prince Wales. Even after he knew the intel beforehand Konrad couldn't believe it. He saw the prince die by the treacherous Count Wardes' hand, and yet here he was walking and talking to the princess. There seemed to be something off with Wales, too. Something in the manner of his speech, the look in his eyes, something just didn't seem right. Crosby flinched as he swore he saw the prince glance towards their hiding spot in the thicket just beyond the shoreline.

Suddenly the prince spoke up.

"You can come out of your hiding place now, Colonel Konrad. We've been expecting you, in fact."

Crosby looked over to Konrad, who motioned for him to stay hidden. He whispered to the sergeant.

"Our best chance is for me to distract them, you coordinate with Bravo Six-Two and when he has the shot, have him take it."

Crosby nodded, and watched as Konrad emerged from their hiding place and approached the prince. Wales, or whatever he was, raised his wand threateningly.

"Not another step, Konrad."

The colonel spoke up.

"You know we're not going to let you kidnap the princess and get away, Wales, or whatever you are."

The prince seemed genuinely shocked.

"Me, kidnap the princess? But you don't understand, Konrad. The princess wasn't kidnapped; she came of her own free will."

As if on cue the princess spoke up.

"Please, Colonel Konrad, let us pass. My beloved has come in my hour of need, and will take me away from all this war and bloodshed."

Konrad stepped forward.

"But your majesty, we need you for the war effort!"

That didn't seem to faze her, she shook her head and turned away from Konrad.

"You will assume control of the army, and of my kingdom. You are experienced in the ways of war, and are a leader. I am but a young, inexperienced girl. I never wanted this."

"Please, your majesty," Konrad pressed on, "Henrietta, your subjects need you!"

That seemed to strike a chord with her, and she spun around and glared at the colonel, her large blue eyes shimmering with tears.

"Oh, now it's 'Henrietta?' After all this time when I called you by your first name, all those evenings I spent trying to get through to you, trying to get you to acknowledge my affections, only for you to respond with your usual stuck-up formal 'Yes, your Majesty', only now after I am reunited with my one true love, do you call me by my first name?! HOW DARE YOU!"

Crosby watched from cover as his co flinched under the verbal assault of the princess, but was shocked when the colonel said nothing but hung his head.

"Well?! What have you to say to that, Colonel John Konrad? I have not given you leave to remain silent!"

Finally he spoke.

"Your Hi-Princess Henrietta, you are a beautiful young woman. Any man would give anything, perform any task, or endure any hardship for your affections. But it's not that simple."

The princess appeared not to be swayed by his words.

"It **is** that simple! John Konrad, do you or do you not love me?"

When Konrad remained silent, the princess huffed.

"Hmph! Just as I thought. Very well, since you will not answer my charge, I will be leaving with Prince Wales."

Before Konrad could respond, suddenly there was a roar of turbine engines and the sound of blades cutting through the air. There was Saito's Blackhawk, and suddenly Crosby saw a flash of something pink flying through the air. It landed lightly next to Konrad, to both the colonel's and the princess's shock. Zombie Wales smirked.

"It would appear we have more company."

He raised his wand and a large blast of wind energy surged towards the Blackhawk. The Bird veered sharply to the left, and barely avoided it. Crosby shouted into his radio.

"Bravo Zero! What the fuck are you doing? Get that `Bird out of range, now!"

He didn't hear a response from Saito, but the `Bird banked sharply and sped off to the south side of the lake. He glanced back over to where Konrad and the princess were, and saw that Louise was there as well. He vaguely could hear the pinkette speaking frantically to the Princess.

"Please, Herietta listen to me! Please come back to us! This isn't the real Wales, he is just a revenant!"

The Princess frowned at her childhood friend, as the tears freely flowed from her blue eyes.

"Stop hurling false accusations, Lousie! This is the real Wales! The Wales before his death, don't you think I wouldn't know my beloved on sight?"

The pinkette pleaded with the princess.

"Please, Henrietta, please come to your senses!"

The princess appeared conflicted, but then her eyes hardened and she shook her head emphatically.

"No! It can't be! He told me he would love me, Henrietta, for all eternity!"

"Princess! Don't you see?! He is clouding your judgment!"

That struck a nerve, and the princess frowned at Louise.

"Louise! Have you ever truly loved a person? No? Then let me tell you, Louise, what true love is. True love is about giving up everything just to be with him. So please, I beg of you, stop obstructing us!"

Henrietta sighed and lowered her head.

"This is the queen's order, Louise Françoise ! It's my last order for you..."

Louise seemed shocked.

"What?!"

"I will tell you what I told Colonel Konrad. Let me pass, and leave with my beloved. If you loved me as a friend, you will obey this last order."

Louise was still in shock, and Zombie Wales smirked.

"Now that we have that out of the way, will you get out of our way, lest something…unpleasant happen to you?"

Crosby saw the pinkette draw her wand and point it at the prince.

"Forgive me, dear Henrietta, but if you will not see reason, I will show you."

She let off a destructive spell that shot straight for the prince. Zombie Wales deftly deflected the blast, and he smirked at Louise.

"No magic can harm me, the ring will see to that!"

The princess cried out in horror and drew her scepter.

"Stay back! Y-you will never lay a finger on Wales..."

The princess's voice wavered, but her scepter did not.

"P-please stop obstructing us..."

Zombie Wales turned to Henrietta.

"My love, my everlasting beloved, do you love me?"

The princess looked to him with shimmering eyes.

"Of course! With all my heart!"

The prince smiled, but it was an evil smile, and turned where Konrad and Louise were standing.

"Then prove your love to me, my dearest, and help me destroy those who seek to destroy our love!"

To Louise's horror, the princess nodded, and raised her scepter. An aura of power coalesced around the prince and the princess, and Zombie Wales' voice could be heard over the roar of the whirlwind around them.

"Behold, the combined power of Pentagram Wind spell of Destruction!"

Louise held up her wand, but even her own destructive incantation spell was not enough to stop it. The Wind Spell connected with Louise's wand, and the explosion sent the colonel and the pinkette flying back. Crosby almost left cover, but suddenly remembered. He mentally cursed himself for being so distracted by the stupid love drama, and keyed his radio to the command channel.

"Bravo Six-Two, Bravo Six-Two, this is Iceman, do you still have eyes on Tango?"

Alex's voice crackled through the radio.

_"__Iceman this is Bravo Six-Two I have eyes on Tango and have the shot, repeat I have the shot. Do I take the shot?"  
><em>

Crosby looked over to his CO and Louise, who was still struggling under the combined magic of Zombie Wales and Henrietta.

"Bravo Six-Two, confirm that the HVP is not in the line of fire."

There was no hesitation from Alex.

_"__Confirmed, Iceman; HVP is not in the line of fire and I have a clear shot, do I take the shot?"_

He closed his eyes, and sighed. If they didn't take the shot, Konrad and Louise could die, and Henrietta would either be under the Reconquista's sway or dead.

"Affirmative Bravo Six-Two, take the shot. I say again, take the shot and take him down."

There was a loud crack, and suddenly the blast of magic stopped buffeting Konrad and Louise. Henrietta looked over and screamed in horror. Wales looked down at his chest in shock, then a second shot echoed across the lake and half the prince's head disintegrated. Crosby carefully left cover and advanced towards to where Konrad and Louise were lying on the ground. He checked the colonel first, and saw Konrad's eyes flick open and focus on him.

"T-the princess?"

Crosby smiled.

"She's safe, sir."

Konrad tried to sit up, and the sergeant put a hand on his CO's chest.

"Easy does it, sir. You might have broken something in that last blast."

The colonel nodded.

"Call it in sergeant. You're in command here. If you don't need anything else I'll be passing out now, wake me up when we're back in Tristainia."

Crosby smiled at his CO's humor, but then he heard a heart-rending sob and looked up. The princess was crying over Prince Wales, who miraculously, despite a chest wound and headshot somehow the prince was still barely breathing. Crosby couldn't tell, but it looked like the malevolent aura that surrounded the Prince dissipated. Then he saw something that shocked him, the massive head wound on Prince Wales was getting smaller. The Zulu Squad sergeant also noticed a large red spot spreading under him.

"What th-"

"It's the magic of the Water Spirit's ring."

He looked down and saw Louise watching the scene unfold with eyes tearing up.

"The ring's power was what revived Prince Wales, and now the spell is broken, it is undone."

Crosby looked back.

"That explains why his headshot is healing, and why the stab wound that Count Wardes inflicted on him reappeared."

Their conversation was interrupted by the prince's voice, faint but still loud enough to be heard.

"Henrietta…"

Henrietta looked up from her crying.

"Wales! Don't speak! Everything will be alright…"

Prince Wales reached up with a shaking hand and shushed the princess.

"Henrietta, my darling, before I go, I want you to forgive me-"

His hesitating speech was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, and he hacked up flecks of blood.

"-I-I want you to swear to me an oath, my love."

Henrietta paused in her crying just long enough to whimper out a question.

"An oath? What oath shall I make?"

For a long while there was no sound other than the sobs of the princess, then the prince took one of her small hands his own and looked her in the eye.

"Y-you must forget all about me."

The princess dropped his hand and her eyes widened in shock, but the prince continued, although his voice was getting softer.

"Swear to me that you will forget all about me, that you will fall in love with another."

Henrietta shook her head furiously, but the prince smiled faintly.

"Please, my dear, make my death have some meaning, please, I wish to hear those words. Please, Henrietta, make that oath here, by Lagdorian Lake, with the Water Spirit as a witness…please."

"I-I can't make an oath like that! Please, you mustn't ask me that!"

"Please…do it Henrietta…"

The Prince was fading fast, and finally the princess whispered something to Wales, something that made him smile in spite of the excruciating pain he was in. Then the prince shuddered, and stopped breathing. Wales was dead, again.

The pinkette Louise rushed from Crosby's side to comfort the princess. In spite of all what the possessed prince put them through, it was hard to think of him as an enemy combatant. Maybe his will wasn't his own, and he was a prisoner in his own body. Whatever the case, it was small comfort to Henrietta. Appropriately enough, a large drop of water plopped on Crosby's helmet, followed by another, and before long the only sound to be heard was the soft sound of weeping and water droplets plinking on the lake's surface. Crosby sighed, and pushed the melancholic thoughts aside. He spoke into his radio.

"All units; HEC threat is neutralized, I say again, threat is neutralized and High Value Package is secure. Bravo Six, RV and extract Bravo Six-One and his team, Bravo Zero home in on my IFF beacon and prepare for an extraction, be advised we have wounded on the deck."

He watched the princess cry her eyes out over the dead body of her beloved. He spoke up, more to himself than anyone, although it ended up being heard on the command channel.

"Let's get the fuck out of here; I've had a bellyful of this place."

_(AN: Hopefully I did this chapter justice. I was getting pretty lazy in that in the FOZ story Zombie Wales is impervious to damage and only after the spell is broken can he be hurt, so here I did the usual handwave by implying that magic can't hurt him but a good ol' fashioned high-caliber bullet can. It was quite a balancing act to integrate a military-style rescue op into the _Familiar of Zero_ verse and make it seem believable. And I know that in the manga and the anime Saito's ride has to make a crash landing, but it just didn't seem that realistic, so I skipped that. Next chapter we're shifting gears with our favorite hammy lizard making another appearance.)_


	68. Fury of the Dragon

"Oliver, do you have a moment?"

The leader of the Reconquista and of Albion was standing on an observation deck of Londinium's secret shipyard, staring at a large skeleton of iron being constructed.

"What is it, Sir Percival? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Why is it that I needs to make an appointment to visit an old friend? And do I need a reason?"

Sir Percival's manner was flippant, but his eyes betrayed concern. Cromwell's hard eyes continued to stare at the monstrous construct, but finally he turned to face his friend. His eyes softened.

"I-I'm sorry Percival, this war effort has me preoccupied, with all the delays we've run into constructing this ironclad warship I've been very busy. What troubles you, old friend?"

The Albion noble seemed hesitant.

"Oliver, how long have we been friends?"

Cromwell smiled.

"Since we both cheated on our 'A' levels to get passing grades and acquire our scholar degrees from Cambroxford…"

A wistful looks passed over the Reconquista leader's face.

"Has it really been over twenty years, Percy?"

Sir Percival smiled.

"Indeed it has, and who was it who called in favors with his father to ensure his friend was released from prison after inciting a riot against the 'corrupt monarchy'?"

Cromwell laughed.

"It was you. Sir Percival, you were always the level-headed one to counter my hotheaded revolutionary spirit."

The Albion noble took a step forward.

"As your old friend, Oliver, I must ask you…nay, I beg of you to reconsider this bargain we've struck with It."

Cromwell's eyes hardened, then he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Percy, it's not that simple. Were it that simple I would have left that creature a long time ago, but we need Lord Alduin. Our efforts to unite all the countries of Helkeginia depend on us winning this war with Tristain, those who doubted our efforts will flock to our cause either out of loyalty or fear that they will be next. If we fail, then all our efforts will be for naught."

Sir Percival nodded.

"Then promise me, swear to me from one friend to another, that you will not go through with your promise to release this foul creature on our world."

Cromwell paused, and looked back over to the ironclad ship being constructed.

"Sir Percival, my friend, I swear to you, if we win this victory against Tristain, I will personally destroy that cursed manor and bury that fire crystal under a ton of rocks and rubble."

He turned back to face his friend, his eyes full of conviction.

"That I promise you, my friend."

The Albion noble was about to respond when the door opened and two sets of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Two cloaked female figures appeared out of the darkness. Sheffield was the first to remove her hood and speak.

"Lord Cromwell, I bring bad news, bad news that will not wait."

Cromwell's eyes hardened.

"Well, Sheffield? Don't keep me in suspense."

The female mage gestured to the second figure, who removed her hood. Both Cromwell and his friend noticed that she did it with only one bandaged hand. Fouquet bowed low.

"My Lord, I have failed in my mission to retrieve the Countess de Vallière's Heavy Wind ring."

The leader of Albion looked to Sir Percival in shock.

"What? How is this possible? I thought you told me it would be a simple burglary."

Fouquet kept her head lowered.

"It was my bad luck that the Countess' youngest brat was at the estate at the time, and more importantly her bodyguard was there as well."

She held out her right arm, completely concealed in her cloak, and pulled back the sleeve to reveal a bandaged stump.

"And he took my hand away."

She turned and glared at Sir Percival.

"You should have killed him when you had the chance, Sir Percival."

The Albion noble smiled nastily.

"I thought you told me that he would be no match for your Earth golems, if he were stripped of his weapons and armor."

Fouquet lunged at Sir Percival.

"How dare you patronize me, you insolent sycophantic peacock!"

Her attack was restrained by Sheffield, and Cromwell stood in her way as an added measure.

"Peace, Fouquet. We all knew it was a long shot to try and steal that ring, not to mention taking one of the countess' daughters as a hostage."

He looked over to Sheffield.

"The important thing that you're not telling me is what news do you bring from our beloved Prince Wales?"

Sheffield lowered her violet eyes. Cromwell's eyes widened.

"No. It isn't possible!"

She looked up.

"It is. I have received word that Prince Wales was killed in his attempt to kidnap the princess."

The Reconquista leader seethed, and it was Sir Percival's turn to restrain his friend.

"Do you have any idea what Lord Alduin will do when It finds out we have failed in our mission?! He will probably burn us all for our incompetence!"

Fouquet smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one.

"No, Lord Cromwell, He won't. The Duke of Gloucester was responsible for the Prince's mission, and if you remember he was also the one who botched the capture of the Jester. Ensure that he will be at the next secret conclave, and let him take the fall."

That seemed to appease Cromwell, and he smiled again.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

That smile disturbed Sir Percival, and he excused himself from the group. When he turned back to look at his friend, the Albion noble saw his old friend had come back to staring at the ironclad warship being constructed.

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, in the Dark Realm)<strong>

Time does not exist in this realm, so the red dragon was unaware how long it sat prostrated with its leathery wings spread on the ground. Its Master was hidden, and only two eyes, burning like white-hot coals, pierced the Darkness. Then, an eternity later, or perhaps only five minutes past, a sinister, silky hissing voice echoed in the Darkness.

** "****Arissssse, my Red Right Hand."**

The red dragon called Nahkriin raised its massive horned head.

"What is thy bidding, my Master?"

**"****What newssss do you bring about the pathetic humanssss from the little floating island?"**

Nahkriin spoke in a rasping voice.

"The one called Fouquet failed to retrieve the Ring, Master."

There was a deep rumble like mountains tumbling and tectonic plates shifting, that was the sound of Lord Alduin chuckling.

**"****Goooood, her failure will feed her thirsssst for vengeanssss. She hasssss potential, that one. What other news have you, Nahkriin?"**

The red dragon paused, it did not feel fear, or any other feelings the way humans did, but a small sliver of what it used to be sent a ripple through its scaled hide.

"Th-the revenant Prince Wales, he has failed in his mission to kill the princess, Master. And he is now beyond your Reach."

There was a cacophonous roar, a shout so powerful it shook the very fabric of the Dark Realm, and the wails of pain from the damned increased.

**"****WHAT? How isss thissss possible? Who was resssssponsible for his quesssst to kill that little brat?"**

Nahkriin's scales rippled again, whether it was because of the buffeting shout of its Master or out of small remnant of fear left over from its previous life, and replied.

"It was the human who was failed to capture the Outworlder on their island."

The glowing eyes narrowed.

**"****And how did thisssss one fail?"**

The red dragon continued.

"H-he used the same tactic as before, he felt that subterfuge would-"

**"****He is as clumsy as he is sssssstupid. It would appear that I require too much from these little wormssssss."**

Nahkriin craned its scaly neck to look up towards the burning eyes.

"Will you grant me the honor of punishing these little humans, my Lord?"

The rumbling chuckle continued.

**"****No, my loyal sssservant, you must consssserve your sssssstrength if you are to wreck your vengeance on thosssssse who tormented you."**

At the mere mention of it, Nakhriin roared his own shout of anger.

"Yesssss, they will all die by my fire and claw!"

Alduin bared its teeth, which was its equivalent of smiling.

**"****Yesssss, you ssssertainly will."**

The burning eyes turned away.

**"****Now go, my Red Right Hand, you are dismissssssed." **

With another roar and a shout, the red dragon flew off. That bit of business done, the glowing eyes turned toward a small red firecrystal. Lord Alduin performed another ritualistic shout, and an image conjured up before its eyes. It could see several of the pathetic humans. Even with their masks on Alduin could see which human was which. At the front was the little man who dreamed of becoming a world leader, such lack of imagination. The thief's heartfire burned ever brighter, and the Evil One chuckled to itself at her thirst for vengeance. Then it saw its quarry and spoke.

**"****Which one of your was ressssponsible for ssssssquandering my gift? Who allowed the Prince Wales to fail?"**

Without allowing the leader to speak, Alduin performed the _thu'um_ of Unquenching Fire, and immediately the incompetent noble was engulfed in fire.

**"****You have failed me for the last time, Duke Gloucester, now you shall sssssssuffer the conssssequences of my wrath."**

It amused the Evil One to watch the human burn, and scream in unimaginable torment, and it could smell raw, naked fear from every soul in that cavern. Except one. There was another emotion radiating from the thief. Satisfaction, and a hunger for power. It would keep a close eye on this one. When the last scream echoed through the cavern and the grisly charred corpse collapsed to the floor, Alduin addressed the leader.

**"****You have been ssssssuitably warned, Cromwell. I do not accept failuresssss; I have given you many boonssss to aid you in your petty war, but remember your bargain. I require one last sssssacrifice, a human from that world of violensssssse."**

It directed its attention to the thief.

**"****You had the opportunity to bring one of them to me, but your hubrissss conquered your judgment. Your Anger will sssssuit you well, but do not allow its ssssiren call cloud your purpose."**

The human called Cromwell stepped forward.

"M-My Lord Alduin, these soldiers, they have superior weapons, we cannot defeat them by magic alone…"

Alduin interrupted him with a snarl that buffeted the humans like a whirlwind.

**"****Which is why I gave you those plansss for the weapon of dessssstruction. You have been warned, I want one of those sssspecial humanssss for my ascension, not excussssessssss."**

Not bothering to hear the simperings of the humans, Alduin turned away from the firecrystal, spread its massive wings and set off to find the most recent addition to its collection of damned souls.

_(AN: Okay, so maybe that was a little over the top, but its Alduin we're talking about here, so Large Ham and Large Dragon kind of go hand in claw, so to speak. I bet old Cromwell is really starting to feel buyer's remorse, now. Next chapter will take us back to the palace, where the 33__rd__ and co will deal with the aftershocks of Operation Sleeping Beauty. Until then!)_


	69. Boot

_(AN: Wow, I'm on another roll! So we get some more angst in this chapter as we deal with the after-effects of the rescue op…but then again this is called a Hurt/Comfort fic for a reason. Hopefully this emotional dynamic is right, it was a real balancing act, especially towards then end.)_

Saito thought he was dreaming, but he couldn't be; it was so real. There he was, riding shotgun in a U.S. Army HUMVEE as the driver, an MP, navigated the complex streets of Tokyo. He smiled as he looked over his shoulder and saw two familiar faces with him. Sgt. Robert Crosby, or Crosby-san, as he had come to know the Zulu Squad sergeant, was back in regular Army ACU's, and sitting beside him was his CO, Colonel John Konrad, in his dress uniform.

When they arrived back on Earth there had been a brief inquest in which the highers-up had indicated that no charges or judicial punishments would be meted out to either Konrad or his subordinates. Apparently the surviving member of Delta Squad, Captain Walker, was picked up in Dubai and had some very embarrassing things to say about the CIA and the Special Operations division of the NSA. It seemed as if everyone just wanted to sweep what happened in Dubai under the rug. After the debriefing one of the first things Saito wanted to do when they arrived was stopping at a Japanese fast food restaurant for some comfort food. He chuckled over the recollection of Crosby's reaction to the 'hush puppies' he had been eating with such gusto were in fact takoyaki, or octopus balls.

Saito's thoughts were interrupted when the HUMVEE came to a stop and Saito looked up. It was his house. Quickly he opened the door and jumped out, crossing in front of the military truck as the MP opened the rear door to let the other two soldiers out, saluting as he did. Konrad returned the salute.

"As you were, Corporal. Carry on, and if we need you we'll give a holler."

The MP nodded.

"Roger that, sir."

The soldier opened the driver's door and paused, calling back to Konrad.

"Sir? Colonel, it's...it's good to have you back, sir. Stuff might get a bit heavy when the brass starts to sort things out, but know that all of us are behind you, 110 percent, sir!"

Konrad smiled.

"Thank, Jax. I appreciate it."

The MP smiled and then quickly entered the HUMVEE. As the truck's diesel engine roared to life, the colonel and the sergeant followed Saito up the steps to his house. The Tokyo teen had remembered spending his first night back on Earth was so much different. They had put him up in a temporary barracks with Crosby and the other soldiers, the military cot was so different from the lavish Tristianian feather beds that his girlfriend/master Louise Vallière slept on. The thought of her had given him some momentary pangs of regret. Yes, he was back home, but in leaving Helkeginia he had left behind some real friends. As he approached the front door of his parent's house Saito briefly wondered how he and the 33rd left that bizarre world of familiars and magic, and if the Reconquista had been defeated.

Just before he pushed the doorbell, he heard a loud, squeaky female voice.

"Wait! I must speak to my familiar!"

He turned around to see the pinkette standing at the gate entrance, and as he wondered how Louise arrived on Earth he woke up.

Saito rubbed his eyes, and again his ears were assaulted by the sound of the pinkette whining.

"I don't understand, why can't I speak to him!?"

The Tokyo teen looked up, and saw that Louise was in fact at the entrance the the 33rd's barracks, and the gatekeeper was Alex.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but all the soldiers who participated in the rescue op have an AAR debriefing."

He saw the crestfallen look on the pinkette's face.

"Look, he should be out and done in an hour, so just come back a bit later, okay?"

That seemed to pacify the pinkette, and she nodded once, and turned away.

"Trouble, private?"

Alex turned to see Crosby standing there with two cups of coffee.

"Negative sarge, just the Walking IED suffering from separation anxiety from her boyfriend."

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled.

"Better not let her hear you say that, otherwise she's hit you with that riding crop. Trust me, if you're not properly armored it hurts like a motherfucker."

He handed a coffee to Alex.

"When's the AAR debriefing?"

"At 0900, the colonel should be here any moment."

As if on cue he heard someone clear his throat. Konrad was standing at the front of the barracks, by the map of Helkeginia. He held up a coffee cup.

"Gentlemen, I trust everyone's gotten chow and caffeine?"

There was a murmured affirmative that coursed through the crowd of soldiers. Konrad nodded.

"Very well, then if I may have your attention, the AAR debriefing for Operation Sleeping Beauty will come to order."

He turned over to the map.

"At 1800 hours last night the rescue op codenamed Operation Sleeping Beauty went underway. At approximately T+26 mikes into the operation we confirmed contact with the HEC and HVP. I am happy to confirm that the HVP has been retrieved successfully with no casualties."

He looked over to Crosby and Alex, who were sitting next to Saito.

"I would like to single out Sergeant Crosby for his efforts in coordinating with Bravo Six in neutralizing the HEC. And special extra credit to Private Walker for taking the killing shot."

He saluted the private with his coffee cup.

"Helluva shot private, I think a Bravo Zulu is in order."

All the other soldiers broke out into impromptu applause and hooting. Alex just grinned deprecatingly.

Konrad cleared his throat again to bring the debriefing back to order. Saito felt a knot in his stomach, as he remembered he disobeyed a direct order by letting Louise jump down to confront the princess. Silently he hoped the colonel wouldn't call him out in front of all the soldiers.

"All in all, I'm very satisfied by the way you men dispatched yourself in the mission. It's been a while since the 33rd has had a mission go so smoothly and by the numbers."

He looked over to Lt. McPherson.

"Lieutenant, do you have anything else to add?"

When the L.T. shook his head Konrad turned back to the assembled soldiers.

"Very well, that is all. I should point out that the princess's own personal chefs have volunteered to put on a nice spread in honor of the brave soldiers who rescued the princess. The head chef told me that they will be holding said banquet at the Rose Garden at noon-thirty, so all you are cordially invited. Garrison standards apply, but formal attire is not required under the circs, so see you there. Dismissed."

As the soldiers started to file out, Saito tried to slip away. Even if he had to deal with Louise, he just wanted to get out. Then he heard Konrad's voice.

"Specialist Hiraga, a word, please?"

Saito stopped in his tracks. He saw Crosby walk past him and give the teen a reassuring smile. The Tokyo teen slowly turned around and saw the colonel standing there. He straightened up his uniform and marched up to face his CO and saluted crisply.

"Sir! Specialist Hiraga reporting, sir!"

Konrad smiled as he returned the salute.

"At ease, specialist."

For an uncomfortable few minutes Saito waited, and while those minutes crawled by Konrad watched as the last of the members of the 33rd filed out of the palace wing-turned barracks. When the last soldier left, Konrad turned to face Saito.

"Specialist, I assume you know why I called you up here."

The teen looked nervous and started to sweat.

"I-I didn't mean to have Louise leave, she just wanted me to get close-"

Konrad pointed to the insignia on his shoulder.

"-Close enough for her to jump down, specialist, you do realize that this old 'bird on my shoulder does not automatically mean I am mentally deficient?"

Saito looked dumbfounded.

"Sir?"

Konrad smiled.

"Look, Saito, I'm not going to bite your head off. But at the same time I don't want someone feeding their CO a line of bullshit instead of owning up."

Saito lowered his head and blushed.

"I'm sorry for disobeying orders, sir. I'll take whatever punishment you deem fit."

He looked back up at Konrad.

"I've been a slave for all intents and purposes to Louise, after being beaten by a riding crop and forced to sleep on the floor nothing's going to hurt."

Konrad smiled.

"I think we can forgo the Article 32 hearing and the flogging. I think one hour of KP duty assisting the palace cooks should get the message across. Just remember that being in the military is more than just putting on a uniform and playing soldier. It's about understanding the chain of command, and following orders."

The colonel grinned wolfishly.

"And if I catch you disobeying orders again I'll have that pink-haired walking IED administer punishment."

Saito and the colonel shared a laugh, and the teen saluted.

"Thank you, sir."

Konrad returned the salute.

"Dismissed."

The teen left leaving Konrad by himself in the barracks, sipping his coffee and looking over the AAR reports submitted by his subordinates. His musings were interrupted by the door opening, and Agnès de Milan walked in.

"I beg your pardon, Colonel Konrad, but have you seen Private Alex Walker?"

Konrad smiled and shook his head.

"Last I saw he and some of the other soldiers were headed to the Landing Pad, you might be able to catch him if you hurry."

She blushed and smiled, but didn't leave. After the colonel watched the blonde knight fidget with her cloak he spoke up.

"Something else on your mind, ma'am?"

Agnès lowered her head.

"Colonel Konrad, Princess Henrietta…She-she hasn't come out of her chambers since…well since we came back from the mission. She only briefly spoke to Mistress Vallière, and myself and has shut everybody else out."

She looked up suddenly, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"Please, Colonel! Could you go speak to the princess?!"

Konrad shook his head.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but something tells me that I'm the last one her Highness wants to see."

Agnès shook her head emphatically.

"No! No, you don't understand! This morning she spoke to me, and mentioned you…and I asked if I should go fetch you, and she wavered but said nothing. I know she wants to see you, Colonel! Please, just come with me."

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later, outside the Royal Chambers)<strong>

Konrad stood outside the door, in front of which two Royal Sharpshooters stood vigil. Agnès knocked on the door.

"Princess Henrietta! It's your bodyguard, Agnès de Milan! I have a visitor!"

He could hear the princess's muffled voice through the door.

"Go away, I am not receiving any visitors today!"

"But, your Highness," Agnès persisted. "It is Colonel Konrad who is here to speak to you!"

There was a long pause, and just as Konrad was about to turn and leave, the door opened. There stood Princess Henrietta, smiling at him as if nothing had transpired in the last 24 hours.

"Good-morning John, thank you so much for stopping by to visit."

She started to lead the colonel into her quarters and looked over to Agnès.

"You may leave us."

The bodyguard-chevalier hesitated, but then saluted her monarch. Henrietta nodded and spoke to her bodyguards.

"I am not to be disturbed by anyone, save my childhood friend Lady Louise de la Vallière, is that understood?"

The two guards nodded stiffly, and the princess shut the door. As soon as the door shut, it seemed as if the princess sagged, and let out a tired sigh. She walked back over to the sitting area of her chamber. Konrad made his way over to her and spoke up.

"Henrietta, I-I'm sorry for what happened."

The princess, upon hearing his words, spun around and grabbed the colonel, embracing his midsection tightly, crying into his dress uniform shirt.

"John, I *snif* don't know where to start, I-I said so many horrible things to you last night!"

Konrad tried to placate the princess.

"It's alright, Henrietta."

She looked up, her wide blue eyes brimming with tears.

"No!"

She beat her tiny fist against his tear-soaked shirt.

"No, it's not alright! You've helped my country in its time of need, you've been nothing but kind to me, but you refuse to be human! It's not alright for me to be so vile to you and for you to not feel it! Stop being so stoic!"

She broke down again and cried some more. Konrad, out of his depth, continued just to hold her.

"Your H-Henrietta, I'm sorry."

The princess looked up again.

"For what?"

Konrad looked down at her.

"For hiding behind my uniform and office. For not being human."

The old colonel stroked the princess's cheek, taking her chin in his hand.

"I wasn't lying when I said that you were beautiful young woman, and any man would be endure anything to win your affections."

He let go, and his hand fell to his side. Henrietta wiped away her eyes and looked up at him.

"John, back at the lake, when…when I said those horrible things, you said it wasn't that simple. What did you mean?"

Konrad didn't respond but reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. In it he pulled out a piece of parchment that had been folded up many times. He unfolded it and offered it to Henrietta, who took it, and her breathe caught in her throat. On the parchment was a charcoal etching of a beautiful woman with flowing hair wearing a choker necklace. On the other side of the drawing there was words, arranged like a poem. The words looked like Albionian, but Henrietta was struggling to read them. She looked back up.

"John, this poem, what does it say?"  
>Konrad took the parchment from her and read it out loud.<p>

_"__I've been forgetting when I am.  
>You should know,<br>You're always there._

_I keep repeating,_  
><em>The next time, time next time.<em>  
><em>You won't.<em>

_I hate this lie the most._  
><em>Mostly I just hate<em>  
><em>The want."<em>

The princess stood as if spellbound as the colonel read it, his voice almost breaking at certain points. Then it all made sense, and she put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh! That poem, it's dedicated to your-I mean, you left a wife back in your world?"

Konrad smiled thinly.

"The drawing is of Elizabeth, who was indeed my wife, and I wrote that poem for her."

When Henrietta didn't respond he continued.

"She was a beautiful woman, and a very patient and loving wife."

He shook his head.

"I always told her that she should have married a banker, or a lawyer, even a used car salesman. Anyone but a soldier. It was said that soldier's wives suffer a unique pain of loss every time their husbands deploy. Lizzie stuck with me through the Cold War, Grenada, the First Gulf War and even Afghanistan.  
>Konrad closed his eyes.<p>

"In hindsight I should have known something was wrong, when I rotated back after that incident in Kabul. She had this article about the toll that extended deployments and TDY's had on the soldier's significant others, and how there was a spike in the occurrences of divorce among them.

"Then, when it was clear that the Emir and his cronies in Dubai were abandoning the people and the brass at the Pentagon weren't going to lift a finger to help, I called her up on Skype. I called up Lizzie and told her one more time, one last time I had to play the hero and help the oppressed.

"It was funny, because I could see, even with the lousy connection that she was smiling. She had that same sad smile that she always wore when I gave her the bad news that my deployment was running overtime, or that I had re-upped. Then she told me that she hoped I would succeed and be the hero once more, and then told me she was emailing something very important to me.

"Half an hour later, I received an email with divorce papers, along with a very apologetic letter from the family lawyer. I didn't blame her, I signed the paperwork and sent it back over, and I remember the last thing I heard from her, before the storms got really bad, was a voicemail. She said she just couldn't live with the idea that I might not come back this time, and wanted to start over, and that she would always love her husband."

Konrad opened his eyes to see Henrietta looking at him with shimmering blue eyes. The princess took on of his hands in her much smaller one.

"I can't imagine the pain you're going through right now, having lost a lover twice to death. I do know that when you're hurting you reach out to others."

He smiled thinly.

"In my world they call it 'rebounding'. But right now I don't think either of us are in the right mindset to go down that path."

"Please, John, I know you're hurting, like I am. Help me, and I will help you. But, promise me, when the time is right, please consider what I'm offering you."

Konrad squeezed her hand.

"I promise, your Highness."

And for a long time the two of them just stood there, taking comfort in each other's company.

_(AN: Ugh. I think I need to read the sillier chapters of this fic to get all this angst out of my system. This chapter was probably one of the most emotionally draining chapter to write since I started this fic. It was another balancing act to write, because let's face it, on the surface it's a young lady trying to give her heart to a guy that's old enough to be her father. And Daddy issues aside, it's hard to make it believable, and give it a nice emotional punch without being contrived or creepy. I hope I was able to strike that balance. And it was difficult writing Konrad's dialogue, because I'm breaking new ground and having still visualize him saying it in Bruce Boxleitner's voice. _

_On a lighter note, there's been some folks who were curious about the Weaver's backstory and how she came to be, so I think in one of the next chapter's I'm going to tackle that. And while there will still be a bit of angst, it will be balanced with more humor. I should have the next chapter up by the weekend. Until then!)_


	70. Spotter

"Jeezus Bowles, get your fucking head out of the gutter!'

Lt. Bowles grinned at the Heavy Trooper Gordon, currently wearing his garrison ACU's.

"I'll telling ya, Jimmy, you need to get on that baby-making detail with your new bride. She's been eye-fucking you all day with that eye shimmer thingie the sarge keeps telling us about. I'm sure the Army Officer's Handbook has a chapter on how to mount your bride in a safe, orderly and proficient manner."

Gordon shook his head, and looked over to where Tiffania was standing. She had followed Gordon to the royal banquet that the palace staff had put on for the soldiers in thanksgiving for rescuing their monarch, and now she was chatting up Louise and the chevalier Agnès de Milan. And once again the Lt. Bowles, the Little Bird pilot callsign Bravo Six, was razzing his fellow officer about the apparently lack of progress in consummating the marital act.

"Dude, it's not that simple, she's like this delicate little flower that I'm always afraid of trampling. And she's always looking at me as if I'm some sort of savior deity made human, it's weird."

Bowles took a large bite from a turkey leg and accepted a goblet of iced wine from a servant.

"Sounds to me as if all you have to do is deflower this flower and you'll be golden."

Gordon glared at the lieutenant, but then his expression changed and he nudged Bowles.

One of the side doors to the courtyard had opened, and Colonel Konrad stepped through the door and entered the garden. Gordon looked over to where Sgt. Crosby was chatting up the newest member of the 33rd, and after he made eye contact with the sergeant nodded. Crosby had told Bowles and the other soldiers that Konrad had been summoned to Princess Henrietta's chambers, so everyone was itching to find out what went down.

Crosby excused himself from Saito and casually walked over towards where the colonel was sampling some of the cold buffet's offerings.

"The cold chicken and sliced Gallian cheeses are quite good, sir."

Konrad looked up and gave the sergeant a slight smile.

"Thank you, sergeant, I think I'm capable of picking my way through this spread."

Crosby nodded, but didn't leave quite yet. He noticed that the colonel's dress uniform shirt was off. The front of the normally mint-green shirt had a slightly darker shade to it, as if something had been spilled and wiped up. The Zulu Squad sergeant looked and and saw Konrad looking at him with the same slight smile.

"Go ahead, sergeant, and ask."

"Sir?"

"It's written all over your face, sergeant, and every soldier in this garden stiffened up as soon as I walked in. So go ahead and ask."

Crosby nodded.

"Um…sir, how is the princess?"

He noticed that Louise was also looking their way, and probably straining her ears to listen in. He looked back at Konrad, who spoke up.

"She's doing about as well as can be expected, given the circumstances."

He went back to picking through the cold buffet. When he saw Crosby hadn't moved, he smirked slightly.

"If you want a more detailed sit-rep then I'm afraid it will have to wait until after lunch. Suffice it to say the princess is doing better than she was last night. Will there be anything else, sergeant?"

Crosby shook his head and saluted.

"No, sir!"

Konrad nodded.

"Very well, carry on."

Crosby started to go, but his CO stopped him.

"One more thing, sergeant. After everyone is eating, I have an announcement to make regarding our secret weapon. I'll give the debriefing after everyone's had some chow."

"Roger that, sir."

Crosby left the colonel and made his way back to the circle of officers who were finishing eating. Bowles looked at the Zulu Squad sergeant expectantly.

"Well, sergeant?"

Crosby smiled.

"Well, what, sir?"

Bowles grinning and punched Crosby lightly on the elbow.

"Don't pull that shit on me, sarge, dish up, what did the colonel say?"

Crosby shook his head.

"All he said was that the princess is faring better this morning than she did last night. He might go in to more details once he's had food in his stomach."

Gordon nudged Crosby and nodded.

"On the other hand, we might get our answer sooner, sarge."

Another door opened onto the courtyard and there stepped Princess Henrietta. Immediately all of the Tristainians stiffened up and bowed to her, both Louise and Agnès came running up to their monarch.

"Y-your Majesty! We are so-"

But the princess held up a forestalling hand, although she smiled at her friend Louise.

"Thank you for your concern, my dear friend. I am fine as you can see, but I must speak to Colonel Konrad."

Henrietta walked up to where Konrad was standing, who quickly set down his plate and came to attention. She smiled, and took one of his hands.

"I just wanted to thank you John, for your kind words this morning. I know that with your help and the help of your men my kingdom will be safe."

She let go of his hand and turned to one of her servants, who held an ornate wooden casket. She then opened it to reveal a golden livery collar with the badge of the Tristainian royal house. The princess removed the collar and offered it to Konrad.

"In recognition for the service you have rendered, I, Henrietta, Crown Princess of Tristain, bestow this accolade to you, with the title of nobility and the office of Lord General of the Royal Tristainian Army."

The colonel accepted the accolade.

"Your Highness, I thank you for this accolade, I promise to discharge my duty as expected, and I will keep your kingdom safe while I and my men still breathe."

She looked up to him with shimmering blue eyes, and spoke in a lower voice.

"Remember that now you are a noble, John Konrad, that is one less reason for you not to accept my overtures."

Konrad smiled back at her, and spoke in the same hushed voice.

"Thank you, Henrietta, but now you're drawing attention on yourself, and I also have to address my men, if I may have leave?"

She nodded and stepped back to be with her friend Louise.

Konrad turned around to face his men. He looked down at the costly gift and smirked at the assembled soldiers.

"I'll bet when you signed up to be in the 33rd you never thought you'd see your CO become royalty, eh, gentlemen?"

The soldiers chuckled and responded in the negative.

"Well, gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed the princess's hospitality, and that you got your laughs and giggles out of the way, because now I have an announcement to make."

He strode to the middle where he could see all his men.

"Gentlemen, the announcement in question concerns the discussion about our secret weapon. After giving it considerable thought, I have decided not to use Willy Pete."

There was an immediate ripple through the crowd of soldiers. Some of them, like Saito and Alex, seemed relieved, others like Bowles were shocked.

"Whilst I understand that Willy Pete could give us an advantage on the battlefield and would increase the odds of a decisive victory against the Reconquista, I also have seen what it can do. All of us have left demons behind when we escaped Dubai, and I for one never want to see the horrors of Willy Pete being inflicted on this new world."

Konrad paused to look over at the princess, who gave a small smile. He continued.

"I believe we can win this war using the conventional firepower on the Spectre gunship, and using the firepower and manpower currently at our disposal, and I think we can win without being branded war criminals. Formal debriefing for the officers and NCO's will be at 1500 hours this afternoon. Until then, you're dismissed!"

The colonel then left the courtyard without another word, leaving all the soldiers buzzing over the announcement.

* * *

><p>Later that night Crosby opened his eyes to find the green-haired lady sitting on the edge of his rack. He smiled at her.<p>

"Hey you, you owe me a kiss!"

She put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled.

**_"_****_If you wish that, then perhaps we should pick a more private venue to converse."_**

She snapped her fingers, and Crosby found himself in an enchanted forest with vivid shimmering green leaves. He turned to see Tinúviel standing next to him with a small butterfly in her palm, whispering to it in some soft tongue.

"You would be very proud of Colonel Konrad, ma'am."

She released the butterfly and it splayed its multicolored wings and flew off.

**_"_****_Oh?"_**

"Yep. The colonel made the decision not to use Willy Pete in this war against the Reconquista, we're using Geneva-approved ordnance, just like you said."

She smiled at him, and reached out with one of her hands to stroke his cheek.

**_"_****_This decision your Colonel Konrad has made will be instrumental in his and others absolution, so it gladdens me to hear this."_**

Crosby was feeling a bit bold, so he reached to stroke her cheek. The skin on her radiant face was as soft as he remembered when she healed him, and he pushed some of her emerald-green hair away from her face. When some strands of her hair revealed her right ear, he was shocked. Her ear was pointed, unlike Tiffania and her kinsfolk's ears which were long, thin and knife-like, Tinúviel's ear came to a delicate point.

"My, my, Tinúviel, what pointed ears you have. Although they're not as pointed as the elves I've seen in Helkeginia."

She giggled again, and took his hands in hers.

**_"_****_`Tis true, but my kind is much, much older than the elven folk of this Tapestry."_**

She looked at him, her green eyes shimmering.

_**"I suddenly discover that I know much about you, but you know next to nothing about me. Would you like to hear my tale, Robert Crosby?"**_

The Zulu Squad sergeant brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed one of her tiny knuckles.

"It would be my pleasure, ma'am."

She smiled again, and sat down next to a large tree, motioning him to do the same.

**_"_****_My tale, like yours, begins at the end in another world…"_**

_(AN: So a couple of things, before you start throwing rotten tomatoes at your humble friend and narrator regarding Konrad's decision, remember I don't put anything into Helkeginia without the intention of using it. Without revealing any big plot spoilers that's all I'm saying on the matter. Second, if you don't know who Tinúviel is by now, by next chapter you will. I've decided to dedicate a chapter to her own backstory so you know how she came to be the Weaver of Fate. Should be up by sometime next week. Until then!)_


	71. How the Weaver of Fate Came to Be

_And thus in anguish she had paid  
><em>

_for that doom upon her lover laid,  
><em>

_and in his doom was she was snared,  
><em>

_the deathless in his dying shared.  
><em>

_But in death she was reborn again_

_As One who defied Fate's cruel chain_

_And rewove the Tapestry to find _

_Another's heart with hers to bind._

_- __Ǣ__sbi__ǫ__rn, "The Song of Tinúviel"_

* * *

><p>Throughout the ages hence many would sing songs of Lúthien, the most beautiful and precious daughter of King Thingol, and of her mysterious death. For the elves are immortal and cannot die, some spoke of her striking a bargain with Lord Eru, so that she could be reunited with her lover in death, others still say she gave up her spirit, having lost her will to live without her beloved. But the truth is more mysterious still.<p>

* * *

><p>The last strains of her sad song of Beren's death left her lips, and Námo, Lord of the Halls of Mandos, sat impassively on His throne. She was Lúthien, daughter of Elu Thingol, the King of Doriath, High King of the Sindar, High King of the Teleri, and Lord of Beleriand and many other titles too numerous for mortal tongues to fathom, and she was also the beloved of Beren. Beren, son of Barahir royal House of Bëor, had perished in battle having accomplished the task beset upon him by her father; she had been there in his last moments, cradling his broken body, until he breathed his last. Then, collapsing in grief, the deathless elf princess too had died.<p>

A pregnant silence permeated the Great Hall after she finished her song of entreaty. Námo's own dark visage was unreadable; His was to the unjust the terrifying sight of their own damnation, as He was judge of all souls who passed through the Veil and into His halls.

The silence was broken by Him speaking, though barely above a whisper his voice was deep and terrible, tempered only by the gentleness of his words.

"Great is your grief, child. For to have your lover from your heart untimely ripped, is a burden that none should have to bear, let alone one such as yourself."

He stood up from his throne.

"But alas, this is a matter beyond my power."

Lúthien, the last of her strength spent, collapsed to her knees in anguish and wept. Her tears fell on the floor of the great hall, those floors were fashioned out of obsidian and polished to a glass-like shine. In that glass, she caught sight of her reflection, and a gasp escaped her lips at what stared back at her. Her face, once considered the most beautiful in the entire Realm, was lined and the pallid hue of death. Her hair, once so lustrous and strong that she fashioned from it a means to escape imprisonment from her father, was grey and her once radiant eyes were dull. The legendary beauty that had once charmed even the Dark Lord Morgoth was no more, and she was but a shadow of her living self. She let out a small whisper.

"Please, my Lord, I beg of you…"

She felt a strong hand take her chin with gentleness that was at odds with the hideous strength behind it, and she raised her eyes to look into the visage of the Lord of Mandos.

"Such is the will of our Lord Eru, and His will is Absolute."

His eyes, like glowing coals, seemed to soften.

"However…"

She slowly rose to her feet, and her hopes rose with her.

"…There may be another way. There is another as powerful as our Lord Eru, who also created a world. This Being is called Ǣsbiǫrn, which in our tongue means The Storyteller, He can help you. To Him you must go, for He holds the key to granting that which you desire."

Lord Námo turned and without another word sat on his throne, but clapped his hands together with a sound like mountains splitting and the thunder cracking, and Lúthien vanished from the Halls of Mandos was never seen by her kin again.

* * *

><p>Instantly her eyes were blinded by a bright white light, and she was astonished at the sight that greeted her. Before her stretched a long beach of white sand, with a deep blue sea that stretched to the horizon. The only sound that greeted her ears was the lapping of the tide and the crying of seagulls.<p>

This must be His World, Lúthien said to herself, and she set out immediately to find Him. For what seemed like an eternity she wandered the pristine white beach, and after a while she came upon nothing but a large, flat rock worn smooth from the water. Quickly she turned away in the opposite direction, and walked for another long time, only to find the same flat rock.

Finally exhausted, she collapsed onto the rock and began weeping. A shadow shaded her from the sun, and a cheery voice spoke up.

"Hey there, are you okay?"

She looked up, and after her eyes focused from the brightness of the world's sun, she could see that it was a man carrying a fishing pole with two large fish on a line. He had neither the youthful features of a boy nor the craggy lined face of an old man, but was somewhere in the middle. He had sunburned skin, and was wearing sand-colored breeches that were cut off at the knees with a short-sleeved tunic of brightly colored material. He had scruffy blonde beard and sun-bleached hair tucked under a straw hat that he had just removed.

"Come come now, a pretty gal like you shouldn't be crying. What's wrong?"

Lúthien wiped her tears away.

"I feel that I am lost, good sir. I am looking for someone, someone very important."

The man nodded, then turned and whistled. A dog with tan and black fur came bounding up. The dog sat and looked up expectantly with large expressive eyes.

"Barnaby, I need you to take the fish back to the cottage, and fire up the grille. We're going to have company for dinner tonight."

The dog nodded, and stood on it hindpaws and took the fish. As the dog turned to leave the man spoke up again.

"Oh, and Barnaby? No sampling the fish while you cook it, got it?"

The dog whimpered, but nodded and bounded off. The man turned back to Lúthien and offered her a hand.

"Come along, pretty lady. I'll help you find what you're looking for, but ya can't find someone on an empty stomach, so I insist you come for dinner."

She didn't know what to say, so she accepted his hand and he gently pulled her to her feet. He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and began whistling a merry tune. After a short walk a cottage became visible on the horizon. Lúthien wondered how it was possible that she missed it, as it appeared as though the stranger was leading her in the same direction she had just come from.

But there was the cottage, with little wooden steps that led from the sandy beach to a small wooden porch. There on the porch was a stove made of brick, in which a fire was burning. She almost laughed at the sight of the man's dog wearing an apron and cooking the fish on a metal grille above the fire. She looked back to the cottage; it was small and was cobbled together from sea-faring vessel timber but looked homey. The man set his fishing poles by the front door, opening it and invited her inside.

The inside of the cottage was small but inviting, there was a sitting area with a couch and a chair next to a brick fireplace, one of the walls was dominated by a large wooden bookshelf teeming with old leatherbound books. On the other side of the couch was a small table where stacks of paper were strewn about in an untidy heap. The stranger offered Lúthien the couch, and he walked over to a low table where several glass bottles were.

"Can I get you something to drink? You've got to be thirsty after such a journey."

Lúthien was surprised.

"How did you know of my journey here?"

He turned around and smiled cryptically.

"Well, nobody comes here by happenstance, and everyone who comes here has made some sort of journey to get here."

The man went back to clinking with glasses and bottles, and finally turned around with a small glass filled with ice. The liquid was translucent with a slight yellowish green tint to it. She looked back to the man, who had made a second glass for himself and raised a glass.

"Here's lookin' at you, er, sorry…?"

She nodded.

"Lúthien, my name is Lúthien, the Morning Star."

He smiled.

"A pretty name for a pretty gal. Well, here's to you, Lúthien, the Morning Star."

She took a small sip, and was rewarded with a sudden burst of flavor, something that was both sweet and tart, and refreshing. She noticed the man took more generous sip of his and set it down.

"Well, Barnaby should have supper ready in a few, `fraid the menu's not what you're used to but it's going to be some nice grilled swordfish with some fresh plantains."

The man continued to chat her up, and as the time wore on, Lúthien found herself growing impatient. The sun was setting, and the more time she spent with this stranger the less time she would have to find this Ǣsbiǫrn.

She started fidgeting with her glass as her host was making a second one for himself. After he took a sip and found it to his satisfaction, he set the glass down by his chair and noticed she wasn't drinking.

"What's the matter, the drink too strong for ya? I can dilute it with some limeade if you like."

Lúthien shook her head.

"No, it's quite good, but there is something I have to say."

She set her glass down and looked earnestly at the man, who had pulled out a briar pipe and was going through the complex ritual of lighting it.

"Good sir, you've been nothing but kind to me in showing me your hospitality, I hate to sound ingrateful but I must be on my way; it's imperative that I find this person."

Her host finished lighting his pipe and blew a smoke ring.

"No worries, I told you I can help you find him. Who is this fella you're looking for?"

Immediately Lúthien relaxed, she had feared that this man would be insulted, but his manners put her at ease enough to trust him.

"The One I seek is the Lord and Master of this realm, He is called Ǣsbiǫrn, the Storyteller. Have you heard of him?"

A thoughtful look crossed her hosts face as he puffed on his pipe. Finally he exhaled a cloud of sweet blue smoke, and set it down.

"Ǣsbiǫrn…are you certain that is the one you seek?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Yes, absolutely. Lord Mandos said that this Ǣsbiǫrn could grant that which I desire, and I very much need His help."

The man thoughtfully puffed on his pipe.

"Ǣsbiǫrn…now that name is one that I haven't heard in a long time…a long time."

Lúthien leaned forward.

"So, you know of Him? Can you take me to Him?"

The man smiled.

"Well of course I know Him. As for me taking you to Him…well I have. You've been talking to Him for the last ten minutes."

For the briefest of moments, she saw something powerful and ancient in the man's features, something both majestic and terrifying, but then the moment passed, and he was still sitting there, chuckling bemusedly as he sipped his cocktail.

"I haven't gone by the name Ǣsbiǫrn, since, oh before you were born."

Immediately Lúthien dropped to one knee in obeisance.

"My Lord, I meant no disrespect to doubt your existence, please forgive me!"

The man chuckled and stood up. He gently put a hand on each of her shoulders and raised her up and set her back down on the sofa.

"Oh, and you were doing so well. Please, I can't stand groveling. It's one of the reasons I didn't tell you who I was at the start."

She fidgeted in her seat and quickly sipped the fruity alcoholic drink to steady her nerves.

"Why is that, my Lord?"

He smiled at her.

"Call me Country. Or Country Ollman, if you're not into that whole informal one-name thing."

She nodded.

"Please, Lord Country, why did You not reveal Yourself to me? Why all the subterfuge?"

She saw a melancholy look cross his normally cheery features and quickly added.

"Not that I minded, Lord Country, Your company was most enjoyable."

He shook his head.

You wanna know why I pose as a regular human, toots? Because…nobody knows what it's like to be the Master, the Big Cheese, the Chairman of the Board. They don't know how lonely it is at the top."

He saw the odd look she was giving him, and he chuckled again.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking…you'd think being an all-powerful Creator of everything out of thin air would be all sunshine and pink clouds and bunnies, but it's difficult because nobody wants to talk to you just as a person. They're always begging you for boons, or begging forgiveness from some transgression I didn't even take offense at, and if they're not doing that they're whining at you because some random storm ruined their crops, and they think I singled them out for punishment or penance. They never just want to chat one on one like ordinary folks over coffee or a beer."

Lúthien was genuinely surprised as His behavior. This Ǣsbiǫrn was so different from what she was expecting. She had expected Him to be like Lord Mandos, a severe, powerful god sitting on his throne, not Him taking the form of an informal if charming fellow.

"So, my Lord-"

The air of melancholy dissipated and he grinned, wagging a finger at her.

"I told you, it's Country."

She nodded.

"So, Lord Country, you also have the same powers as Eru?"

He chuckled again.

"Please, toots…it's just Country, or Mr. Ollman if you have to be formal. Lord Country sounds like some rhinestone cowboy act in Vegas."

Lúthien stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language and he waved his hand.

"Long story, but to answer your question, yes I do create things. Whereas your Lord Eru creates stuff through music, I use something a different medium…"

Country waved over to a large object that looked like a book opened in the middle. The top half glowed blue, and had odd runes and geometric shapes drifting about. The bottom half of the construct had small square-shaped buttons, each engraved with a different rune.

"That little device is to me what the Music was to your Lord Eru, the means, the medium, the canvas by which we create something out of nothing."

He shrugged and took another sip and looked at his guest expectantly. Lúthien sat there in uncomfortable silence, trying desperately to muster the courage to ask the question on the tip of her lips. Finally Country spoke in a soft voice.

"I know why you've come, and I'm sorry but I can't bring your boyfriend back."

All the hopes that Lúthien had were dashed, and the familiar ache of despair clutched her stomach. Her host saw tears forming in her eyes. The man rose from his chair and patted her on the shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey, come on toots, don't cry."

Country reached behind him and pulled out a soft clean cotton napkin and offered it to Lúthien. She took it and dried her eyes.

"A pretty girl like you should never cry, it ruins your best feature."

Lúthien looked up from her crying at him, and made a wry face that was supposed to be a smile. He chuckled.

"Yep, see? C'mon, try a bit harder and give me a dazzler!"

She tried a bit harder, and this time a ghost of a smile quirked her lips.

"There you go, that's what I'm talking about; your smile is your best feature!"

She smiled again, and shook her head.

"Regretfully since I have passed beyond the Veil I am but a shadow of my former self, my beauty faded along with my spirit."

Country shook his head.

"I think you're wrong."

He saw the look of confusion on her face.

"Come, let me show you."

He gently pulled Lúthien to her feet and directed her attention to a corner of the house. There was a large free-standing mirror, and the sight of her reflection caused her breath to catch in her throat. Gone was the lifeless grey hair and dull eyes, gone was the skin that was the pallid hue of death.

Her hair was long and flowed as if tousled by an unseen wind; it was the lustrous color of emerald, or the greenest forest in Doriath. Her eyes shimmered bright and were the same hue as her hair, her face was radiant and reflected the beauty of her old life a hundredfold. She looked down for the first time and noticed her raiment was different. She wore a dress woven of the finest silk and muslin, the color of lavender, with a border along the hems that was embroidered in pure gold. It hung off her frame so as to make her appear to float or glide on air.

She looked back to Country, who was beaming like an artisan admiring his handiwork.

"Not too bad if I daresay so myself. Which I do."

He walked back over to his pipe and glass.

"Look, I can't undo what was done in your world. Nobody can. Those patterns were prewoven in the Great Tapestry."

She looked at him.

"The Great Tapestry?"

He grinned again.

"Yes, this world, and all the worlds I create and all the worlds your Lord Eru created are part of the Great Tapestry. The persons and places in those worlds are patterns within the Great Weave."

He looked directly at her.

"And that is where I need your help, toots. I'm not much of a micromanager, so I need someone to fill in."

He looked over to Lúthien, who was still admiring her new appearance in the mirror.

"I hear you have some mad weaving skills."

She looked up and blushed.

"Nay, my Lord, my mother was better skilled in such arts than I."

Country shook his head.

"Oh, come on, I've read your tale, I saw how your old man locked you up in a tower to keep you away from your boyfriend. No offense to your pops, but he was really genre blind."

She smiled.

"'Tis true, I made my hair grow and weaved a rope to climb down from the tower."

The man grinned.

"And that's precisely what I'm looking for, toots. Someone with some mad weaving skills, and someone who can think outside the box, to help alter the patterns within this Great Tapestry for the better."

Lúthien cocked her head to one side.

"My Lord, what is this Great Tapestry of which you speak?"

He took one of her delicate hands in his.

"They say a picture is worth a thousand words, toots. Let me show you."

Suddenly the beach, the cottage and the room disappeared, in in its place was a bright white light. He let go of her hand and made a sweeping gesture.

"This, my dear, is the Celestial Empyrean. As the Weaver of Fate, you will be Mistress of this realm."

With a snap of his fingers suddenly they were in a long gallery, filled with pictures that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Upon closer inspection these pictueres were woven in cloth, and as Lúthien stared at them, she could see that they were, in fact, moving. There were tapestries of great warriors battling dragons, heroes of old rescuing their lovers from the snares of evil witches, and others still. Some were downright bizarre, tapestries where the women had bright-colored hair from every color of the rainbow, who fought battles over a single man. She turned back to Ǣsbiǫrn, who gestured to one of them.

"Each of these Tapestries are living, moving entities, each being woven in this Tapestry is a unique thread that is part of the pattern in that Tapestry."

He looked at her.

"What you can do, as the Weaver of Fate, is to weave these Tapestries for the better. You can even pluck these threads out, and weave them into other Tapestries where they can do good."

Lúthien looked at him.

"But how?"

He smiled and took one of her hands.

"Let me show you an example."

He then led her through the gallery and paused at one tapestry. This one was completely unlike any of the other ones. This was of a world of sand, where people stood huddled in darkness and living in squalor, and men wearing odd sand-colored clothes and bizarre armor fired cruel metal crossbolts at one another. It was a world of violence and despair. There was a vision within the Tapestry of persons being burned alive with an unquenchable hellfire, and in terror and disgust Lúthien shut out the vision. She turned back to Ǣsbiǫrn.

"Why did you show me this tapestry? `Tis a wretched hive of violence and misery, worse than the Dark Realms."

Ǣsbiǫrn smiled.

"True, but I picked this Tapestry to show as an example of what you can do. This particular Tapestry was prewoven, it cannot be changed, not even by those who wove it to begin with. All those threads within the Tapestry are stuck repeating the same patterns that brought them all that misery and death that they currently experience. And they must experience it over, and over, again."

He looked at her.

"You can change that. It's true, there's a lot of wickedness in this Tapestry, but if you look closely enough, you will find that there are threads within the patterns of the weave that are worth saving, and weaving them into another Tapestry where they can redeem themselves."

She marveled at such power, but then a frown creased her radiant face.

"B-but I don't understand, my Lord. Lord Mandos told me that you could grant me that which I desired…"

He walked up to her and took her hand.

"I told you that I can't bring your boyfriend back from the dead, but your heart was bound to his heart, you had that connection, one thing that separated him from all the other mortal men was his warrior's heart, was it not?"

She blushed and nodded.

"`Tis true, none were more brave or noble than he."

"Well, what I'm telling you is that with this new gig you have you can find that which you seek."

He motioned towards the Tapestry in front of them.

"Take a closer look, and tell me what you see."

Lúthien stared at the various threads and patterns within the Tapestry, and sure enough she began to see each of the oddly dressed beings, not as threads, but as mortal men. She found that she could read each of their hearts and desires, and, as Ǣsbiǫrn said, they were not truly evil, but misguided. One such person terrified her at first, he was wearing black and white armor that was fashioned to look like a skull, but then she singled him out, and looked closer.

She breathed sharply when she read his heart.

"His heart! This one's heartfire is strong, like, like…"

The being called Ǣsbiǫrn, The Story Teller and Country Ollman smiled.

"Now you see, toots."

She tore her eyes away from the man with the warrior's heart to look back at her Lord.

"What would you have me do, my Lord?"

He shrugged.

"Well, depends, what do you see in his heart?"

She smiled.

"He has a warrior's heart, just like my beloved, and he yearns to be a hero. But this Tapestry has forced him to become a monster."

Ǣsbiǫrn raised his hand, and another Tapestry appeared before her. This one was more familiar to her, it was an idyllic world where children would learn to wield magic. She found it odd that the females in this Tapestry also had rainbow-colored hair. Then she saw on the horizon a malevolent evil that was brewing, powerful as the Dark Lord Morgoth, but in dragon form. She looked back to Ǣsbiǫrn.

"If I were to make a suggestion, toots, I would put that fella in this world. It's a nice place, but that Evil One is going to make mincemeat out of it. Your warrior can change that."

He turned to leave.

"I'll leave you to it, unless you want to grab some dinner before you set to work. Your dinner won't go to waste, Barbaby will see to that."

She smiled.

"Thank you, my Lord, but I must get to work."

He nodded.

"Ok, toots, Barbaby'll thank you, I'm sure. Speaking of which, I think you'll have to go by your last name Tinúviel, or the Weaver of Fate, to keep things uncomplicated."

A portal that opened to his den appeared.

"If you need anything just holler. And good luck on your first day on the job."

Tinúviel, the Weaver of Fate, smiled and waved goodbye to her new Lord and Master. She then turned and began to weave a new story, one that would have this warrior in black and white become a hero, and have their paths cross so she would be once again reunited with her beloved.

_(AN: And there you have it, the Weaver of Fate is none other than Lúthien. For those readers who aren't die-hard Tolkien fans, Lúthien is a herione from the Simarillion, and was an elf princess from the 1__st__ Age who fell in love with a mortal named Beren. She was considered to be the most beautiful creature in all of Middle Earth, Arwen (that would be Liv Tyler to those who watched the LOTR movies) is Lúthien's great-great granddaughter, and even Arwen's beauty was considered to pale in comparison to hers. Anyways this was a bit of a challenge in trying to emulate Tolkien's writing style to reflect this story, so hopefully I did it justice. Standard disclaimers apply, I don't own anything by Tolkien, so Peter Jackson and Chris Tolkien don't send any legbreakers over, I ain't got nuthin'..._

_And it was a bit of an ego trip to have the Godlike Author Avatar speak, and since I be the Godlike Author Avatar, I can make myself as witty and intelligent as I ain't in the real world. Now you know why she plucked Sgt. Crosby out of Dubai. Next chapter probably won't be up until the weekend, as I'm stubbing out the 1__st__ battle between the Reconquista and the 33__rd__, and it's taking more time that I expected.)_


	72. Recon

_(AN: So, like the previous chapter, I've had this one more or less done for a while, so all I needed to do was fill in some gaps. Hopefully there's not too many mistakes. Enjoy!)_

Crosby sat spellbound, listening to Tinúviel recount her tale with that melodious voice of hers, from her death to her rebirth as the Weaver of Fate at the hands of her Lord Ǣsbiǫrn. It was as if she was singing a beautiful song, so it was no hyperbole to say that he was almost hypnotized by her tale. When she finished, he felt a knot in his stomach, as if part of him wanted to hear more, to listen to her voice, and her singing, again.

For a long time she just sat there, holding one of his hands in her. Finally Crosby broke the silence.

"That was…beautiful."

She brushed some of her hair out of her face and spoke.

**_"_****_I'm glad you enjoyed it. T'was a beautiful tale, if sad."_**

"Oh, I don't know, I liked the ending well enough. Aside from it ending."

She smiled at him.

**_"_****_But my tale has not ended yet, Robert Crosby, just as yours has not ended. Our tales are both entwined, for yours shall end when you become the Hero, just as mine shall end when I am reunited with my beloved forever."_**

It took Crosby a few moments to process what she said.

"You mean…me?"

Tinúviel reached out and touched his scarred cheek, and there was a faraway look in her green eyes as she spoke.

**_"_****_Indeed, you have burning within you that same heartfire that my beloved had. That is why I plucked you from that sand-ridden hell, that is why I have absolute confidence that you will become the hero in this Tapestry. For when you accomplished your task of becoming the Hero, then shall both our tales finished."_**

He didn't know what to say, so he reached out and ran his hand along her delicate neck. Gently he pulled her forward and she did not resist. Crosby felt himself leaning in towards her, his vision was completely consumed by that radiant face, those hypnotic green eyes that reflected his own soul. He could almost feel those soft lips brush his.

"Crosby-san! Wake up!"

He groaned. Tinúviel smiled, leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

**_"_****_Another time, Robert Crosby."_**

The Zulu Squad sergeant let out a particularly crude curse, which caused her to cover her mouth and giggle that same musical laughter as before.

"Don't wait too long, I may die of old age before I get that kiss from you, Miss Tinúviel."

Then his vision swam and he was blinded by light. When his eyes adjusted Crosby found himself looking up at Saito. He shook his head.

"Specialist, you could have waited another couple of minutes."

Saito grinned.

"Were you and the Lady about to kiss again?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant frowned.

"Did Lugo tell you?"

Saito shook his head.

"No, actually Lt. Gordon told me, he said that Alex told him, and that Lt. McPherson told him. I guess Lugo had brought it up when they were having one of their boozing sessions at the Vallière Estate."

Crosby groaned.

"I guess it's too much for someone to keep a secret around here."

He looked up to the Tokyo teen turned specialist.

"What's with the wake-up call?"

Saito nodded.

"Sgt. Lugo told me that he and Siesta are getting married this morning, he was going to do it before…well before all the kidnapping business happened, but now since the Romalian bishop is leaving Siesta wanted to have him perform the ceremony before he left."

The older soldier sat up in his cot and yawned.

"So when is this blessed event going to take place?"

Saito looked down at his watch, also one of Lt. Benson's effects.

"In about thirty minutes, Crosby-san. And Lugo said he wanted you to be his best man."

At that, Crosby leapt out of his rack.

"Shit the bed! Why didn't you say sooner?!"

* * *

><p>The cathedral in Tristainia was just across the square from the royal palace's main gates, in its centuries-long existence it had seen countless coronations and royal weddings. The ceremony currently being held was by far the oddest sight ever seen. The sacred buttressed walls of the cathedral reverberated with the richly accented baritone voice of the cleric officiating the matrimonial ceremony.<p>

He was wearing the customary chasuble and mitre as fitting of a high-ranking cleric within the Romalian court, but he was a giant of a man. Indeed, the lecturn from which he delivered his homily seemed miniscule next to his massive bulk. The congregation that listened to the giant in bishop's vestments elaborate on the sacredness of marriage was an odd sight itself.

They were a motely mix of soldiers in digital ACU's on the groom's side, while peasants and nobles mixed together on the bride's side. In the royal pew off to the side sat Tristain's monarch Princess Henrietta, and to her right sat her Lord General and Marshall of her armed Forces.

Crosby was sweating in his Zulu Squad armor as he was unable to procure any formal attire and his eveningwear destroyed in his disastrous skirmish with the thief Fouquet. He turned in his chair to look over to his CO, who in spite of wearing the recently bestowed livery collar with his olive green dress uniform was very conspicuously drab next to the princess's lavish formal dress and ermine cape. His thoughts where interrupted when he heard someone clear their throat.

"Sergeant Crosby, the ring?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant immediately looked back and saw that Garro was looking at him with a slight smile quirking his lips. Quickly Crosby reached into one of the pouches on his vest and produced two small golden rings. Princess Henrietta had volunteered any bauble from the royal treasury, but in the end Siesta's parents insisted on giving their old matrimonial rings for the ceremony. He handed them to the Romalian bishop. He took one of the rings and turned to the couple. The maid Siesta shyly held out her left hand, and then Lugo took her hand in his own. Holding the tiny gold ring in a massive thumb and forefinger Garro took both of their hands.

"With this ring I bind you both to each other,"

He slid the ring on Siesta's hand, and took the other ring.

"…and in the sight of these witnesses let Almighty Brimir bless this union,"

He slid the other ring on Lugo's hand.

"And may it last until you both are at His side."

Garro bowed his head and murmured something that only Crosby could hear, then the bishop took both of the newlyweds by the hand and guided them towards the box.

"Your Highness Brimir has blessed this union, but it is customary for the reigning monarch to deliver their own blessing."

Henrietta nodded once and stood, and all the congregation rose to their feet. She spoke in a soft but clear voice that echoed through the cathedral.

"Let all my subjects hear my words; I Princess Henrietta, crowned Princess of Tristain, sanction and bless this holy marriage in the sight of Brimir, as it is written. So let it be written, so let it be done."

* * *

><p>Later, outside the cathedral the couple was swarmed by the parents of the bride and her seven siblings Crosby joined the other soldiers flocking to the princess and her entourage.<p>

He saw Lt. Bowles chatting up the Romalian bishop and caught the tail end of the conversation.

"…that was a helluva sermon, padre! Got a real good voice for it too, ain't that right, Private?"

Alex, who had separated himself from Agnès and the princess' entourage, grinned.

"I'll say, it was like trying to sleep through an earthquake."

Garro chuckled lightly, and then saw Crosby looking at him.

"Gentlemen, if you will excuse me."

He turned towards the older sergeant with a neutral expression on his patrician features.

"I know of the question you are about to ask, Sergeant Crosby."

Crosby cocked his head to one side.

"Say what?"

Garro continued.

"You heard the blessing I uttered, and you're curious."

Crosby shrugged.

"You spoke a prayer in what sounded like Latin."

Garro looked thoughtful, and spoke again, although more to himself than to Crosby.

"So, in the early days of man, High Gothic was called 'Latin'? Interesting."

He turned back to Crosby and smiled.

"You have exceptional hearing, so was it that you heard me say?"

"My grammar's a bit rusty," Crosby responded, "but it sounded like you said 'the Emperor Protects'."

Garro raised an eyebrow.

"Did I mistranslate something, your Grace?"

The bishop shook his head.

"No, you are quite correct, that is precisely what I said."

"Is this Emperor a deity where you came from, Like Brimir is a god here."

Garro's eyes hardened, but only briefly, and as soon as it appeared it was gone, to be replaced with a sad smile.

"The Emperor in my world is more than just a mere deity that people pray to, Sergeant Crosby."

He held up one of his hands to forestall Crosby.

"To explain what He truly is would take a long time, and it is not a pleasant tale to tell, nor one I would tell on this festive day."

Crosby nodded.

"Fair enough. Could I ask just one quick question?"

"Providing it has a quick answer, yes."

"What does it mean?"

"It is a blessing, shortened. The full version is 'The Emperor Protects the Virtuous,' and it is one that I have bestowed on only my closest of friends."

Garro looked over towards the wedding party, and nodded.

"Come, your companions will be off to the reception, and I'm sure you wish to convey your felicitations to your newly wedded friends."

* * *

><p><strong>(Later that evening)<strong>

It was almost midnight when Tiffania led her slightly drunk husband back to their guest quarters at the royal palace. She had witnessed many unique human marriage customs at this reception, although if the reactions of some of the Tristainians were anything to go off of, these customs must have been unique to her beloved's world.

She found the 'Chicken Dance' particularly amusing, although the bridegroom seemed less than enthused about it. She interrupted her musing watching her beloved struggling with his breeches. She knelt down at his feet and pulled the laces off his odd sand-colored boots.

"You know, it would be easier to remove your breeches if you removed your boots first, my love."

Gordon smiled owlishly at her.

"Yeah, I must be a lousy husband, getting drunk at a party and needing help with his boots."

Tiffania pulled one of his boots off, and then was unlacing the other.

"Oh no! You've been so kind, this is the least I can do."

She looked up at him with shimmering eyes, and she reached up to touch the lieutenant's face. Gordon felt his face catch fire at her touch, and something stirred. He knelt down to her level, and took her chin with his hand, and pulled her in close for a kiss. When he pulled back from the kiss, his senses were on fire. He opened his eyes, and then movement by the curtains caught his eye. Quickly his soldier's instincts kicked in.

"GET DOWN!"

He pushed Tiffania to the side and tackled the interloper, the two of them wrestled on the ground, and Gordon was able to pull the intruder's face coverings off, revealing a man with a tattoo on his check. He recognized the insignia right away. Reconquista. The assassin grinned at Gordon, and gained the upper hand, pushing the lieutenant to the floor, and chocking him. Then Tiffania pounced on him.

"Leave him alone!"

The assassin let up, and lashed out, grabbing the elf girl by the hair and twisting her around. Gordon sprang to his feet, but the assassin was too quick. He held his wand to Tiffania's throat.

"Not so fast, Outworlder. Now, you're going to come with me; quietly, or the knife-eared bitch gets it."

Gordon seethed, but raised his hands.

"Okay, fine, just put the wand away and let her go!"

The assassin smirked, and pointed his wand at the lieutenant, muttering an incantation as he did. Suddenly Gordon was struck by a bolt of purple energy, and he was frozen to the spot. The assassin dragged Tiffania over to where her beloved was trapped. She saw with horror that Gordon's eyes were still moving.

"You see, that is a special little spell of my own creation, you cannot move a muscle, yet you are fully aware of your surroundings. I call it, 'I Have No Mouth, Yet I Must Scream.'"

A lecherous grin spread over the assassin's face as he reached over to fondle the elf girl.

"Mmmm, maybe I'll have some fun with her before I take you, just to make sure she doesn't follow. And you can enjoy the view."

As distracted as he was by Tiffania's bust, the assassin didn't see her right hand snake over towards the overturned candelabra. Then, without warning, she whipped around and clonked the assassin on the side of the head with it, causing him to stagger back.

"Bitch! I'm going to make you suffer for that!"

Tiffania didn't respond, but appeared to take a deep breath, and before the assassin could react, she cried out. It was a cross between a shout, a scream and a brief song. A blast of unstoppable force hit the assassin full on, and he flew back and hit the wall with the force of a freight train. When the assassin slumped to the ground, Gordon collapsed, the spell broken.

Immediately she rushed over to his side and hugged him.

"Are you alright, my love? Can you move?"

Gordon groaned, but nodded.

"Did…did he hurt you?"

She blushed, but shook her head.

"No, the filthy lech was interrupted before he could do anything."

Their words were interrupted by the door being kicked open. Bowles and Crosby burst in, their submachine guns checking corners and securing the room.

"Clear!" Crosby said somewhat unnecessarily, then he looked down at the lieutenant and the elf.

"You okay, Sir? We heard sounds of struggles and then a loud...something. Figured there must be trouble."

He looked over to Bowles, who had approached the assassin and kicked his wand away.

"Actually, sarge, I though that the loot and his bride were finally doing the deed and just doing a bit of roughhousing as foreplay."

Both Crosby and Gordon rolled their eyes, and Bowles spoke up again.

"Sergeant, can you lend a hand with your zip-ties and secure this prisoner?"  
>Crosby nodded and slung his P90.<p>

"Roger that, sir."

As Bowles helped him zip-tie the would-be assassin, Crosby looked back over towards Gordon and Tiffania. Both were hugging each other very tightly, he was just glad that both seemed alright. Bowles interrupted his musings.

"Maybe the loot will finally close the deal tonight, I mean, nothing gets the ol' blood flowing like a near kidnapping."

The assassin's eyes shot open, and he tried to speak, only to have Bowles stuff a dirty rag his mouth. He looked up at the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"So, what should we do with this interloper who interrupted the loot's necking with his elf-wife?"

Crosby looked down at the tied up assassin.

"Well sir, I think it's time we introduced this Reconquista fellow to a good old-fashioned, Gitmo waterboarding session."

They both chuckled evilly, and beads of sweat formed on the captive's forehead.

_(AN: Yeah, I'm splitting this in half, because the banter back and forth with our Sphees Mahreen and Crosby padded the chapter out, so part two should be up by the weekend or early next week. Until then!)_


	73. Recon, Part Deux

_(AN: I'm sorry this took so long. Work has me busy (yeah I know it's a broken record by this point, but we're rolling out a new product at work, combine that with the upcoming War with the Reconquista might make updates a bit spotty, but I will keep you guys posted. This chapter is really short and really anvilicious_

_On another note: Yay! We've reached 50K views! A special thank you to all the visitors and faithful followers for making this happen, this silly crackfic would have stayed a Oneshot if not for your interest. I'm not happy that this chapter is so short, but I figured a short chapter is better than no chapter at all.)_

The assassin came to suddenly. His last recollection was that the elf-witch had attacked him with some sort of spell, after which he lost consciousness. As he became aware of his surrounding he realized he was on his back, bound to a some sort of bench or table, with his head lower than his feet, since he could see them. He craned his head to one side, and in the dim light he recognized his intended target, the Outworlder called Gordon who was responsible for the Headington Hill massacre. Standing next to Gordon was another Outworlder, this one wearing black and white armor with some menacing face covering. The one called Gordon spoke to his compatriot.

"Looks like our visitor's awake, sergeant."

Crosby nodded and walked up to the makeshift interrogation table set up in the palace's wine cellar. He slowly pulled his balaclava off his face and glared at the assassin strapped to it.

"Comfy? Good. Here's how this little session is going to go down. You're going to tell me what I want to know, starting with your name and ending with how many troops Oliver Cromwell is sending our way, and how soon they'll get here. If you tell me that, then you will be recognized as a prisoner of war of Tristian and be treated fairly."

He leaned in.

"If you don't, then you will be considered a criminal and charged as a spy in time of war. And we will extract that information out of you, right here. Then if you're lucky you'll just be hanged. So what's it going to be?"

The assassin spat at Crosby, and the old sergeant looked down at the phlegm on his armor. He turned back to Gordon.

"Sir, it would appear as if our prisoner is uncooperative."

He turned back to the assassin with a cold smile on his face.

"You look a bit thirsty after hocking that loogie. How about wetting that whistle of yours?"

Before the assassin could respond the soldier took a strip of cloth and blindfolded him. Deprived of vision, the assassin could only hear or feel, and immediately he felt something being stuffed it into his mouth. Then without warning, he felt like he was drowning.

Crosby held the pitcher of water over the head of the assassin, letting a steady stream of water hit the face and mouth, while keeping an eye on his watch as he counted the seconds. Then, after about twenty seconds, he stopped and pulled the rag out of the assassin's spluttering mouth. He waited another minute to let his prisoner cough the water out, and then spoke again.

"Alright, let's try this one more time. What is your name?"

The assassin turned his head to one side and coughed out some water.

"H-Henry. My name is Henry Ireton, of Londinium."

Crosby smiled.

"Good. That's progress. Now then, Henry Ireton, how large is the Reconquista army that is bearing down on Tristain?"

Henry shook his head.

"I-I don't know-"

The rest of his response was choked off by having the wet rag stuffed back into his mouth.

"Wrong answer. Looks like you need another drink."

Lt. Gordon watched the proceedings with as much detachment as his few years as an officer in the military could muster. He had been present for several 'enhanced interrogation' of prisoners in Afghanistan, and also was present when they interrogated the CIA agent named Daniels. After Bowles and Crosby had secured the would-be assassin, with Konrad's help they had received permission from Henrietta to find out what sort of army they were up against. She had given them the cellar as a place to conduct the interrogation, although Konrad had been vague about the means they would use to obtain said information. The lieutenant's musings were interrupted by a frightened squeak. He turned and saw Tiffania covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

"That man, he's drowning! What is Mr. Crosby doing?"

He looked over to Crosby and saw the sergeant nod, so Gordon turned and led his elf bride out of the cellar and into the hallway with steps that led back up to the palace. When he shut the door and turned back to face Tiffania, she was crying.

"Look, Tif, that man that Sgt. Crosby is interrogating is a bad man and-"

He stopped when the elf placed a hand on his forearm.

"I know sort of man he is. His is the kind of fanatic that has been hunting and exterminating my kind for centuries."

She looked up to Gordon, her blue eyes shimmering with tears.

"But this is wrong! Mr. Crosby isn't interrogating him, he's torturing him!"

She shook her head vehemently.

"Surely there has to be some other way?"

Gordon slowly shook his head.

"Unfortunately no. You know how fanatical these Reconquista types are, they'd sooner die than give up any information that would compromise their war effort. This interrogation technique inflicts the maximum amount of discomfort on the prisoner without maiming him. He's more likely to spill."

She lowered her eyes.

"But to do something like that…it's horrible…"

Gordon leaned in and put his arms around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. It amazed him that he could still feel her bust through his PALs vest.

"It's war, babe. War is a nasty business, and in order to win sometimes you gotta fight dirty."

Tiffania lifted her head from where it was perched on Gordon's shoulder and looked at him.

"But in a war where evil is used to stop evil, nobody wins."

The lieutenant sighed. He didn't know whether Tiffania was naïve or right. He decided to change the subject.

"Back there, when you…defeated that assassin, it sounded like you screamed or shouted at him. What was that?"

She wiped away a tear and smiled.

"It is a spellsong. That one that I used was the spellsong of Unstoppable Force."

He smiled.

"Well, you sure saved my bacon with it, that was very impressive."

She blushed.

"There are only a few of us that know all three words of power. Long ago, when my people were more numerous, and there were more dragons, it was our only weapon against them so there were more of us that wielded that power."

She lowered her eyes, and her ears drooped.

"Now that we are so few, there are fewer still that know of or even wield it, save me and my brother."

Gordon was about to speak when the door to the cellar opened again and Crosby came out, wiping his hands off. He gave a brief salute.

"Sir."

The lieutenant returned the salute.

"Report in, sergeant."

Crosby nodded.

"Sir, I extracted the information Konrad requested from the prisoner after two sessions."

He looked over to Tiffania, who shrank away from his gaze and hid behind the lieutenant. He looked back to Gordon.

"We need to speak to the princess and the colonel, stat."

Gordon frowned.

"Bad news?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Worse."

_(AN: This has been sitting in my doc folder for almost a week. Work's just been so nuts I only got around to editing it and posting it this evening. Hopefully it makes sense. In hindsight I should have just bumpered it into the previous chapter. And I hope I wasn't too anvilicious with the whole 'waterboarding is evulz' bit. I'm stubbing out the upcoming battle which is already turning into a monster in itself, but we still have a few more chapters until then. Should have another chapter up by the weekend.)_


	74. Bad News Travels Fast

_(AN: I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this out. It was originally going to be much longer, but this week has been crazy busy, and I had this in my doc folder since like Saturday but haven't had a chance to expand it. So I'm posting it. Hope you enjoy!)_

"Can you awake the colonel-er, Lord General?"

The guard posted at Konrad's chamber door looked at Gordon and Crosby nervously.

"B-but sir, his Lordship is asleep!"

Crosby stepped forward.

"It's important, soldier. We'll take the rap, just step aside."

When the guard complied the two soldiers pushed open the doors. Inside was a large suite of rooms like the type that Crosby had, only more posh, if that were possible. Crosby gingerly approached the four poster bed where his CO was sleeping.

"Report, sergeant."

Konrad's voice cut through the darkness.

Crosby and Gordon stood at attention.

"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you, but you requested a sit-rep when intel was obtained from the prisoner."

Their CO sat up in bed, clad in a black tee shirt.

"As I would assume, sergeant, since you are in my bedchambers."

Konrad yawned and lit a candelabra next to the bed.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, report in."

Crosby relaxed to an 'at ease' formation and spoke.

"Sir, according to the prisoner, at approximately 0800 hours this morning an invasion flotilla of Reconquista airships set sail from Londinium for Tristain, with Oliver Cromwell leading them."

Konrad was silent for a while, and then spoke up.

"ETA?"

Crosby looked over to Gordon, then spoke.

"Less than 48 hours, if the weather cooperates, sir."

That caught Konrad's attention, and he leaned forward.

"What sort of numbers are we talking about?"

Crosby swallowed hard before continuing.

"A shitload, sir."

Konrad smiled thinly.

"Could you apply a slightly more concrete number, sergeant? I'm not sure how the US Army standard measure of 'shitload' translates to Tristainian metric."

Crosby pulled out a small sheet of paper where some numbers were scrawled.

"Sir, according to the prisoner, the Reconquista army is comprised of 1,500 longbowmen archers, 2,500 footmen, 2,500 men at arms and mercenaries, 250 dragon riders and approximately 500 squires, nobles and support staff. The prisoner did not know the exact number of ships within the invasion fleet but I would estimate their numbers based off their army size to be around 200."

Konrad shook his head, threw aside the covers of his bed and stood up. As he walked over to his wardrobe where his uniform and gear were stowed he looked back at Crosby.

"First order of business is to let our boys know what's going on, this wasn't a surprise as we knew they were coming, just not how soon."

He looked over to Gordon.

"Lieutenant, at first light I want you to take a detail of men with you and round up ditch diggers, masons, navvies…basically any commoner that's handy with a shovel or a pickaxe and start building a berm and sandbag emplacement at the entrance of the city walls. Refer to those plans we reviewed yesterday."

Gordon saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

Konrad turned to Crosby.

"Sergeant, at his earliest convenience I want Bowles in the air and flying back to the Academy and pick up our secret weapon. You can either accompany him or send someone who can fly that big bird back here. Then, at first light I want you or whoever you've tasked to it to muster up all the Royal Guards, Sharpshooter Guards, Griffon Guards and any soldier or noble that we've trained to fire a weapon and have them assembled in the courtyard by 0900. I want to know what our battle-readiness is."

Crosby saluted.

"Roger that, sir."

The colonel finished pulling on his combat ACU's and snapped a pistol belt around his waist.

"Gentlemen, I don't need to remind you what's at stake here, so let's convey the sense of urgency without causing a panic."

The lieutenant spoke up.

"Sir, what about Princess Henrietta?"

Konrad sighed and lowered his head.

"I'll inform the princess. Might as well do that now."

He looked back up at his two subordinates.

"Dismissed, gentlemen."

* * *

><p>"But, Lord General, it is the middle of the night! Her Highness is doubtlessly asleep!"<p>

The chevalier Agnès de Milan was leading Konrad to the entrance of the Royal Chambers Wing of the palace.

"Ma'am, I understand that this is a breach of protocol. But this is an emergency, and it won't wait until morning."

He paused at the door to Henrietta's chambers.

"I-I'd appreciate it if you would go in first and rouse the princess, ma'am."

The chevalier nodded, and carefully opened the door and stepped inside. Konrad could hear the princess's soft voice through the door, and then the door opened and Agnès beckoned him to enter. Konrad noticed that she did not follow him in, but shut the door. The colonel turned back into the room, which dark, save for a single candelabra lit by the bedside table and the glow of dying embers in the fireplace. Henrietta was standing by the fireplace, with her back to him and her head lowered. She spoke up in a soft voice.

"It's the Reconquista invasion fleet, isn't it?"

Konrad nodded.

"They set sail from Londinium this morning, and its estimated that they will make landfall in Tristain in less than 48 hours."

The princess looked up suddenly and turned around, and it took all of Konrad's discipline from his thirty-odd year career as a soldier and an officer to keep his composure. Henrietta was in a lace and satin nightgown that seemed vapor thin. It also had a plunging neckline and a slitted skirt. Between her attire and her disheveled purple hair she looked a far cry from the monarch of Tristain. She looked…vulnerable. Konrad closed his eyes and pretended to massage his temples.

"It's worse than we thought, Princess Henrietta. The enemy numbers over seven thousand, if the intel is correct.'

Henrietta gasped.

"Even with all of the Royal Tristainian Army equipped with your guns our numbers are paltry compared to that!"

She closed her eyes, and tears streamed down her face.

"We are outnumbered, and have so little time."

For a long two minutes there was only the sound of soft sobs coming from the princess. The colonel slowly approached her.

"We can win this, princess. My men and I are trained in the art of war, and we're used to fighting against all odds."

The princess turned around and before Konrad could react she quickly wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug, burying her face in his chest.

"I-I'm frightened! Frightened for what may happen to my subjects if we fail…"

She looked back up at Konard, her blue eyes shimmering.

"But you give me confidence, please tell me you'll be there by my side when we face that Reconquista fleet!"

The colonel tried to keep his composure, which was a difficult thing to do when a scantily clad female was glomping him, but he gave Henrietta a reassuring smile.

"I promise, your Highness."

That caused her to smile at him.

"I seem to recall telling you that you have leave to call me Henrietta, John."

Konrad saw she was still doing the eye shimmer thingie that Crosby and his other subordinates spoke about, and suddenly he felt very self-conscious. He decided to switch tack.

"Ah...very well, Henrietta. But don't feel back about being scared or nervous. We all get that way."

He looked down at the princess.

"The important thing, as a leader, is never let it show to your subordinates, or subjects."

Henrietta smiled at him, and she was about to say something when the door opened, and Agnès barged in.

"Your Highness, General du Poitiers is requesting an audience with you in the war room at your earliest-"

She looked up to see her monarch tightly hugging Konrad. Henrietta's eyes widened and quickly disengaged from the colonel. Agnès blushed and quickly fell to one knee.

"Your Highness, please forgive my intrusion!"

Konrad watched as Henrietta frowned and berated Agnès for not knocking, and, seeing as he had delivered the news to the Tristainian monarch, decided that a tactical retreat was in order. The princess didn't notice Konrad as he edged away and slipped out the open door. Once outside in the hallway he let out a deep sigh and wiped the beads of sweat that had suddenly collected on his forehead.

"Colonel, sir?"

Konrad spun around to see Crosby standing there at attention.

"I've roused and debriefed the men, sir. Bowles is powering up his `Bird as we speak, but the men were asking about you."

The colonel nodded.

"They want to hear a pep talk from their CO, sergeant?"

Crosby smiled.

"Nailed it, sir."

He looked over to the door that lead to the princess's chambers.

"How did Princess Henrietta take the news, sir?"

The mental image of the princess hugging him flashed through Konrad's mind.

"Sir?"

Konrad snapped out of his reverie and looked over to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Took it well enough, all things being equal."

He said brusquely. He gestured towards the hall.

"Lead the way, sergeant. Time to deliver the bad news to the men in person."

Crosby saluted and started towards the ballroom of the palace that served as the 33rd's barracks. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that his CO seemed flustered, and wondered just how the princess reacted to the bad news.

_(AN: And the blatant KonradxHenrietta ship-teasing continues. I was trying to strike a balance there and hopefully Konrad wasn't too OOC. There is going to be another 2-5 chapters before we get to the actual battle, and fair warning, I'm still mapping out the battle scenes so that might take a bit longer than some of the other chapters. I'm going to try and have another chapter up by Sunday or Monday. Until then!)_


	75. Saint Crispin's Day

_(AN: So I felt bad about taking so darned long with the last chapter, so here's a quick follow up. This should have been in the previous chapter but I finally had enough time this weekend to churn it out. As I said, the upcoming 1st battle in the War looks like its going to be several chapters, and I'm still working out some of the finer points. Any of my followers/fans/readers that are betas and have experience beta'ing battle sequences I may ask for your help to make sure it's done right. Anyways, here's the chapter!)_

Konrad stood in front of his men, watching each of them wait to hear their commander's words. The colonel smiled, and for a moment he was taken back to those early days of Dubai, before the sandstorm hit and things went from bad to worse.

It was an accident that the Damned 33rd was in Dubai at all, they were supposed to have flown out of Al Udeid Air Base, but there had been a terrorist attack in Qatar that week, and it had been decided at the last minute that they would be diverted to Dubai. An accident, some said, until the storms hit. Then Dubai's citizens, the ones who did not have the privilege of being the first to leave, the ones who weren't insulated by wealth and power, said otherwise. The citizens of Dubai said that it was providence, a miracle from their respective deities, that brought the 33rd to Dubai.

Konrad recalled reading the classified message from the Pentagon. On orders from the Administration, still reeling from various foreign policy disasters, the 33rd Battalion was to assist evacuating all American citizens from Dubai and then was ordered to leave. The communique stated in very explicit language what would happen if the last part of the order was not obeyed. It only took an hour consulting with his senior command staff to come to an accord, for they had all felt the same way he did. They, like Konrad, felt that it was morally wrong to leave when they knew that the Emir and his cabinet was going to do nothing to help. And Konrad remembered, not without humor, the single word response he sent back to the Pentagon. The colonel dismissed his thoughts and addressed his men.

"Gentlemen, I don't need to remind you of the events that have led us here, to this moment. We've all had demons that we've left behind in our old life, and for a while, it seemed as if we would know peace. Now, once again, we're asked to fight someone else's battle. Once again we're asked to fight in some bizarre world so far from our own, to fight against a fanatical enemy that wants nothing less than complete annihilation this country and everything in it."

He looked down at the livery collar that was sitting in its box next to the small wooden display case that held his ribbons and medals.

"I don't know about you, gentlemen, but I'm not about to let that happen. It's true, the deck is stacked against us, and we face incredible odds, but this is nothing new to us. The 33rd Battalion has never been one to take the easy path. As your commander I know you will prevail, we can win this, and we will win this. This time, we will be the heroes. Therefore, this is the only order I give; I want you to give it your all, I want you to hold the line and I want you to make sure that every Reconquista soldier quiver in his boots at the mere mention of the 'Damned 33rd'. Let's send those Reconquista bastards broken and battered back to Albion!"

Saito sat spellbound listening to the colonel speak. Back in Tokyo he had only read about the commander of the legendary 'Damned 33rd', and he had heard people compare Konrad to everyone from George Washington to George Patton, but he had never understood. Now, as he heard Konrad give his rousing speech, he knew why over a thousand soldiers would defy orders to remain behind in Dubai to face an uncertain fate.

When Konrad finished Saito found himself standing out of his chair and cheering with the rest of the soldiers. He even noticed Lugo was hooting with the rest.

As the men continued to cheer Konrad turned to Sgt. Crosby.

"Well sergeant, do you think that satisfied the men?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked back to the cheering soldiers and smiled.

"I think so, sir."

Konrad smiled and checked his watch. It was almost dawn.

"Lieutenant Gordon!"

The young officer stood at attention.

"Sir!"

"Lieutenant, how's the muster coming?"

"Sir, I've mustered over a hundred commoners and civvies to put on earthworks detail. They're assembled outside the palace."

The colonel nodded.

"Then go RV with them and take them to the northern gates of the city and put them to work."

Gordon saluted and turned to go.

"And Lieutenant?"

"Sir?"

"The clock is ticking, so don't be afraid to pick up a pickaxe yourself."

The lieutenant grinned and left the barracks. Konrad turned back to Crosby.

"Any word from Lt. Bowles, sergeant?"

Crosby nodded.

"I got a radio communication from him about an hour ago; he was en route to the academy and had Darden in tow to help fly Ghostrider back."

He chuckled.

"Apparently the Radioman has the same experience flying airplanes that I do. Bowles said estimated ETA was noon."

The colonel smiled.

"Well those old C130 airframes aren't exactly rocket science to fly. Hell, in a pinch even I could fly one. Almost did too, back in Operation Just Cause."

He turned to see McPherson approach. The lieutenant saluted.

"Sir, the Royal Tristainian Army is mustered in the main courtyard. The princess is already there, sir."

McPherson noticed something odd in the way his CO returned the salute. Crosby had mentioned that the princess hadn't taken the news well, and was still curious what she had said to make the colonel so flustered. He dismissed the thoughts as Konrad spoke.

"Alright Lieutenant, lead the way."

* * *

><p>It was an odd sight that greeted Konrad and his entourage as they approached the balcony that overlooked the main courtyard of the palace.<p>

There stood assembled in the courtyard in rough rows stood the entire Royal Tristainian army. There were palace guards in their colorful livery and wielding their Henri Martini rifles topped with bayonets alongside Royal Sharpshooter Guards. There were commoners wearing improvised flak armor standing alongside mages. It was an impressive sight, except for one thing.

"Too few."

Konrad murmured. He turned to McPherson.

"What's the numbers, lieutenant?"

"Between the standing army and the Royal Sharpshooters, about 400, sir. And another 400 commoners that can fire a weapon and shoot straight."

Konrad noticed off to the side some griffons. He gestured towards the rather foppishly dressed musketeer lookalikes standing next to their steeds.

"And the Griffon Guards?"

"Around 50, sir."

McPherson smiled thinly.

"Unsurprisingly, Sir Thibault voiced his objections to fighting alongside commoners, sir."

Konrad shook his head.

"We're facing certain and imminent destruction and there are people with their heads up their asses and their priorities skewed. Sounds familiar."

McPherson's smile spread into a grin.

"Sounds like home, sir."

"Lord General Konrad, it is good to see you again."

The colonel turned around and saw that the princess had arrived. Princess Henrietta was clad in her royal gown with elbow-length gloves, her scepter and tiara, looking every bit the confident monarch. Her bodyguard Agnès was there as well, looking suitably chastised. Both Konrad and his subordinate stood at attention.

"Princess Henrietta, we've mustered the entire Royal Tristainian army, ready for your inspection."

She smiled and turned to introduce a third figure.

"Lord General, you remember General du Poitiers?"

Konrad nodded.

"Good to see you again, sir."

The noble looked over Konrad's battle fatigues and raised an eyebrow.

"Your raiment does not suit your office, Lord Konrad."

The colonel smiled.

"With all due respect, sir, battles in my world have no place for ermine capes and satin cravats."

Du Poitiers looked aghast.

"Do you mean to tell me that you're going to be fighting? Alongside those commoners?"

Konrad shrugged.

"If the situation calls for it, yes, I will be there right in the thick of it. A leader has to lead from the front, not lead from behind where it's safe."

Princess Henrietta stepped forward.

"Then I will lead."

Both Konrad and the noble turned to face the princess, both with shocked looks on their faces, both said the same thing at the same time.

"What?!"

Konrad spoke first.

"Your Highness, that is unwise. War is a dangerous thing, and we don't know what the Reconquista has up its sleeve."

Henrietta shook her head, although smiling as she did.

"Lord General John Konrad, you inspire your men to accomplish great things, and the reason is because you are right there with them."

She lowered her head.

"I-I need to do this, to inspire that same fervor in my own people."

Konrad shook his head.

"Your Higness, with all due respect, the front lines is no place for a princess."

She covered her mouth with one of her gloved hands and giggled lightly.

"Why is it with you and any soldiers from your world, whenever you say 'with all due respect' what you really mean is 'you're full of it'?"

She looked back up at Konrad, her eyes shimmering.

"And as my chief military advisor and leader of my armed forces, you will be by my side, so you will protect me."

When Konrad was about to voice another objection she spoke again.

"And remember, as Lord General you are my subject and as such have to obey the orders of your monarch."

The colonel smiled, in spite of the ridiculousness of the situation.

"I can see that I'm not going to win this battle, so a tactical retreat is in order."

He turned back to du Poitiers.

"General, would you mind escort the princess down to the courtyard so she can inspect the troops?"

The noble nodded, and followed Henrietta down the steps that lead from the balcony to the courtyard. Konrad leaned against the rail and watched as Henrietta marveled at the steel helmets worn by the troops. One of the last things that Konrad and his blacksmithing artisans produced for the war effort were helms modeled after the old M1 'steel pot' helmet, and flack armor that was comprised of a canvas and silk vest inlaid with thin strips of steel. Like its real world counterpart the vest also had a pouch in the front and back where a thick steel plate could be inserted. It wouldn't stop a real bullet, but in testing it repelled longbow arrows and even musket balls from a distance. Konrad's musings were interrupted by McPherson speaking.

"Colonel, sir? You're not seriously going to let the princess be on the front lines, are you? I mean, she's just a kid."

Konrad continued to watch the princess.

"She's also the monarch, lieutenant, so we don't have much of a choice."

He looked at McPherson directly.

"But to answer your question, no, I have no intention of putting the princess in harm's way."

The lieutenant shook his head.

"That's going to be a tough sell, since she's pretty hellbent for leather on doing this to prove herself as a leader."

Konrad noticed that Henrietta was looking up and waving at him. He smiled and waved back.

"It will be tricky and might require a tough decision, but I think I know how accomplish that task, lieutenant."

_(AN: Uh-oh, what does the colonel have up his sleeve? Well, read on and find out! Next chapter should be up by the weekend, depending on my schedule. A word of warning is that next month starting in mid September is our conference season, so chapters might get a bit sporadic at that point. I will post updates when we get to that point. Until then!)_


	76. Unfriendly Fire

_(AN: So I'm doing a bit of a flash-forward, since I'm a bit impatient to start this war LOL. Hope you guys enjoy.)_

"Covering fire!"

Crosby moved from cover and unleashed a burst from his P90, sending the group of Reconquista Musketeers scrambling for cover. He wasn't sure, but he thought that he tagged at least one of them. He looked over to a large tree trunk in the forest, where Lugo was shepherding his precious cargo to cover. His thoughts were interrupted by a musket ball that hit his shoulder. His armor deflected it, but it still hurt.

"Dammit Lugo, move your ass! I'm taking heavy fire here!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant raised his submachine gun and fired another controlled burst. This time his shots connected; several of the Musketeers fell. He allowed himself a satisfied smile, since the people in Helkeginia weren't accustomed to accurate rapid-fire weapons, the Musketeers clumped together in bunches of five or more. It made sense, since their weapons were single shot and their best hope to inflict the most damage was to fire in volleys close together. It also made them a fatter target. The Zulu Squad sergeant saw another stand up from cover, and he fired a single shot. The Musketeer crumpled to the ground clutching his face. Hopefully that was the bastard who shot him, Crosby thought to himself.

A roar above them tore Crosby's attention away. He saw several shapes swooping down from the sky, weaving between the trees in the forest. Crosby crouched behind the boulder he was using for cover and unslung his grenade launcher.

"Dragon Riders inbound! Brace for suppressing fire!"

He stepped out of cover again and fired three shots. One lucky shot hit a dragon square in the chest, obliterating both dragon and rider in an red explosion of bone and gore. The other two rocket propelled grenades detonated on trees, but their explosions sent scores of sharpened wood fragments through the air and cut through the dragon's sensitive wings, sending it and the rider spiraling to their doom.

Crosby held his weapon on the ready, scanning the treeline and the sky for any more enemies. The other dragon riders apparently retreated, and there was silence. Finally he signaled in his radio.

"All clear."

The Zulu Squad sergeant secured his weapon and turned back to where Lugo was. As he rounded the stump end of the large tree that served as cover he observed the ensuing scene and sighed.

Lugo was there, and clamped onto his waist was a young girl with large blue eyes and short black hair. Behind her were seven other children, ranging in ages from their early teens to toddlers. All were looking up at Crosby with a mix of awe and trepidation.

"Lugo, a word?"

The Delta sniper nodded and very gently pulled Siesta off of him. As he stood up she grabbed his sleeve.

"Please, please don't leave us here, John!"

Lugo gave the maid a reassuring smile.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. Sergeant Crosby and I need to discuss our next move."

He pointed to the boulder where Crosby had taken cover.

"We'll be right over there, so you can see us, right?"

Siesta blinked some of the tears out of her large eyes and nodded. Lugo hesitated for a moment, but then felt the Zulu Squad sergeant's hand on his shoulder, and turned to follow.

"This is insane, Lugo. We're at least twenty klicks behind enemy lines, we've got over 50 Reconquista scouts that are scouring this forest looking for us, we've got no backup, our extraction's gone, and we've got eight kids in tow."

Lugo tried to shrug it off with one of his trademarked grins.

"C'mon sarge, try to think positive."

Crosby glared at him.

"Positive? Alright, sergeant, I'll tell you the best case scenario. Let's say we're able, by some miracle, to get back to Tristainia before the rest of the Reconquista invasion fleet arrives. The colonel's going to have our asses for this. We've both disobeyed a direct order and went AWOL."

He shook his head.

"I must be getting soft. I have no idea how I got talked into this mess."

Lugo looked directly at the older soldier.

"It took me exactly thirty seconds to convince you, Sarge. Right after I told you that Siesta was missing and that Tarpes was being razed by Reconquista scouts."

Crosby looked over to where Siesta was hiding with her seven siblings. In spite of all situation going all to FUBAR and back, he still had to suppress a smile at the sight of the maid wearing a Japanese schoolgirl outfit. He sighed and recalled that it had been a long day, starting with interrogating the prisoner, and ending with this.

* * *

><p><strong>(Nine hours earlier, T-24 hours before R-Hour)<strong>

It was almost noon, and the shadow of both Helkeginia's moons were already showing as the sun hit its peak. Both Konrad and Crosby stood on one of the parapets of the massive wall that encircled Tristainia. Below, hundreds of menials and commoners were digging trenches, filling sandbags and stretching razor wire. The Zulu Squad sergeant turned to his CO.

"Are you sure they'll attack from this front, sir?"

Konrad nodded.

"The front gates are the most logical place to attack, since Tristainia is hedged in by mountains to the east and a massive forest to the west and south."

He gestured to the open plain in front of him.

"This area would serve as his staging area where he can land his airships and deploy his troops."

He smiled thinly.

"Besides, I know our enemy, through his writings and reports that Darden and Gordon supplied us. This Oliver Cromwell is a fellow who likes a flair for the dramatic; he thinks he's facing an outnumbered army, so he wants to make a grand entrance."

He looked over to the parapets on the east and west corner of the city walls. There were massive barreled gun carriages installed on each parapet, each with its own crew to load and fire.

"I'm hoping our anti-aircraft guns will put a sizeable dent in his army, because they've never faced such firepower before."

The colonel looked down and saw several bunkers reinforced with sandbags. Poking through a small loopholes in the sandbags were their Gatling gun prototypes.

"We haven't had much time to test them, but if Cromwell masses his armies to storm the gates, those Gatling guns should make short work of them."

Crosby smiled.

"Well, it sounds like we have everything under control, sir. All we need to do is kick back, drink a few beers and wait for the Reconquista to get slaughtered."

Konrad shook his head.

"Yes, we're prepared sergeant. But you know as well as I that no plan survives first contact."

His face darkened and Crosby saw a haunted look in Konrad's eyes.

"If you recall, sergeant, we thought ourselves crazy prepared when we…when I, attempted that evacuation of Dubai, and look what happened there."

He shook his head and massaged his temples. Some servants approached the soldiers with trays bearing goblets of water. Crosby accepted one, and Konrad waved the servant away. The sergeant took a sip of the cold water, and spoke up again.

"On another subject, sir, just how do you intend to keep Princess Henrietta off the front lines?"

Konrad looked over to his subordinate. Crosby shrugged sheepishly.

"McPherson told me, sir. As far as I know, none of the other men know."

The colonel nodded, and a thoughtful expression crossed his face.

"So how are you going to do it, sir?"

"It's really quite simple, sergeant. I intend to marry her."

The water that was originally halfway down Crosby's throat exited through his mouth and nose as he did a spit take.

"What?!"

Konrad smiled again, although this time it had some humor in it.

"Now sergeant, half of my men have paired off with the local females, surely you knew it was only a matter of time before your commander would jump in as well?"

He looked over at the dumbfounded expression on the sergeant's face.

"Relax, sergeant, it's nothing like that. Political marriages happen in Helkeginia all the time, as I recall she was slated to be married off to Prince Albert of Germania. He's twice her age."

Crosby grinned.

"And you're three times her age, sir."

Konrad chuckled.

"As I said, sergeant, this is strictly a political maneuver."

He glanced over to the palace in the distance.

"The hard part will be convincing her of it."

The colonel looked back up to Crosby and saw the sly look on the sergeant's face.

"What is it, Crosby?"

"Sir, I know."

Konrad cocked his head to one side.

"You know what, sergeant? Please enlighten me."

The sergeant shrugged.

"Sir, with all due respect, the men know that the princess has been giving you goo-goo eyes since you arrived here."

Konrad chuckled again.

"Ah yes, so you noticed the shimmering eyes too?"

Crosby smiled.

"It is these local gal's most powerful weapon, sir. Trust me, I've been on the receiving end of it as well."

Konrad nodded.

"Well, it means that the princess won't need much convincing. And we'll stall any formal announcements until after this war is over."

"And then, sir?"

Konard looked back over the earthworks and razorwire.

"Well sergeant, assuming we all survive this, I'll burn that bridge when we get there."

Their conversation was interrupted by a droning noise and both the colonel and the sergeant looked up.

Leaving air cover was a large grey four-engined aircraft, it's port side bristling with guns. Following behind from a safe distance was a battered AH-J Little Bird carrying some sort of large object that his eyes couldn't make out. Crosby also noticed a small blue shape following in its wake. He heard Konrad speak up over the din.

"Well, it would appear as if Bravo Six is back with Ghostrider, let's go meet them, shall we?"

* * *

><p><strong>(The main courtyard of Tristainia Palace)<strong>

Crosby walked past two palace servants who were rooted to the spot staring as the AC-130 landed. He casually grabbed two apples, pocketing one and munching on the other as he watched the giant aircraft taxi to a stop and rotate with barely enough room for the tips of its wings to miss brushing against the palace walls.

"Luckily for us this courtyard is so big, although I doubt this shit could happen in the real world."

He said to himself, and looked up to see Bravo Six hovering with its cargo. As it turned out it was the fuel truck they found in the desert, except there was some sort of contraption welded to the top. The `Bird slowly lowered it to the ground, and when the tires touched the grass and the straps came free, Bravo Six banked sharply over to its improvised landing pad. He also saw a familiar looking blue dragon land with two passengers on its back. One of them, a tall, busty girl with bright red hair jumped off the dragon's back and made a beeline straight for Crosby. And was stopped by Crosby's palm.

"Sorry Kirche, you're going to have to get up a lot earlier in the morning if you're going to glomp me. Better luck with Specialist Saito."

The redhead quickly recovered and looked over to where the Tokyo teen was drilling some commoners with their shotguns. She covered her mouth and laughed.

"Ah! So the Zero's familiar is now a warhorse as well!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled as he watched the familiar sight of Kirche rushing Saito and wedging him in her marshmallow hell. Deciding not to stick around for the pink-haired walking IED and the inevitable blowup, he turned to get a better look at the fuel truck. There was some sort of armored weapons platform welded to the roof of the cab, it looked like it could swivel like a turret. There was a long-snouted gun barrel with a hose attached to it. His musings were interrupted by someone clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yep, that crazy mad scientist Colbert came up with a version of Greek fire, pretty rad, eh sarge?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant turned around to see Darden standing beside him. The Radioman caught the look Crosby was giving him and backed off with his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Hey, hey, easy there, sarge. I told ya I was being a good boy."

The recollection of the Radioman being turned into a pony by the Weaver of Fate brought a slight smile to Crosby's face.

"So, what's the word on the Reconquista, sarge?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged.

"Rumor has it they'll be making landfall sometime this evening. They'll probably attack the city of Tristiania tomorrow."

Darden sobered at for a moment, but then his characteristic grin came back.

"Well, that'll make good target practice for our new toys, eh sarge?"

Crosby shrugged.

"That's the idea, anyways."

He looked over to see where Tabitha had landed her dragon familiar, and also saw more students from the Academy milling about the courtyard, staring at the AC-130 gunship and the Little Bird. Most of the students were just faces that Crosby remembered seeing from the first few days when he arrived in this bizarre world of magic and familiars, but he immediately recognized a foppish blonde boy and his girlfriend.

"Guiche and Montmorency are here?"

Darden shrugged.

"More like half the Tristain Academy is here, sarge. Apparently Alex's girlfriend Agnès showed up when we were retrieving Ghostrider, saying that classes were suspended and any able-bodied mages were asked to volunteer for the war effort."

That caught Crosby's attention.

"What?!"

The Radioman looked surprised.

"I thought you knew already, the princess gave that order yesterday."

"I have a hard time believing the colonel would sit still for that."

Darden shrugged.

"Apparently."

He nodded over at a figure walking across the courtyard wearing battle ACU's and a purple-haired girl following him.

"Of course if ya don't believe me you can ask him yourself."

* * *

><p>Konrad looked up from Sgt. Lugo's latest report on mustering and arming the civilian population of Tristainia to see Crosby approaching him. The Zulu squad sergeant saluted and stood at attention. Konrad handed the report off to McPherson and returned the salute.<p>

"Sergeant."

Crosby relaxed visibly.

"Sir, could I have a word?"

Konrad smiled.

"Well, since Bravo Six returned safely with not only Ghostrider but another secret weapon concocted up by Professor Colbert, I assume this has something to do with our other new arrivals."

The sergeant nodded.

"Yes, sir."

The colonel turned to McPherson.

"Lieutenant, would you mind escorting the princess to inspect Ghostrider?"

McPherson saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

The lieutenant offered his elbow to Princess Henrietta.

"Ma'am, if you'll follow me?"

She smiled and let out a light giggle.

"It's alright, you can call me Henrietta, too."

Konrad watched as the lieutenant led the princess away from them, and then turned back to Crosby.

"Sergeant, I know what you're about to say, so I'll save you the wasted oxygen. Yes, I am aware of the princess's royal decree that any able-bodied mages were encouraged to join the war effort, even the students."

The colonel sighed as he watched Guiche brag to some rotund student, the blonde fop's voice carried and he could hear him bragging about his adventures in Albion.

"And no, I don't like it anymore than you do, but we're so short-handed that I've taken to distributing the remaining firearms we've manufactured to the civilian population of Tristainia."

"But sir, they're just kids."

Konrad's gaze shifted from the students back to his subordinate.

"Don't you think I know that, sergeant? This isn't the first difficult decision I've had to make, not even the first hard choice I've had to make here in Helkeginia. The point is, if we fail, and Tristainia falls, then nowhere will be safe, not even the Academy."  
>He shook his head.<p>

"Sergeant, I have to go and see how Gordon is coming with the earthworks, but since you're here I want you to relay a message to the men."

"Of course sir, what are your orders?"

Konrad cleared his throat.

"As of now, the city of Tristainia is considered under siege, and we are officially in lockdown. Nobody leaves the safety of the city walls, and no soldier under my command is to desert his post. We're too few as it is, we don't need anybody getting cold feet. Understood?"

Crosby saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Later that evening)<strong>

Sgt. John Lugo bolted past two Royal Sharpshooter Guards, almost bowling them over. He had to get to Crosby, and quickly. He skidded past a doorway that led to the palace ballroom that served as the 33rd's barracks, and paused, out of breathe. Sure enough, there was Crosby sitting at his cot, cleaning his P90. The Zulu Squad sergeant looked up.

"What's the matter, Lugo?"

When he noticed how heavily the Delta sniper was breathing, he stood up from his cot.

"Easy does it, soldier. Take a few deep breathes, and let your pulse get under 200. Now what's the major malfunction?"

Lugo swallowed to get some moisture in his dry throat so he could speak.

"Siesta," he rasped, "She's MIA."

Crosby's eyes widened.

"What?!"

The Delta sniper nodded.

"Siesta's gone, she left because she got word that the Reconquista has made landfall, and a scouting contingent were overrunning Tarpes."

The older sergeant sat down.

"Her hometown, it's going to be a bloodbath."

He looked back up to Lugo.

"But we can't do anything, sergeant. We have to stay put. Colonel's orders."

Lugo dropped down beside Crosby.

"Look, sarge you know what's going to happen to the town. I'm not asking to go all one man army and save Tarpes, I'm asking you to help me find Siesta, before she gets there."

He saw the look of doubt in Crosby's eyes and pressed on.

"Look, I've talked to Tabitha, and she's agreed to lend us Sylphid to find Siesta. If we hurry we can catch her before she reaches Tarpes, we can be there and back in an hour, tops."

The sniper's heart sank as he saw Crosby slowly shake his head.

"Look, sergeant, I feel your pain, but orders are orders. I can't let you go, and that's final."

_(AN: Hahah, yeah right Crosby, we've heard that tune before. So I feel terrible about stopping here, but this chapter's gotten to be so big that I had to break it off somewhere. Props to Trainalf for helping beta the battle sequence at the beginning of the chapter. Second half of the chapter should be up by end of the week. Until then!)_


	77. Unfriendly Fire, Part Deux

_(AN: Ok, so this really should have been in the last chapter, but I was really getting lazy. At some point after we get a couple of chapters ahead I might just merge this with the previous chapter and call it good, since it's so short. But now we find out what happens next!)_

Crosby knew he was getting soft. If he had been faced with the same choice in Dubai he knew he would have followed orders unhesitatingly, because he had to. Back in Dubai you had to follow orders without question, even if that mean something bad happened, because it prevented a greater evil. He had done terrible things under the guise of just following orders, so he knew.

He shook his head, he had been so long in this bizarre world of emotional females with technicolored hair and large eyes for so long that Dubai was becoming a fading memory. There had been a time when he would have given anything to forget. His melancholic musings were interrupted by what sounded like a large cat purring. Crosby looked up and saw the blue dragon staring at him intently. Specifically Sylphid was staring at his bellows pocket. Then the Zulu Squad sergeant remembered what he put there. He reached in and pulled out an apple. Immediately the familiar's blue eyes locked onto it, and Crosby tossed it in the air towards her. Sylphid caught the apple in her jaws and crunched on it, clearly enjoying the snack.

"I guess she's a big eater even in dragon form."

Lugo said, and enjoyed watching the blue dragon purr and nuzzle the older soldier. Crosby gently pushed Sylphid's head away.

"Alright, that's enough. And no, I don't have any more apples, but I'll get you a bushel of them when we get back, okay?"

The familiar of Tabitha perked up at that and licked him.

Lugo put a reassuring hand on the Zulu Squad sergeant's shoulder.

"Hey look, sarge, this is a cinch. We're less than an hour from Tarpes, so we'll sail in under the radar, pick up Siesta and her family, and be back here in an hour. Two hours from now you and I will be knocking back some ale and celebrating…"

* * *

><p><strong>(Half an hour later, in a forest adjacent to Tarpes)<strong>

"Lugo, sound off!"

"Ow."

Crosby looked up in the sky. Sylphid was nowhere to be found, in fairness he couldn't blame her. They were almost to Tarpes when suddenly musketfire rang out. The Reconquista had scouts hiding in clearing adjacent to a forest, and were apparently armed with muskets. One clipped Sylphid's wing, and she did a barrel roll to avoid more fire. Unfortunately both her passengers were unprepared for the evasive maneuver and fell off her back. Crosby had fallen on a relatively soft patch of heather, and a quick check confirmed he had no broken bones. His P90 and grenade launcher were a stone's throw away, he picked both up and worked the action of his submachine gun to clear any dirt that might have gotten in. He looked over to where Lugo had fallen.

The Delta sniper was on his back, shaking his head.

"Lugo, you okay?"

He looked up.

"I said, 'Ow' didn't I, sarge?"

Lugo looked back down to his TAR-21.

"Looks like my gun's out of commission. I swear this one's in love with mud, or else mud is attracted to it."

He pulled himself up with a helping hand from Crosby.

"Did you bring Betsy?"

The sniper shook his head.

"Negative, I've my M9 with a spare mag, a sticky grenade and a smoke grenade."

Crosby shrugged.

"Let's hope that'll be enough."

Lugo ran a gloved hand through his hair, and stopped, patting his head.

"Oh crap, my hat!"

Lugo saw the flat look the older soldier was giving him.

"Come on sarge, that was my lucky hat!"

Crosby shook his head.

"Considering what an epic clusterfuck you and Walker caused in Dubai, not to mention the deep shit we're in now, I'd say good riddance. You need a new lucky hat."

The Zulu Squad sergeant stopped his rant because light had caught his eyes. Off to the north, approximately where the town should have been, there was a red and orange glow, like magma. He heard Lugo panic.

"Shit! Crosby, the Reconquista's burning Tarpes!"

Then the wind shifted, bringing with it the stench of burning timber and burnt flesh, and the screams. Crosby heard the cries of women pleading for their lives and dignity, the screams of men dying, the sound of despair.

He was brought out of his stunned reverie by the sound of Lugo shouting Siesta's name. He spoke up.

"Lugo, keep it down, there might be scouts close by."

But the Delta sniper didn't comply, instead the older soldier saw him start to run towards the glowing fire. He grabbed Lugo's shoulder.

"Don't."

Lugo tried to unsuccessfully shrug off Crosby's grip.

"Siesta might still be out there!"

Crosby shook his head.

"If Siesta's still in Tarpes, then she's already dead. We need to stay out of sight, and check for survivors."

He looked over at the forest.

"If I were fleeing that would make a good hiding place. Let's go."

He paused, seeing Lugo still staring at the burning village.

"It's not just Siesta, sarge. There were people in Tarpes, there was a baker dude who had some French name who made a mean baguette bread when I was there with Siesta. And now they're all dead."

Crosby was about to speak when something caught his eye. It was movement, a shadow. He pulled Lugo down, giving him the universal 'unknown contact' signal, and slowly crept forward. As he approached the thicket he could make out a shape, whatever it was, it wasn't very tall. He pushed aside some underbrush and froze.

There was a little girl, about seven years old, with a smudged face. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him in fear, and she took a step back. Crosby remembered that he still had his goggles and balaclava on, and he slowly lowered his weapon and removed his face coverings. That caused the little girl to relax, a bit. He then noticed that she was holding something. Upon closer inspection, it was a baseball cap with the word's 'Life's a Beach' embroidered on it.

Crosby looked back.

"Hey Lugo! Good news, I found your hat."

The little girl perked up at Lugo's name, and she spoke in a soft, shy voice.

"Mr. Lugo is here?"

Crosby turned to see Lugo approaching, his own face was one of disbelief.

"Georgette? What are you doing out here?"

The little girl immediately ran to Lugo and hugged his leg. Comprehension dawned on Crosby.

"That's one of Siesta's siblings."

Lugo gave the girl a reassuring pat on the head, and nodded. Georgette looked up to him, her wide blue eyes shimmering with tears. She offered the Delta sniper his ballcap. He accepted it and crouched down to her level.

"Where are the rest of your siblings, Georgette?"

She blinked away some of her tears and pointed to the forest.

"Siesta had me gathering firewood, and I found your hat, I knew you must be close by."

The older soldier in black and white armor gently pulled her to her feet.

"Can you take us to Siesta, kid?"

* * *

><p>Crosby looked back and couldn't help but smile. The little girl led him and the Delta sniper back to a hiding place in the woods, and sure enough there was Siesta and the rest of her brothers and sisters. He remembered the epic glomp that Siesta gave Lugo, and and the hug she gave him as well. Now the two soldiers were tasked with leading eight children out of the forest and to safety. With the little maid firmly clamped to Lugo's waist. Crosby's amused musings were interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping and brought his weapon to bear.<p>

"Lugo, I hate cockblocking you but we've got company, get back on the clock."

The sniper disengaged from his young bride and unholstered his M9. There were shadows in the mist, at least twenty shapes. They congealed into sinister men wearing black and gold musketeer outfits appeared in the gloom. One of them shouted out.

"There's the little tramp with her gaggle of brats! Get them!"

Both Crosby and Lugo raised their respective weapons and fired. Lugo's double-tap from his M9 took down the speaker, Crosby's burst fire took out several. Both high-velocity rounds tore through clothing and the thin metal breastplates they were wearing with terrifying ease.

One of the surviving musketeers took a step back.

"It's the Outworlders! We're no match for their weapons!"

One of the others spoke up as well.

"Quickly, we must warn the commander! Cromwell will want to know of this!"

Another stopped the others from running.

"Fools! Don't you know there is a 10,000 sovereign bounty for an Outworlder that is collected alive? Do you want to fight the rest of the scouting contingent for that reward!"

He drew his own flintlock pistol and pointed it at Crosby.

"Surrender, Outworlder, or you will be killed!"

And then he fell, a 5.7 x 28mm bullet lodged in his skull. Crosby took a step forward, his P90 smoking.

"This is your only warning, gentlemen. Flee with your lives or die here, but you're not getting us alive, and you're not getting those kids."

The surviving Reconquista musketeers quickly formed up preparing to volley fire. Crosby turned back to Lugo.

"Get the kids to safety, I'll cover your retreat!"

* * *

><p>"…took me exactly thirty seconds to convince you, Sarge. Right after I told you that Siesta was missing and that Tarpes was being razed by Reconquista scouts."<p>

Crosby looked over to their precious cargo, and then back to Lugo. He shook his head.

"Okay, sergeant. I need you to stay with Siesta and the kids."

He unslung his grenade launcher.

"Take this, but try not to use it unless absolutely necessary, the explosions will give away your poz."

He pulled his backup M9 out of the holster on his assault vest and dropped the magazine, handing it and the grenade launcher to Lugo as well.

"There's a spare, in case you run out."

Lugo looked at the weapons that Crosby gave him.

"What about you, sarge?"

Crosby jerked his thumb over to the clearing.

"I'm going to try and steer the baddies away from you, sergeant. When you're in the clear, I need you to make your way back to Tristainia, by cart, horse, foot, whatever. Just get there before dawn."

It took Lugo a full ten seconds to realize what the Zulu Squad sergeant was planning to do.

"That's suicide! You can't take on an entire Reconquista army by yourself!"

Crosby smiled and patted his P90.

"I don't know, I have a bottomless magazine in my gun, so I'm pretty sure I can knock at least half of them out."

His smile faded and his face became stern.

"You just get Siesta and her family to safety and don't get yourself killed, got it? The 33rd and the Royal Tristainian Army might lose a soldier tonight, they don't need to lose two."

Suddenly both Lugo's and Crosby's radio crackled to life.

_"__To the US military IFF transponder Romeo Foxtrot ID Eight Six Seven Fife Tree Zero Niner, this is Bravo Six, do you copy?"_

Crosby grinned.

"Bravo Six this is Iceman, I authenticate IFF ID Romeo Foxtrot, Romeo Charlie Four, Zero, Fife, Two. If I may say, it's fucking good to hear your voice, sir."

_"__Roger that, sarge. We are inbound to Tarpes and picked up your IFF signal so I knew you were close by. I'm picking up beaucoup hostiles in the open, but I can't get eyes on you. What is your poz?"_

"Bravo Six, be advised in addition to myself and Lugo, there are eight civies, including small children. We are currently in cover behind a large felled tree trunk on the western edge of the forest."

_"Roger that, Iceman, can you pop smoke to confirm poz?"_

Crosby looked over to Lugo and nodded; he pulled the pin on his smoke grenade and lobbed it over the trunk.

"Bravo Six, do you see smoke?"

_"Roger that, sarge, I see smoke and have eyes on friendlies. Keep your heads down, we'll be coming in hot. I'll give the all clear when the hostile threat is neutralized."_

Bowles switched channels on his radio.

"Radioman, this is Bravo Six, be ready, psy-war ops Operation Valkyrie is in effect."

The familiar voice spoke up through the static.

_"Heh-Heh, r__oger that Bravo Six, switching to portable on Romeo Foxtrot IFF Shall We Dance?"_

The Reconquista musketeers were slowly approaching where the two Outworlders were hiding. The fools had given themselves up when one of them threw a smoke bomb that spewed out blue smoke. Then, a voice boomed down at them from the sky.

_"__Ah-ah-ah! You naughty little Reconquista bastards shouldn't have burned down Tarpes! At this rate you ain't getting' anything in your stockings for Christmas, heh-heh, assuming any of you guys live that long, that is! Now for a little music while my magic airship cuts you to pieces. Feel free to sing along!"_

Crosby shook his head at the sound of the Radioman, wondering how he jerry-rigged speakers to Bravo Six. But he wasn't complaining, between hearing the dreaded Jester's voice, the blaring of Ride of the Valkyries, and the minigun fire the Reconquista musketeers were no longer interested in Crosby and co. They had much bigger worries. He looked over to Lugo, who was trying to calm down all of Siesta's younger siblings who were frightened by the noise.

"I guess that's twice Bravo Six has saved our asses."

_(AN: I'm not very happy with this chapter, to be honest. it's too clunky and in hindsight I shouldn't have done that flash-forward, because this chapter is the result of trying to buttress the two of them. Anyways, next chapter should be up soon, and we're getting closer and closer to that Rated M for Manly first big battle, so stay tuned!)_


	78. Article 15

_(AN: And now that Bravo Six has had its Big Damn Heroes moment, now we get to deal with the repercussions of Lugo and Crosby's actions. And I felt bad for not including some awesome firepower in the last chapter, so I'm adding a bit here. Hope you enjoy!)_

Bowles peered through the windscreen of his `Bird. It was dark, but through his NVG's the entire world he saw was bathed in bright green light. Heat, in the form of warm bodies, showed up white in stark contrast to the green ground and trees. He saw that the Reconquista musketeers were fleeing. A wise decision on their part, given that in the brief fifteen minute engagement they had suffered over twenty casualties and nothing to show for it. After they got over their first shock of hearing 'Ride of the Valkyries' for the first time some of them were foolish enough to try and shoot at Bravo Six, to no avail. Briefly he wondered how it looked on the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>(13 minutes earlier)<strong>

Lord Thomas Fairfax watch on in horror as the Jester's airship spat fire. He had heard from one of Lord Humphrey's lieutenants about the metal airship that spirited away the Jester, but never in his wildest dreams did he think that the thing could deal the sort of death that unfolded in front of him. First, there was the Jester taunting them, then he heard some sort of music, oddly enough. Then there was a sound like silk tearing, and the ground erupted around his men as they were cut to pieces. Armor, flesh, muscle and bone were rent asunder by this airship's terrible weapons. Then he saw another flash erupt from the airship, and eight of his men were blown apart in an explosion of fire and body parts.

"Retreat! Save all who can! We must flee!"

The few survivors needed no encouragement, and followed his lead.

* * *

><p>Bowles smiled and briefly thought about letting loose another burst from his starboard minigun pod at what looked like the leader, then thought the better of it. There was some movement at the edge of the forest that caught his eye, he saw a long figure emerge from cover waving his arms. Even from this distance Bowles could tell it was Lugo. Nobody else in Helkeginia had a ballcap. He spoke into his radio.<p>

"Iceman, this is Bravo Six, be advised hostile threat is neutralized. Stand by for extraction."

On the ride back Crosby looked over his shoulder in the copilot seat to see the crowded passenger compartment. Siesta was sitting next to her husband, and the rest of her seven siblings were huddled on the floor, all of them had their large eyes even wider with fright at their first flight in a AH-6 Little Bird.

"Thanks for the rescue, sir."

The pilot grinned.

_"__This makes twice I've disobeyed orders to save your bacon, sarge. Speaking of orders, you and loverboy are in some seriously deep shit for going AWOL. The Old Man barely let me leave except with the promise that I would bring you both back so he could kill you himself."_

He shook his head.

_"__I hope he was joking about that last bit."  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>(Earlier, at the palace)<strong>

Dinner was held in the Spring Garden, and was an informal if somewhat tense affair at the Tristainia royal palace. Everybody seemed to laugh too loud, every smile seemed forced, every sip of wine seemed exaggerated. Gordon watched the proceedings and shook his head. Both the Delta sniper and Sgt. Crosby were AWOL, and the Reconquista was on their doorstep, no wonder everyone seemed tense. Crosby had informed him via radio of his intentions, Gordon to his credit just told him that he was disobeying orders, but godspeed. He saw Konrad speaking with McPherson and Bowles, and judging by the look on the colonel's face he would hate to be either Lugo or Crosby right now. Gordon heard a distinctly feminine chortle, and looked over to the source. He saw the busty redhead named Kirche saying something to Saito and Louise. He couldn't tell what Big Red was telling her, but judging by the murderous look in the walking IED's face, it probably was some sort of crack at her A-cup angst. The lieutenant's thoughts were interrupted by one of the pages tapping his staff of office to proclaim royal entrance.

"Introducing her Royal Highness; Princess Henrietta!"

Gordon also noticed Konrad react and look towards the princess as she entered the garden. The colonel excused himself and made a beeline towards her. Gordon smiled. Crosby had told him earlier about what Konrad was planning to keep Henrietta off the front lines and away from danger. He, like Crosby, wasn't surprised because it wasn't any secret to any of the soldiers of the 33rd about the princess's intentions towards their CO. Doubtlessly the colonel was going to make his move and let the princess know of his intentions. Gordon watched as Konrad lead Henrietta off to a secluded spot, and he heard a voice off to his side.

"Guess the Old Man is going to pop the question, right Gordon?"

The lieutenant turned to see McPherson standing there smiling.

"Roger that, McPherson."

He saw his fellow officer grin.

"Speaking of popping, your bride has been missing you something fierce, you really should close the deal."

Gordon rolled his eyes.

"What the fuck, did Bowles put you up to this?"

The other officer shook his head.

"Negative, it's plain by the look in her eyes that she wants you, dude. I'm just saying."

McPherson paused for a moment.

"Okay, I lied, Bowles did put me up to it."

Gordon's snappy retort was interrupted by a very loud squeal of glee, which sounded female. All eyes locked onto the source, and were greeted by the sight of Princess Henrietta firmly latched onto Colonel Konrad's midsection. The colonel looked as shocked as his subordinates, and at the sudden scrutiny the princess blushed pink. McPherson spoke up.

"Welp, I guess this means the princess accepted his overtures."

* * *

><p>"I hope you both understand just how much shit you both are in! Absent without leave, deserting your post, disobeying a direct order from a commanding officer!"<p>

Konrad looked livid. In all his life serving in the Damned 33rd, Crosby had never seen his CO so mad. The colonel turned and glared at him, and the Zulu Squad sergeant never felt so small in his life.

"You risked your life and another's life for one civilian, that is unacceptable, sergeant! Hell your actions risked Bravo Six extracting you, what would have happened if he got shot down trying to rescue your sorry ass?"

The colonel continued.

"I expected better from you, sergeant. You were part of my senior command staff, you know the importance of orders and why they need to be followed."

Konrad made a sweeping gesture.

"In some ways, this is no different from Dubai; I have soldiers here stranded far from home, far from the chain of command, and that is a dangerous sitch to be in. That is when discipline has to be maintained. Our discipline is a machine, and our men are the cogs, and if they break down the machine breaks down."

He glared again at Crosby, whose eyes were downcast.

"Eyes up, sergeant! I want eye contact from you! I want you to tell me why that was so important, so important that you disobeyed orders?"

When the sergeant didn't respond Konrad sighed.

"Dammit Crosby the men look up to you, but if you, an 'elite', disregard orders then what message does that send to them?"

Konad shook his head.

"Back in Dubai I've had men shot and worse for this kind of insubordination."

"I know, sir. I was there."

Crosby finally spoke.

"No excuses for my disobeying orders, sir. I disobeyed orders to rescue someone I thought was worth the risk. But I don't condone my actions, sir. I will accept any punishment you deign to meet out."

Lugo broke in.

"Colonel, with all due respect, I saw what the 33rd did on your orders and in hindsight I knew that you did what you had to do. But this isn't Dubai, sir. And for what it's worth Crosby didn't want to come along, and he only did it when I told them what the Reconquista would do to Siesta and her siblings if they caught her."

He looked down.

"The point is, if we hadn't then there would be eight more bodies to go with the hundreds of casualties from the razing of Tarpes. I went because I wanted to rescue my wife, and if that mean disobeying orders then so be it. But I ask that you assign the brunt of the punishment to me."

He looked pointedly at the colonel.

"I should point out that both her parents were also massacred, sir."

Konrad was silent for a long time, looking at Sgt. Lugo. Finally he spoke, and his voice, already rasping from the chewout, seemed resigned.

"Sergeant Lugo I'm not going to pretend to know what was going through your mind when you found out your young bride had gone to Tarpes. Of course it's a good thing that you rescued her and her siblings. And for what it's worth I'm sorry for your loss."

He turned away from them to look at the map of Tristain, the area around Tarpes was colored in red.

"Sergeant Crosby, I'm hereby revoking your weekend leave passes for the next two weeks, and one half pay forfeiture for one month. Consider yourself lucky."

Konrad saw the older sergeant smile, and he turned to Lugo.

"Sergeant Lugo, you are confined to your quarters until the Call to Arms is sounded. Is that clear?"

Lugo grinned.

"Understood, sir. Considering I haven't had my 'honeymoon night' with Siesta, I was going to be confined to my quarters anyways."

Konrad returned his smile.

"Then get to it, sergeant."

Lugo saluted the colonel, and turned to leave. Crosby also saluted Konrad, but before he could leave the colonel stopped him.

"Sergeant Crosby."

He turned and stood at attention.

"Sir."

Konrad lowered his head.

"Crosby, you know why I was pissed, don't you?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant nodded.

"Disobeying orders, sir. I promise you it won't happen again, sir."

"I hope not, Crosby. I sincerely hope not. Sometimes I fear that we won't survive this war. But sometimes I fear we will, and then what?"

He looked at Crosby.

"That's why I'm counting on you, Crosby. Whatever happens, I'm counting on you to help maintain unit cohesion. The longer we stay in this world, the more likely it is I'm afraid that the chain of command and discipline will break down."

Their conversation was interrupted when the door opened and the blonde knight bowed her head.

"Lord General, the princess is requesting your presence in her chambers!"

Konrad nodded and noticed the grin on Crosby's face.

"Sergeant, as I recall you have duties to attend to."

Crosby continued to smile.

"As do you, sir, with all due respect."

_(AN: Another pet peeve of mine, and fanfiction is not a capital offender there are other mediums that abuse this, is that in a story where there is a military and a chain of command and the protagonist or secondary character go charging off to be the hero and save the day, they rarely get the ass-chewing that would ensue in the real world. So hopefully I was able to convey that without Konrad seeming like too much of a jerk. A bit of Good News, Bad News. Good News is the next chapter will be the opening salvos of the first battle in the War against the Reconquista. Bad News is it might take a bit longer to get it out. Since I suck at writing battle sequences I'm going to have my betas proof it before I publish, but my goal is still to have something up by late next week. Until then!)_


	79. Battle Management

_(AN: Well, finally here! And if the chapter seems a bit more coherent and not as buggy, then send your props to Trainalf for beta'ing this chapter. It's my first stab at combat so hopefully it's worth the wait. Enjoy!)_

At 4:45 AM, Helkeginia Time, it was Lt. McPherson's voice that cut through the darkness of the ballroom turned barracks.

"Code Red! The Reconquista invasion fleet has spotted! All members of the 33rd suit up and get to your posts! Move!"

Immediately lanterns and candles were lit, and the soldiers started gearing up. Saito was pulling on his boots when he noticed the door opening and Lugo walked in. The Delta sniper had an uncharacteristically large grin plastered on his face. The teen smiled. He saw the Zulu squad sergeant hand Lugo his Scout Tactical.

"Well, sergeant, it would appear that you had a more pleasant evening than the rest of us."

Lugo grinned.

"Damn skippy, sarge. Of course the wifie was a bit peeved at McPherson interrupting us."

Crosby shook his head, smiling.

"War is hell, boy. Get used to it."

Their conversation was interrupted by the other soldier who had private quarters. Lt. Gordon walked up to the locker where his Heavy Trooper armor and weapons were stashed and began suiting up. The Little Bird pilot was sitting next to the footlocker, checking his UMP-45, and as Gordon pulled on his armored shin-guards, he noticed his fellow officer was staring.

"What's the malfunction, Bowles?"

Bowles continued to scrutinize Gordon, and then a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

"Well, I'll be marinated in shit and baked, you finally did it."

Gordon tried to feign ignorance, but there was a flush of pink creeping from his ears to his neck.

"What are you talking about, lieutenant?"

The pilot snickered.

"Don't go all formal on me, Jimmy. You got laid last night."

He turned to McPherson.

"Hey, Romeo over here finally got laid."

Gordon glared at Bowles.

"I fucking did not!"

But the retort came too quickly, and Bowles pressed on.

"You did so, you're glowing."

Gordon quickly shook his head.

"That's a negative, I am not glowing."

He turned to Crosby, who was watching the proceedings with amusement.

"Sergeant, back me up on this?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Ah, sir, with all due respect, you are glowing a bit."

McPherson snickered.

"That's a roger, Gordon. You've got that post-coital glow that only happens to us soldiers after we've left our lady-friend's quarters or a whorehouse."

Bowles opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the door opening, and a blonde busty elf girl walked in holding a small trinket. Her wide blue eyes lit up when she saw Gordon.

"There you are! I thought I would miss you, here you forgot the token of affection I gave you for luck."

Tiffania padded up to her beloved, unaware of the smirks on the other soldiers. As she fastened the trinket to the Heavy Trooper's AA-12 automatic shotgun, Bowles spoke up.

"So Tiff, question."

She turned to the pilot.

"Yes, Mr. Bowles?"

He grinned.

"Did you and the loot here get laid last night?"

The elf girl looked puzzled.

"Laid? What do you mean?"

Bowles continued.

"You know, did the deed, had a roll in the hay, the beast with two backs, played a game of hide the sausage and spill the sherbet?"

Tiffania shook her head.

"Oh no, no nothing like that. All we did was make love and then sleep."

All of the soldiers burst out laughing, and Tiffania turned to Gordon.

"Why are you so flushed, are you hot? Should I get you something?"

Gordon shook his head.

"Not unless you can transform me to be about six inches tall."

He glared at Bowles.

"Or turn this shithead into a gerbil so I can stuff him up McPherson's ass."

The elf girl's eyes widened and she tilted her head to one side.

"But that would be painful!"

* * *

><p><strong>(The gates of Tristainia, T+1 R-Hour)<strong>

Konrad surveyed the emplacement just in front of the gates. He and the princess were standing on the city wall's turrets that had the best view of the gates and the valley beyond it. Fifty yards from the gate was a heavily fortified trench with razorwire, sandbags and the Gatling guns. Directly in front of the gates was a second sandbag emplacement, with the Royal Sharpshooter cadre. He spoke into his radio.

"All units, sound off."

He heard the buzzing the Little Bird overhead. Lt. Bowles was piloting his `Bird, and Tebby was sitting at the gunner station with a UMP-45. The pilot grinned and spoke into his radio.

_"Bravo Six reporting in, and ready to kick some ass."_

Lt. McPherson watched the menials load drum-sized shells into breech of the castle's AA guns, while others were rotating the gun carriage supporting both guns into position. He keyed his mic.

_"__AA Gun Two, reporting in."_

PFC Alex Walker pulled back the bolt on his M-99 sniper rifle and racked a large .50 caliber BMG round into the chamber. He peered through his scope and spoke into his radio. As the crackshot and spotter it was his job to identify high-value targets and coordinate the supporting fire. And take the occasional headshot as appropriate.

_"Bravo Two-Six, spotter on the Wall, reporting in."_

Sgt. Crosby looked over to where his erstwhile platoon officer was standing. Both he and Gordon decided to man the parapet, along with 200 Royal Sharpshooters that were the best shots they were gate's only buffer between them and the inbound hostiles. He saw Lt. Gordon give him the thumbs-up. Croby grinned and spoke into his radio.

_"__Iceman, at the Gate, reporting in."_

He looked and saw their Zippo Truck, formerly the fueling truck for the Spectre gunship now turned into a rolling flamethrower courtesy of the mad genius that was Professor Colbert. Speaking of the devil, the balding mage was sitting in the armored platform that housed the long-snouted flamethrower. The professor caught Crosby looking his way and waved, sporting a not totally healthy-looking grin in the process.

Lt. Gordon looked around, clad in his Heavy Trooper armor his appearance was ferocious. That was the idea, in addition to being a walking armored support, the very sight of seeing the dreaded Golem of the Jester would be enough to inflict fear in the stoutest of Reconquista hearts.

_"__Heavy Four, on the parapet, reporting in."_

Then a large cluster of speakers popped up out of nowhere.

_ "__And the Radioman is coming to you live and local from Ghostrider, here to bring you peace through superior Geneva-sanctioned firepower and the baddest 80's tunes on this side of Helkeginia."_

There was a slight pause.

_"__Actually it's your only source of 80's music."_

Darden could see the perplexed look on the princess's face at the sight of the speakers, and he turned and looked over his shoulder at the gunner's station. He grinned and spoke into his headset.

_"__And it wouldn't be a party without a member of Delta Squad, introducing our own ruggedly handsome cradle-robber! G'ahead, Lugo and say something."  
><em>

The Delta Sniper had volunteered to man the AC-130 Spectre gunship's only non WP-armed weapon, the GAU-12 Equalizer 25mm Gatling gun, capable of firing bullets the size of a man's thumb up to 3,000 times per minute. The battlefield on Lugo's station was a wash of white targets over a dark green screen. He diverted his attention from the screen to address the Radioman's latest barb.

_"__Screw you, Darden. That pedobear shit is getting old."_

He paused for a moment, realizing that he could hear himself in his own headset.

_"__Wait, is this live? You asshole!"  
><em>

Konrad turned to look over at the princess, who had flushed pink at the soldier's coarse language. He shook his head and smiled.

"Gentlemen, if we could maintain radio disciple? There are polite ears listening in on this partyline."

Lugo's voice, a bit more subdued, came through the static.

_"__Ah, Delta 3, manning the big guns on Ghostrider, reporting in."_

Saito pushed the cyclic stick and the Blackhawk nosed forward to a combat formation behind Bravo Six. He spoke into his radio.

_"__Bravo Zero reporting in and ready to kick ass and take names!"_

Then he caught movement in the back, and a flash of pink. He craned his head around to the left and saw nothing, but when he looked to his right he was shocked to see Louise sitting there in the copilot's seat, her large eyes even wider with fright.

"Louise! What are you doing here? You were supposed to be back there with Henrietta and the others."

She shook her head emphatically, and her high-pitched voice cut through the drone of the engines and the sound of blades chopping through the air.

"No! You're my familiar, and if you're going into battle then I am going to be there too."

She broke eye contact with him and lowered her head, her eyes shimmering.

"And…and if anything happened to you I would never forgive myself."

Saito was broken from his reverie by Bowles' voice crackling over the radio.

_"__Bravo Zero, is everything square? You're breaking formation there."_

The specialist keyed his radio mic.

"Ah, Bravo Six, negative no issues, I just found I have a passenger, sir."

There was audible chuckling on the other end.

_"__So the walking IED decided to stow aboard?"_

Saito nodded.

"Roger that, sir. Should I go back to base and drop her off?"

There was a pause on the line, and this time it was Konrad's voice.

_"__Negative, Bravo Zero, if she wants to join in the fight put her to work manning the minigun."_

The teen spoke up.

"Copy that, Bravo Actual. Bravo Zero out."

He turned over to Louise, who was still looking at him with a mix of curiosity and consternation. He pointed to the minigun mounted to the airframe behind the copilot.

"Alright Louise, you heard Lord General Konrad."

She looked shocked.

"What!? You expect me to fire that ugly piece of junk? I don't know how."

Saitos shook his head.

"It's very easy."

He pointed to the two handles protruding directly from behind the receiver of the weapon.

"You hold the gun like that and point it at what you want to kill."

He then pointed to a red plastic safety cover, and she pulled it up, revealing a toggle switch.

"…Flip that toggle switch to the other way to arm it..."

Saito pointed to two small buttons, one on each side recessed into the grip.

"…And push those buttons when you want to fire."

The pinkette shook her head.

"But how-"

The young specialist gritted his teeth at Louise.

"Look, I can't walk you through this and fly this bird, so just do exactly what I say when I say and everything will be fine!"

Surprised at his outburst, the pinkette merely nodded.

The Radioman's voice popped up in his headset.

_"__Well, well, well, looks like bein' in the army has you growing a real pair, great job standing up with Little Miss A-Cup Angst."_

* * *

><p>Dark shapes appeared in the clouds, like a storm brewing. Then those shapes emerged, revealing dozens of airships, all blazened with the Albionian Reconquista livery. Then the Jester's voice reverberated through the air.<p>

_"__Beep-Beep-Beep this just in! Radioman here with a breaking news update! The Reconquista have made landfall in Tristain and their misbehavior in Tarpes has been officially recognized as an act of War!_

_Reconquista troops, feel free to surrender now, and it won't hurt as much. Those who still wanna fight, then be prepared for the ass-whooping that you are about to receive!"_

McPherson spoke into his radio over the din of the Radioman's taunts.

"Six-Two this is Gun Two, eyes on Tango, advise on range?"

Alex's voice crackled through the static.

_"__Gun Two, be advised, range is 1,000 meters and closing, Grid ES 923 945, how copy?"_

"Roger Grid ES 923 945, solid copy. Stand by, fire for effect."

He turned and ordered his crew to load both of the twin-barreled anti-aircraft guns. Two commoners turned massive cranks that rotated and elevated the guns on groaning gears. When they were primed and in position McPherson spoke again.

"Firing for effect."

He turned to the gun crew.

"FIRE!"

The sound of both AA guns going off caused Henrietta to jump, even though she was far from the parapet herself. She caught herself clutching onto Konrad's arm and quickly let go before anyone in her retinue saw her.

Alex stared through the scope of his M-99 at the approaching Reconquista fleet. Suddenly the air around the lead airship burst into a large explosion off its port side.

"Gun Two, adjust fire, adjust fire: direction 600, add 100, left 150, how copy?"

_"Roger, adjusting fire direction 600, add 100, left 150. Firing again."_

Alex peered through his scope again, this time an explosion ripped through the dorsal sails of the leading ship, causing it to list to starboard. It collided with two other airships, and then a second explosion split it in half. Alex grinned.

"Gun Two, that was a solid hit, took three of those bastards down."

_"Roger that, now we only have 197 to go. Relaying fire mission to Gun One, firing at will."_

* * *

><p>Konrad watched through his binoculars as more airships crashed to the ground in splintered ruins. He could also see bodies raining down and closed his eyes. They were the enemy, the more of them that perished in this initial bombardment the less boots on the ground, and the fewer enemies to shoot at. The colonel also noted that for every troop airship that was blasted out of the sky there were still several that slipped past. He panned his sights over to the valley, were there were at least a score of troop transports already landed and Reconquista archers and footmen assembling. He spoke into his radio.<p>

"Bravo Six, Bravo Zero; hostile boots are on the ground, commence ground operations and deliver Strike Package Alpha Mike Foxtrot."

His radio crackled with static and Bowles' voice came through.

_"__Copy that Bravo Actual, commencing Strike Package Alpha Mike Foxtrot."_

The Radioman's voice boomed through the air.

_"__Wow, it's raining Reconquista men! Who'd have thought that? We interrupt our musical trip down memory lane to bring you this breaking news bulletin: _

_Attention men of the 33rd, Reconquistia target dummies are now on the range! Repeat Reconquista target dummies now available on the firing range! First soldier to knock down ten gets a kewpie doll!"_

The Radioman continued.

_ "__And for you Reconquista troops who survived our thunderstorm of a welcome, I have more bad news on the weather front. The forecast calls for heavy showers…of lead that is, heh-heh. Hope you boys brought your raincoats!"_

* * *

><p>Lord Farquod, the Reconquista noble leading the first charge against the wretched Tristainians, surveyed the damage that the Outworlders barbaric weapons wrought on his force. He then turned and spoke to his second in command.<p>

"What is our muster, Sir Pellinore?"

The Reconquista noble gestured behind him.

"We have over one hundred archers that survived, and three hundred footmen mustering, my lord."

Farquod nodded, and pulled out his spyglass. He could see the gates of Tristainia, and true to what Lord Cromwell said, the Tristainian forces were pitifully small. Lord Farquod was tasked by the leader of the Reconquista with gaining a foothold on Tristain soil to have a staging area for their Dragon Riders. At first it seemed like a simple enough plan, but they underestimated the range and power of the Outworlder's weapons. He had seen, from his own airship, the cruel damage the cannons wrecked. Still, he was confident. Even if their dastardly air cannons pare down the Reconquista's numbers, the Reconquista would still ultimately prevail.

He noticed there was some sort of crude earthen parapet topped with some sort of wire right in front of the gates. He also counted at least two Outworlders at the gate. That worried him. Their intelligence gathering from Albion was unable to estimate the Outworlder's numbers, but they were anywhere from two score to a handful. He heard a buzzing sound like angry bees, followed by a sharp chopping sound, and turned his scrying device to the sound's origin. It was their metal airships.

He had not been at the Tarpes massacre, but he had seen the fields just outside the town littered with the shattered bodies of the elite Reconquista Musketeers. All were slaughtered to a man, and most of their weapons were primed but not fired. All of it pointed to one thing. This airship possessed firepower unlike anything they had ever seen. Even if Cromwell's secret weapon could bring it down, it would certainly bring a high butcher's bill beforehand.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the airship change course. It banked sharply to the right, and was facing him head-on. It was coming right at them, which would mean-

"Find cover! The Outworlder's airships are upon us!"

* * *

><p>Down by the parapet, Crosby pulled himself on top of the sandbagged emplacement and looked over to the top. He saw Bravo Six do its first strafing run, and noted that the miniguns were cutting down the massed infantry. He also noted with humor that their archer's arrows bounced harmlessly off the Little Bird's underbelly.<p>

Bravo Zero came to a hover off to the side, and its side-mounted minigun spewed out tracer fire that cut down footmen and archers with equal east. He wasn't sure, but Crosby swore the person manning the minigun had bright pink hair. So she really counldn't stand to be away from him. He shook his head and looked back at the advancing army approaching them.

To their credit, the Reconquista troops still marched forward in spite of being strafed by two attack helicopters, and more troopships were landing to replace the casualties. At this rate the gate would be facing at least twice their number in this first wave. He pulled down his goggles and turned to the Royal Sharpshooter manning one of the Gatling guns.

"Here they come! Get ready!"

_(AN: Yeah I'm a stinker for ending it on another cliffhanger, but I had to break this battle out into manageable chapters. Since this is very on battle sequences the update schedule is going to be spotty. I'm going to plan to have another chapter up by the end of next week, but we'll see.)_


	80. MFWIC

_(AN: So yeah, I'm waaaay behind. But at least I got this up before my trip. And *yay!* this story is up to 60K visitors! Drinks and frothy mugs of water all around. Props again to Trainalf for beta'ing the battle sequences, and hopefully there aren't too many grammatical errors. Enjoy!)_

Crosby climbed up and stood on top of the elevated sandbag emplacement that effectively blocked the gates of Tristainia. Fifty feet in front of his position was the trenched parapet where the shotgunners and Gatling gun emplacements were embedded. He could see the Heavy Trooper Gordon going back and forth making sure that everyone was loaded and ready. He spoke into his radio.

"Heavy Four, be advised we preparing volley fire, ready the Gatling guns when those bastards get in range."

The officer's voice came through the static of his radio.

_"__Copy that, sergeant."_

He looked up and saw more bodies and debris fall from the sky as another airship disintegrated under their AA gun barrage. Unfortunately he could see more airships slipping through. His musings were interrupted when his radio squawked and he heard Bowles' voice on the radio.

_"__Iceman, this is Bravo Six, we are engaging hostile force but there's too many, and I've got eyes on an enemy force advancing. Should we break off and pursue?"_

Crosby spoke into his radio.

"Copy that Bravo Six, what is the size of enemy force advancing?"

_"__Be advised, enemy force is roughly two company's strength." _

The Zulu Squad sergeant pulled up his binoculars to look across the valley. Sure enough, he could see a large dark mass advancing.

"Negative, Bravo Six, we will engage. Continue engaging ground forces and maintain radio contact. Iceman out."

The Zulu Squad sergeant then turned to face the Royal Sharpshooters and barked in his loudest bootcamp DI voice.

"Royal Sharpshooters, Ready, Weapons!"

As one all the soldiers brought their weapons to bear. He barked another command.

"At One Hundred Fifty Yards! Volley fire, present! Aim!"

All the soldiers sighted their rifles. The mass of Reconquista footmen crawled forward, all in tight formation.

"FIRE!"

There was a cacophonous sound as two hundred rifles fired in rapid succession. The wall of lead traveled at roughly the speed of sound and slammed into the front ranks of the Reconquista soldiers. Crosby raised his binoculars as soon as they fired to see their effect for himself.

The effects were immediate and devastating, two hundred .577 caliber bullets tore through chainmail, leather armor, cloth and flesh with terrifying ease. The front rank of the advancing Reconquista soldiers disintegrated, and the footmen immediately behind them were splattered with blood, sinew and larger chunks of flesh that used to be their comrades. Some of the better aimed shots when through the front rank and struck others behind them. Crosby noted grimly that some of the now front-ranking footmen were already starting to panic. Good, he thought to himself. Maybe these idiots will retreat, although it was a fool's hope. The Zulu Squad noticed movement towards the rear of the column and focused on it. The archers were prepping their longbows. He lowered his binoculars jumped down behind the sandbags.

"Arrows!" He barked. "Incoming!"

All the Sharpshooters soldiers immediately hunched down, and Crosby heard the air whistle as a shower of arrows rained down on them. He felt one embed itself in the armor on his back, but it was stopped by the ceramic plate insert. He stood up and saw that the helmets and crude flak armor did its job, most of the Royal Sharpshooters got back up and were brushing arrows off their armor and their sandbag positions. There were a few that didn't get up. He switched channels on his radio.

"Get a medic out here, we have wounded."

He switched channels to Gordon's frequency.

"Heavy Four, the hostiles are still advancing and closing in on your poz."

_"Roger that, sergeant."_

Gordon then switched on his external speak and a loud distorted voice echoed down the parapet.

"At fifty yards, Gatling gunners commence firing. FIRE!"

Crosby watched from his highpoint and observed young pages pulling two-wheeled carts full of ammunition boxes. They first stopped at his position, leaving handfuls of bullets to the Sharpshooters from their Henri Martini rifles, then they quickly scurried to the parapet. He watched them hand large boxes of thumb-sized bullets to the loaders manning the Gatling guns.

The Zulu Squad sergeant tore his gaze back to the carnage unfolding in no man's land in front of him. More footmen and archers fell to the unrelenting onslaught of bullets. He noted that some of the men were fleeing already. This wasn't a battle, he thought to himself, this was a massacre. He shook his head. This might be a massacre, but it was Reconquista soldiers being massacred, not Tristainian soldiers or worse, civilians. The memories of Tarpes being burned to the ground quashed any feelings of sympathy. The Reconquista was the enemy, plain and simple. And if he and the other members of the 33rd didn't kill them, then those same Reconquista troops would kill him, and others. It was really that simple, he told himself. His thoughts were interrupted by his radio crackling to life. Alex's voice came through the static.

_"__Iceman, this is Bravo Six-Two I have eyes two three siege towers, about 500 yards out, can you confirm a visual?"_

Crosby pulled up his binoculars and scanned the battlefield. Sure enough, there siege engines fabricated from thick timber and steel plating, being pushed and dragged forward on massive wooden wheels. He knew just by looking at it that conventional firepower couldn't take them down. He spoke into his radio.

"Confirmed, Bravo Six-Two I have eyes on the siege towers. Mark their poz with your laser targeting designator and call it in to Delta Three."

_"__Copy that."_

* * *

><p>Alex switched channels on his radio.<p>

"Ghostrider, this is Bravo Six-Two, we have three siege towers approaching the gates, requesting immediate heavy firepower, over."

There was a pause, and Lugo's voice came through.

"Bravo Two-Six this is Delta Three, I don't have eyes on tangos can you mark their position, over?"

Alex thumbed the switch on the rail of his M-99, activating a thin green beam of light, not visible to the naked eye. But to Lugo 10,000 feet up it was a bright green spot in his targeting screen. He spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Six-Two, be advised I have a visual on tangos, confirm three constructs being illuminated by your laser?"

He heard Alex give him an affirmation.

_"Affirmative Delta Three, three constructs are designated tangos."_

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two, stand by for the rain."

He pushed the fire button on the joystick, and he watched on his green targeting screen as the ground 10,000 feet beneath him erupted with explosions as the first of the three siege towers was obliterated.

* * *

><p>"Come on you worthless dogs! Move your backs into it!"<p>

A large burly mercenary cracked his horsewhip against the backs of menials who were pulling ropes that slowly inched the armored siege engine forward. Some were commoner criminals or political prisoners, others were survivors from Tarpes, all were ones who chose slavery over death. An Albion noble approached the mercenary.

"Hector, tell me why those damned siege engines haven't reached the walls yet?"

The mercenary paused and bowed to the noble.

"A thousand apologies, Sir Pellinore, but these miserable dogs are slow and need much motivation."

Sir Pellinore shook his head.

"Lord Farquod is not a patient man, he promised Lord Cromwell that the gates of Tristainia would fall before noon, so our fearless leader could have luncheon with the princess in her Spring Garden and discuss the terms of Tristain's surrender to Albion."

The mercenary was about to retort, when the siege engine furthest from him erupted in an explosion of metal shards and splinters. Then there was a sound like the crack of thunder, the ground around the ruined siege engine churned as if by an unseen plowblade. Both noble and mercenary could only what in horror as the ground around the second siege engine erupted in a shower of dirt clods and grass, and then the second siege engine disintegrated.

The menials and slaves began to flee, and Hector was still whipping them as the ground around him erupted. Then, the mercenary with the bandaged leg was no more, a single 25mm shell hit him dead on and Hector simply ceased to exist in a red shower of blood and dirt.

* * *

><p>The Delta sniper watched as the last siege engine explode in ruins and released his finger from the fire button. It felt wrong, Lugo thought, to deal out death so far from the battlefield. He overheard the Radioman cracking another joke about the heavy rain the Reconquista were experiencing on their first vacation in Tristain. But looking back at the green screen all Lugo could think of was the White Phosphorus attack at the gate back in Dubai. His thoughts were interrupted by Alex's voice coming through on his headset.<p>

_"__Ghostrider this is Bravo Six-Two, confirmed threat eliminated, all three towers destroyed. Nice job, Delta Three."_

Lugo keyed his headset.

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two. We will continue to engage hostile forces, advise on any high-value targets. Delta Three out."

* * *

><p>Guiche, who is watching from the wall as they prep their Dragon riders, whoops overjoyed at the destruction of the siege engines.<p>

"Yay! Look, my beloved MonMon, all those brave soldiers have destroyed the Reconquista!"

He waved his rose wand in a dramatic fashion.

"My only sad thought is that they will kill them all before I have a chance to prove myself to you my love."

The blonde girl frowned at her boyfriend, but before she could deliver a retort one of the soldiers pulled Guiche off the wall.

"Get down!" Alex glared at the fop.

"You're making yourself a target, kid."

As if to prove the young sniper's point a stray arrow sailed over their heads almost exactly where the Guiche was standing.

"But between your airships and your large guns you've slaughtered them!"

He looked over to the field where the bodies and ruins of the siege engines lay.

"There has to be at least five hundred dead out that I count."

Alex shrugged took back his position peering through the scope of his rifle.

"Assuming we did, that only leaves six thousand, five hundred more to go."

He looked back up at the teen.

"In the meantime, I suggest you stay off this wall, if you don't want your face rearranged by a stray arrow or ballista bolt."

Alex watched Guiche slink off, suitably chastened. He looked over to the blonde girl with the ringlets in her head.

"I've got to get back on the clock, but do me a favor sweetheart?"

Montmorency huffed.

"I am not your sweetheart."

Alex shook his head.

"It's a figure of speech, besides I already have a girlfriend. And no offense kid, but you're not my type."

He peered back at in his scope and didn't see the wounded expression on the blonde girl's face. He continued speaking whilst still scanning the battlefield for more targets.

"Just do me a favor and make sure Pretty Boy doesn't go all Leeroy Jenkins and get himself killed, 'kay?"

Montmorency nodded once and turned to follow her boyfriend back to the staging area where the Griffon Riders were preparing. Peering through his scope Alex caught movement in the peripheral vision and aim his rifle up. Quickly he spoke into his radio.

"Dragon Riders inbound eyes up! I say again, Dragon Riders are inbound eyes on the sky!"

Immediately Bowles responded.

_"__Copy that, I have eyes on tangos. This is Bravo Six, be advised we are engaging aerial tangos."  
><em>

Saito's voice piped up on the radio.

_"__This is Bravo Zero, I have eyes on hostile dragon riders. Engaging!" _

* * *

><p>Bowles jerked his cyclic stick and his Little Bird banked sharply to the left to avoid an incoming Dragon Rider. He heard Tebby firing his UMP-45 and saw one of the dragons lurch and fall as bullets punctured the tender membranes of its wings. But for every one they took out there seemed to be more to replace them. He keyed his mic.<p>

"There's too many of them! Bravo Six-Two get Bravo Actual on the horn and tell him to deploy the Griffon Guards!"

Alex's voice came through.

_"__Copy that, Bravo Six."_

* * *

><p>Saito squinted through the Blackhawk's windscreen and could see mounted griffons engaging the Dragon Riders that slipped past them. The Tokyo teen turned Specialist looked off to the side and saw Louise fire the minigun and take out another dragon. He heard the pinkette let out a triumphant whoop as both mage and dragon tumbled to the earth and smiled. At least she wasn't being the load, and seemed to be enjoying her new toy. His thoughts were interrupted when Alex's voice came through the static in his headset.<p>

_"__This is Bravo Six-Two, I have eyes on some sort of catapults, Bravo Six, Bravo Zero engage and take those bastards out before they have a chance to lob any stones."_

He looked over to Louise, who gave him the thumbs up. He smiled and keyed his mic.

"This is Bravo Zero, I have eyes on new tangos, I am engaging."

* * *

><p>Crosby heard the radio chatter and scanned the battlefield with his binoculars. In the distance he could see several large catapults, just like in the old medieval movies, the footmen on the ground were hoisting the arm into firing position, whilst menials rolled a large rock into the sling. He lowered his binoculars as it dawned on him what their first target would be.<p>

"Incoming! Everybody take cover!"

Saito watched from his vantage point in his Blackhawk in horror as the as one of the trebuchets let off a shot, and a boulder the size of a Volkswagen crashed into the city walls. They held, but the boulder made a significant dent in the masonry. He spoke into his radio urgently.

"Iceman, Heavy Four, status?"

There was a pregnant pause for a long three minutes, but then he heard a familiar clipped voice on the radio.

_"__Iceman here, the walls took a direct hit, but it held." _

Saito nodded.

"Glad to hear you're still in one piece, Crosby-san."

_"__Roger that, kid, but if it's not too much trouble, could you take those fucking catapults out before they get off another shot?"_

The teen grinned.

"Roger that, Crosby-san."

He switched channels to Bravo Six's frequency.

"Bravo Six, follow my lead and let's take that fucking catapult out! Another shot like that and Crosby-san will be toast!"

* * *

><p>Lord Farquod lowered his spyglass in horror. Watching five hundred of his best footmen and archers getting massacred before they could even draw their blades was bad enough, but when he saw the Outworlder's magic airships disintegrate his siege engines and trebuchets, he felt a stab of something in his entrails. Then the Jester's mocking voice echoed across the battlefield.<p>

_"__Wow, that's what I call some serious firepower! You didn't actually think we'd just let you walk in here, did ya? Hope you guys weren't pinning a lot of hopes on those siege towers or catapults, cuz it's gonna take a lot more than throwing oversized rocks and poking with sharp pointy sticks to defeat the Damned 33__rd__! Here's some nice, easy listening music to sing along to while you get slaughtered."_

The air was filled with the sound of banshee-like wailing and distorted shrieks, an unseen creature screamed that it was raining blood from a lacerated sky. For the first time, Farquod thought that maybe he could fail in his mission. His dark thoughts were interrupted when he heard a cheerful voice behind him.

"Well, seems as if the battle is going swimmingly."

The Albion noble turned around to see a well-dress noble mounted on a dragon with a highly ornate bridle and riding kit. Lord Farquod bowed.

"Well met, Sir Percival. Although I find it odd that you are here, given your close relationship to Lord Cromwell as well as your well-known opinions about the Reconquista's goals."

Percival chuckled at Lord Farquod's not-so veiled barb.

"Oh come on, Henry, let's not quarrel in front of our enemies. Just because I don't kowtow to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't mean I don't still share the same dream of my friend Lord Cromwell."

He looked over to the battlefield.

"It would appear as though my friendly enemy's companions are making mincemeat of your men, Henry."

The older noble bristled at Sir Percival's flippant manner.

"Lord Cromwell could have told me that he was using my men as cannon fodder to test the range and effectiveness of the Outworlder's guns."

The younger noble smiled thinly.

"If he told you, could you have ordered your men to charge, knowing you were sending them to their deaths?"

When Lord Farquod remained silent Sir Percival continued.

"This war is going to be a bloody one, make no mistake about it. And it will not be all Tristainian blood that will be shed today."

He looked up to the sky.

"But Lord Cromwell is holding his two secret weapons in reserve, after the Tristainian forces have been whittled down and the Outworlder's weapons have been exhausted, then he shall strike."

He looked back to Lord Farquod.

"In the meantime, I suggest you organize what's left of your force for another advance. We need to push those soldiers back to the gate if possible."

Sir Percival watched as the older noble bowed and left grumbling. When Lord Farquod was out of sight the younger noble lowered his head.

"Brimir forgive me, but win or lose all I wish is to face Sir Crosby in honorable combat this day. I sincerely hope he survives the day."

_(AN: And there you have all the tropes for a Rate M for Manly first stage of the battle. Let's tick off the numbers shall we?_

_More Dakka, check._

_Ludicrous Gibs, check._

_Gatling Good, double check._

_Death From Above, check check check._

_Hopefully it was alright, as I said I'm not very good at doing battle sequences. Next chapter probably won't be up until week after next, I'm traveling next week so I don't know if I'll have a chance to update. Until then!)_


	81. MFWIC, Part Deux

_(AN: So, some of my faithful readers are a bit…unnerved at all the gratuitous carnage in the last couple of chapters. I mean, over the last eighty chapters I've been hammering the point home that the faceless mooks that Walker and his team were so gleefully gunning down were in fact real human beings and spent a lot of time humanizing them. So it is natural that in watching Crosby Gordon Alex & co. go from nice guys surrounded by a harem to soldier mode callously gunning down large swathes of Reconquista troops seem a bit jarring. Well fear not, do not adjust the resolution on your laptop or PC, it is all part of the plan. There is a reason for all of it, and it will be made clear soon enough. In the meantime, enjoy the gratuitous violence of these battle chapters. After all, it's only a fanfic, so it's harmless fun, right?_

_Ok, I'll get off my soapbox now, this portion should have been in the previous chapter but now I've actually have some downtime so I'd thought I'd churn it out real quick. Hope you enjoy!)_

"Forward! Keep morning forward!"

The mercenary captain snarled at the quailing footmen. Of course, he knew what lay ahead. The Tristainian soldiers were wielding the Outworlders cursed repeating muskets. He could see his own men fall like stalks of wheat under the withering incoming fire. He shook his head. This was no way to fight a civilized battle. The repeating muskets made the Reconquista's numbers worthless, and they were losing this battle. He looked over his shoulder and saw the mounted heavy cavalry unit mustering. He saw the leader raise a flag signalling that they were ready to charge. He turned back and yelled at his men.

"Men! Take cover, our mounted brethren will make short work of these Tristainian dogs!"

* * *

><p>Crosby lowered his binoculars and spoke into his radio.<p>

"Heavy Four, be advised I see mounted cavalry advancing on your position. Take cover."

Gordon's voice came through the static.

_"__Copy that Iceman. We are hunkering down and deploying the Zippo Truck."_

As if on queue the Volvo R-11 refueler truck coughed to life and rumbled forward. Crosby watched as a Tristainian knight inside the cab spun the wheel on the truck and maneuver it into position. Inwardly the Zulu Squad sergeant thanked the Scandinavian truck maker for equipping this truck with a push-button gear selector, which made it easier to operate. He checked the cavalry's approach through his binoculars again and radioed Colbert.

"Zippo Truck, be advised incoming cavalry is 100 yards and advancing, let loose the fire at 50 yards."

The professor's accented voice came through the static of his radio.

_"I understand, Sir Crosby. Stand by for the flame-thrower."_

Crosby nodded and raised his binoculars again to survey what damage the Zippo Truck would inflict.

* * *

><p>The mercenary captain watched in horror as he saw the entire no-man's land become engulfed in flames. One of the Outworlder's barbaric weapons spat a stream of fire like a dragon, and burned whatever came into contact with it. He saw knight and mount fall to the ground, watched as they cooked like meat in their armor. Worst of all, he heard the screaming of the horses and the animalistic cries of men in the throes of agony. He shook his head and glared up at the sky.<p>

"I hope that bastard Lord Cromwell knows how badly we're losing to these Outworlders."

* * *

><p>Up in the sky the skewed dogfight between the Reconquista Dragon Riders and the 33rd's choppers continued. Tebby saw several of the dragons clustering around Bravo Zero and heard Saito's voice on the radio.<p>

_"__Bravo Six! I'm getting hammered here, gimme some covering fire!"_

Tebby grinned.

"Copy Bravo Zero, we are inbound. Stand by for covering fire."

The corporal looked down below and saw an entire platoon of mounted cavalry get napalmed courtesy of their Zippo Truck and the eccentric professor from the academy. He shook his head. This wasn't a battle, it was a massacre. For a brief moment he was reminded of the engagement at the Gate where they cut down the poorly armed CIA-backed insurgents with heavy weapons and Willy Pete. Tebby's thoughts were interrupted by Bowles' voice.

_"__Corporal, take out that guy on the purple dragon, he looks like the ringleader."_

Tebby nodded and took aim with his UMP-45. He let out several bursts, scoring a headshot on the ringleader who was riding the purple dragon with the highly ornate kit. As dragon and rider fell to the ground Tebby let out a whoop.

"Got the fucker!"

He heard the lieutenant chuckling on his radio.

_"__Alright corporal, just don't get cocky. I've got two more Dragon Riders inbound, get ready!"_

* * *

><p>Lord Cromwell stood on the observation deck on one of the larger airships that was escorting their secret weapon, the Ironclad warship. The Reconquista leader was surveying the battle for far above, apparently unconcerned for the loss of his men. A noble came running on the deck, he bowed low and spoke.<p>

"My lord, we have gained a foothold on Tristainian soil, but our ground forces are being massacred! Even our dragon riders are no match for the Outworlder's weapons of destruction!"

Cromwell smiled.

"Patience, Sir Valentine Wauton, patience. We have reserves, and we have yet to deploy our own secret weapons, let the first few waves wear down their defenses and their ammunition. Then, we shall strike!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud roar like a hurricane. A huge shadow blotted out the sun and a large red dragon swooped into view, flapping its massive wings. It landed lightly on the edge of the observation deck, its scythe-like claws digging into the heavy wooden timbers as though they were clay. Sir Wauton quailed at the terrifying sight of the scaled and horned dragon, but his leader remained calm and addressed the dragon as though he were speaking to a subordinate.

"Is everything in ready, Nahkriin? Are you ready to wreak your vengeance upon these Outworlders?"

The red dragon bobbed its massive head in a grotesque parody of a human nodding.

**"****Yessss. Long have I awaited the opportunity to repay the suffering I have felt at the hands of the Damned 33****rd****."**

Lord Cromwell looked back over to survey the battlefield. There was another large explosion as more of their troop transport airships were blown out of the sky by the Outworlders guns.

"As long as Tristiania is mine by the end of the day I don't care how many of those heathen Outworlders you kill. But remember this, Nahkriin, I'm taking an awful risk by throwing my men against their weapons, and the butcher's bill is already high. Don't fail me."

The dragon let out a staccato bark that passed for a chuckle.

**"****Foolish little man, empty threats mean nothing to the ****_Dov_****. ** **Remember, that Lord Alduin's interest in this petty war of yours ends with the deaths of Konrad and his men. After that He expects you to uphold your end of the bargain. Failure to do so, would be most…unfortunate."**

The red dragon turned its ponderous head to the side.

**"****Ah, now I must take leave, you are about to receive bad news. Farewell, little man. I go to hunt those who tormented me."**

The great red dragon spread its wings and flew off without another word. Cromwell had scarcely time to think when a dragon rider approached fast and furiously, the dragon almost crashed onto the deck of his flagship. The noble, a portly fellow with a ruddy face, was huffing like a bellows as he struggled to his feet.

"Well man, what is it?"

The noble took a deep breathe, and bowed his head.

"Lord Cromwell, I bring grave news. The 10th Hussar Dragon Riders contingent has been slaughtered to a man."

Cromwell's eyes widened.

"No." He whispered, but the noble continued.

"I am afraid that Sir Percival of Hockspur's body was found and numbered among the dead."

The Reconquista leader didn't hear anything else the noble babbled, he was numb. His friend Percy, dead. He had always thought that the jaunty fellow would always make it through, he had even declined the 'last toast' the evening before they set sail for Tristain, Cromwell having to oversee the final details of the invasion and Sir Percival saying that their winning the war was a foregone conclusion so a toast was unnecessary. He leaned against the railing and stared down at the ground roiling with explosions and smoke.

"Those murdering bastards."

He hissed.

"I will make them pay for killing my friend. They will all pay. I will give NO QUARTER!"

He shouted the last bit, and bellowed into the air, his words echoing across the battlefield.

"DO YOU HEAR ME YOU HEATHEN OUTWORLDERS? I WILL MAKE YOU ALL PAY!"

_AN: Yeah, it was kind of chickenshit of me to arbitrarily kill off Sir Percival like that, but this is the first sign of the 'War is Hell' bit. Hopefully there aren't too many errors, I admit my head's more on the beach than it is in the story LOL. I may publish a chapter about where Percy goes after his encounter with the Weaver of Fate, maybe. After that, the battle get more and more serious, so ye be warned. Until then!)_


	82. A Bridge Too Far

_(AN: And I'm sorry this has taken so long, this week has been nuts busy, ya leaves woik for a week and everything goes to Helena Handbasket…props again to Trainalf for helping convert this disjointed written sludge into something resembling a coherent battle sequence. Anyways, here's the next chapter, enjoy!)_

Konrad watched the scene unfold through his binoculars. It was odd how the little things registered; as he scanned the skirmish on the parapet he flinched involuntarily when he saw Lt. Gordon shrug off another volley of arrows. Then a puff of grey smoke by the gun emplacement caught his eye and his radio caught the battle chatter.

_"Iceman, Iceman, this is Heavy Four, we have a misfire on Gatling Gun Two, repeat we have a misfire, we need covering fire here, we're getting swamped!"_

The colonel saw the black and white armored Zulu Squad sergeant leap from cover with a squad of Tristainian Sharpshooters in tow. He watched as the Sharpshooters formed up and volley fired by rank, slowly advancing on the parapet and driving back the Reconquista aggressors.

_"Copy that, Heavy Four, we are advancing and providing covering fire, stand by!"_

He heard a chopping buzz overhead, and he raised his binoculars to see the frantic dogfight between the 33rd's two helicopters and the Reconquista's Dragon Riders. He switched channels on his radio to listen.

_"-I'm telling you Bravo Zero, we're up to our eyeballs in bogeys, you're on your own! Tell the walking IED to let off one of her blow-shit-up spells, but Bravo Six is under heavy fire! You're on your own!"_

Konrad lowered his binoculars and closed his eyes as the battle chatter continued. Things were starting to unravel, and he knew that it was only going to get worse.

First Gun Two suffered a mishap, and only Lt. McPherson's quick reflexes prevented a catastrophe. But, while he and the other Tristainian gunners were busy unjamming the bad shell from the gun's bore more troopships were slipping through, and more Reconquista footsoldiers were advancing on the gates. Then Bravo Zero and Bravo Six started engaging the Dragon Riders, and were getting overwhelmed, which only left Ghostrider for close air support. And their AC-130 gunship was too busy taking out catapults and siege towers to engage any of the ground troops. And now their own guns were misfiring. He massaged his temples and spoke into his radio.

"Heavy Four, Iceman, this is Bravo Actual, if the last Gatling gun goes south fall back to the gate, make sure our volunteers in the Zippo Truck know the same. I don't want you getting overrun. Bravo Actual out."

* * *

><p>"Roger that."<p>

Crosby switched channels on his radio and turned to see one of his Sharpshooters approach. Even though the man was covered in grime he could still tell he was one of the chevaliers.

"Knight-Sharpshooter, signal for more men to come down from the gate, we need more numbers."

The man hesitated.

"I will do as you command, Sir Crosby, but I should inform you that our rifles are suffering more misfires and cartridges that will not eject. The men are-"

Crosby lowered his binoculars and turned his completed attention to the Sharpshooter.

"The men are what, Knight-Sharpshooter?"

The chevalier squared his shoulders.

"My men will fight to the death, Sir Crosby. The bravado they were displaying earlier in day is gone, and they are afraid."

The Zulu Squad sergeant nodded.

"Well, they're in good company, because so am I. We still need more men and we need to push those damned Reconquista back off the parapet. Get to it."

The chevalier threw a sloppy imitation of the U.S. military salute and returned to formation. Crosby turned his attentions back to the skirmish. The swarm of Reconquista footsoldiers were getting dangerously close to the parapet, in spite of all the lead his Sharpshooters were throwing downrange and Gordon's shotgunners. He spoke into his radio.

"Colbert, signal your driver to pull the Zippo Truck up closer to the parapet, maybe giving those Reconquista bastards a hotfoot will have them back the fuck off."

The professor's voice came through the static of his radio.

_"I understand, Sir Crosby, but judging by the loss of pressure I think we are running low on the fire's fuel. I don't think I can give more than two or three sustained streams before we run out."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant cursed.

"Well, use whatever you have left and then fall back. No sense in getting cut off."

He noticed the Heavy Trooper having to step up onto the parapet and club an overzealous Reconquista knight off the top.

"Heavy Four, how are things holding up?"

He heard Gordon's voice as his radio crackled to life.

_"Not good, sergeant."_

The older soldiers smiled grimly.

"Let me guess, you're experiencing misfires, too?"

_"That an affirmative, sergeant. These brash cartridges obviously weren't meant to be chambered in rapid succession. All this dirt and shit is probably not helping either."_

Crosby asked the question to an answer he didn't want to hear.

"Can we hold the line?"

There was a long pause.

_"Negative, sergeant. I estimate we can hold out for three more waves before we get overrun."_

Crosby nodded

"Roger that, continue your assault, but when I give the signal prepare to pull back to the gate. The Zippo Truck and Ghostrider will cover your retreat when the parapet becomes indefensible."

He heard Gordon squawk his radio to acknowledge and switched channels.

"Delta Three, do you copy?"

It was Lugo who spoke through the static. The Delta sniper's voice sounded cheery but strained.

_"Roger that, sarge, we're a little busy up here taking out some heavy armor."_

"Copy that, Delta Three, can you divert a few thousand rounds to our front lines? We've got about two hundred hostiles converging on our poz."

He heard the Delta sniper chuckle.

_"I think we can handle that, sarge, stand by for close air support."_

Crosby switched channels back.

"Heavy Four, be advised Ghostrider is going to deliver close air support strike package, fall back off the parapet and take cover!"

* * *

><p>The ground right in front of the parapet erupted in a shower of viscera and mud as more 25mm shells pounded the advancing Reconquista soldiers. As the dust settled Crosby rose up from cover and checked the field with his binoculars. Once again the overwhelming firepower halted the advance, as he could see a small number of enemy troops retreating. The Zulu Squad sergeant felt another pang in his gut as he could also see them dragging their mangled wounded to safety, knowing it was his orders that inflicted such horrific wounds. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.<p>

"Heavy Four, regroup at the parapet and get a defensive line going."

He checked the sky, and could see Bravo Six still engaging the Dragon Riders in the sky, but no sign of Bravo Zero. He spoke into his radio again.

"Bravo Zero, this is Iceman, what is your status?"

There was a long pause on the radio, and nothing but static responded.

"Bravo Zero, this is Iceman, respond!"

Panic and a fear for the lives of the pinkette and the Tokyo teen hit the Zulu Squad sergeant, and he switched channels again.

"Bravo Six, Bravo Six-Two, do you have eyes on Bravo Zero?"

There was another long pause before Bowles' voice came through.

_"Ah, Iceman, this is Bravo Six, we're a little busy up here dealing with the Dragon Riders, but I do not have eyes on Bravo Zero, last I saw of him he was being chased by one of the Heavies and went to cover in the clouds. Cannot get Bravo Zero on the radio."_

Then Alex's voice spoke up.

_"Iceman I cannot get a visual on Bravo Zero, confirming with Bravo Six, when last I had eyes on Bravo Zero he was being chased by a larger dragon and rider into cloud cover. No visual since."_

Crosby shook his head. He hoped the kid was alright, but he wondered why they couldn't raise them on the radio. A loud explosion caught his attention and he scanned the sky. He could see the Tristainian Griffon Guards and the allied Dragon Riders engaging their Reconquista counterparts, with little success. Many of them were falling out of the sky, including one that looked very familiar. He heard Alex's voice come through.

_"Shit! I just saw that Guiche's dragon go down! Bravo Six, do you have a visual?"_

Bowles' voice spoke up.

_"Ah, roger that, I have a visual and it is our blonde fop. Dammit I thought I told you to tell him not to go all Leeroy Jenkins."_

He swore he could hear a high pitched scream through the static of his radio, then Alex's voice came through.

_"Ah, Bravo Six can you break off aerial engagement for a hot pickup? His girlfriend Blondie is going into hysterics on this end."_

There was another loud explosion that rocked Bravo Six and Bowles cursed for being distracted.

* * *

><p>This time Crosby saw what happened. One of the Dragon Riders, an Elite by the look of him, managed to cast a destructive spell aimed at Bravo Six. The spell barely missed the Little Bird and the explosion hit the chopper in the tail. He heard Bowles' voice edged with panic.<p>

_"Shit! I'm hit!"_

Crosby spoke in his radio urgently.

"Bravo Six, what is your status?"

There was a pause as the Little Bird righted itself. It seemed fine, aside from a thin plume of white smoke coming from the exhaust port. Finally Bowles' voice came through.

_"This is Bravo Six, we're fine. Tebby says he's got his work cut out for him when this is over, I think I popped something in the engine with that last dogfight."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant persisted.

"Bravo Six are you sure? You look like you got clipped pretty good."

There was another pause.

_"Negative, Iceman, negative we are battle ready and staying in the fight. We'll go into No Man's Land and pickup Guiche no problem."_

"Alright, but as soon as you have that kid secured I want your craft grounded and inspected, don't need you crashing out there."

"Roger that, Bravo Six out."

Crosby watched as the Little Bird banked sharply off to the corner of No Man's Land where Guiche had landed and prayed that the kid was alright. He also prayed there wouldn't be any more screw-ups this day.

* * *

><p>Bowles fought with the controls of his wounded `Bird. Even through he gave assurances to Crosby he knew that explosions shook something loose. It felt like it was coming from the transaxle or the rotor but he couldn't be sure. His thoughts were interrupted when he cleared a hill and saw a felled dragon and a familiar blonde figure on the battlefield. He spoke into his radio.<p>

"Tebby I'm going to strafe the LZ to clear it up but you're going to have to go in hot when you get Leeroy Jenkins."

The corporal's voice spoke up in his headset.

_"Roger that, El-Tee. Let's take her down."_

Bowles pulled back on his cyclic and eased the throttle on the collective, still fighting to keep his Little Bird level. As it slowly lowered he heard he staccato bark of his UMP-45 submachine gun and hoped Tebby could get Guiche out in one piece.

* * *

><p>Tebby jumped off the improvised seat on the Little Bird's wing and onto soft mud, not waiting for Bowles to touch down. He saw two more figures approach in the smoky haze of the battlefield and raised his weapon. Two quick bursts felled an armored Reconquista knight and some guy in a fancy robe, probably a mage. He looked down and saw the teenager lying on the ground. Quickly the corporal knelt down and put a thumb to the boy's neck. He felt a pulse but it was weak. Not waiting to revive Guiche he scooped the kid up bridal style, scanned for more hostiles and backed towards the Little Bird.<p>

_"No time like the present, move your ass!"_

Tebby didn't respond, but turned to place the wounded teen on the floor of the Little Bird, then heard Bowles' voice again.

_"Corporal, behind you!"_

The younger soldier quickly turned around and pulled the trigger. His shot went wild, but his adversary was so close it didn't matter. A crossbowman had snuck up behind Tebby while he was securing Guiche, and missed, if the crossbow bolt stuck in the Little Bird's airframe was anything to go off of. The burst hit the Reconquista soldier in the chest and neck, rewarding Tebby with the sight of a red fountain spurting from the man's severed cartoid artery. Tebby watched the man crumple, then pulled out the offending arrow.

"Nobody touches my `Bird, shithead."

As the Little Bird lifted off Guiche started to come around, and panicked because he was unaware of his surroundings.

"Easy does it, kid! You're pretty banged up so I need you to stay still."

Guiche weakly tried to sit up, only to have the soldier push him back down.

"W-wait! S-sir Thibault! He was still alive, he dragged me to safety, you must try to rescue him!"

Tebby smiled and nodded.

"Of course, kid, don't worry about him. As soon as we've dropped you off to the medics we'll go grab him, okay?"

The blonde teenager nodded and passed out. Tebby shook his head and spoke into his radio.

"Iceman be advised we are inbound with wounded, unsure of injuries it looks like we have broken leg, possible concussion and internal injuries. Stand by with a stretcher and healers at the LZ."

_"Roger that, Bravo Six. We will have medics standing by. Iceman out."_

The corporal switched to a private channel.

"Hey, El-Tee, we have a problem, there's another friendly in No-Man's-Land."

He heard Bowles chuckle through the static.

_"So, why is that a problem?"_

Tebby chuckled humorlessly.

"Sir, with all due respect, this `Bird's been vibrating bad enough to jar the fillings in my teeth loose. I know that dragon rider did a number on the rotor but I want to know is, can we make it back there and recover Sir Thibault?"

He almost could hear his CO shrug through the radio.

_"Does it matter? We gotta try."_

Tebby smiled in resignation.

_"Roger that."_

He watched as the Little Bird hovered over one of the courtyards of the palace and slowly lowered. The corporal could see several healers and a stretcher waiting, as well as the blonde girl with the funky ringlets in her hair. He could tell even from here that she was crying, and as soon as Guiche recovered consciousness he was in for an earful. He spoke into his radio.

"Iceman, be advise we have another wounded friendly on the deck in No Man's Land, after we have dropped off Blondie we are outbound to collect him. Try to keep those Reconquista bastards off our back in the meantime."

He heard Crosby's voice on the radio.

_"Bravo Six, are you sure you can make it back there?"_

He heard Bowles' chuckle through the radio.

_"Hell yeah sarge, everything's five-by-five. We'll be back before you know it. Bravo Six out."_

* * *

><p>The second pickup was hotter, there were more Reconquista soldiers waiting for them, and even after Bowles strafed the LZ Tebby had to drag the wounded Griffon Guards captain and fire his UMP-45 to keep them at bay. As soon as his feet left the ground Bravo Six was already ascending, arrows sticking to its airframe. Sir Thibault seemed in better shape than Guiche, and waved off any medical attention, so Tebby strapped him in on the bench and then climbed into the copilot's seat. He knew something was amiss, as the ride was getting rougher, and Bowles' face betrayed concern. He heard his CO speak up through the radio.<p>

_"Shit, I'm getting a lot of movement in these pedals, Tebby. Check the pistons again."_

Unseen by the pilot and his gunner, the Little Bird's rotor was spinning off-center like a broken top, until one of the spinning blades connected with the tailfin. The impact sheared off the rotors one by one, then with an explosive pop the last blade broke.

Immediately Bowles knew something was wrong, as the Little Bird's 'bitching betty' klaxon was sounding.

"Fuck! This is Bravo Six, we have lost the tail rotor, tail rotor's gone."

He turned to Tebby.

"I'll slow this Bird down and get us as close to the ground as possible. I need you to bail with our passenger and hoof it back to the parapet!"

The corporal's eyes widened.

"But sir!"

"That's an order, corporal! This Bird's going down and there ain't a goddam thing you can do about it. Get the fuck out of this Bird and get our passenger back to friendly lines!"

* * *

><p>Crosby's heart sank as he heard Bowles' voice over the radio, abnormally calm as he watched the Little Bird spin out of control leaving a black plume of smoke behind it. It was heading right back for No Man's Land.<p>

_"This is Bravo Six going down, going down hard."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant watched as the wounded craft banked hard and out of sight, and a moment later he heard a crash and explosion, followed by cloud of black smoke. He heard Alex's voice come through.

_"Bravo Six is down, I say again Bravo Six is down."_

Crosby heard the young sniper trying to keep the emotion out of his voice as he reported the crash. He heard Gordon's voice com in over the radio.

_"Shit! Any sign of survivors?"_

Alex's voice came through the static.

_"I saw two bodies bail before Bravo Six went down, looks like the Griffon Guard captain and the other is a 33rd soldier, can't tell if it's Tebby or Bowles. Both are attempting to secure Bravo Six's crash site. Enemies are inbound."_

He heard Gordon speak up.

_"Sergeant, I'm taking a squad into the killzone to recover the survivors of Bravo Six, be advised we will need covering fire."_

"Gordon! That's fucking suicide! We don't even know if they're alive."

He heard the Heavy Trooper chuckle.

_"Your objections are noted, sergeant, but my order stands. Every second we lose might mean the difference between bringing our boys home alive or in a body bag. Stand by to provide covering fire, we move out in five mikes."_

Crosby tried to raise Konrad on the radio, but then he heard a distant roar, like the wind howling in the middle of a hurricane, and his heart sunk. A shadow blotted out what little light was left, it grew in size as the creature that cast the shadow flew lower and lower, circling the battlefield like a massive bat. A terrifying dragon covered in red scales and horny protrusions landed hard on the ground right in front of the parapet. The dragon dug its claws into the parapet and let out a deafening roar. That alone didn't faze the remaining soldiers of the 33rd and their Tristainian allies, but what happened next turned their blood to ice in their veins. The creature spoke.

**"Hin Bo Daan Konrad! I have come for you, John Konrad!"**

The dragon roared and unleashed a blazing stream of fire from its mouth, setting the last Gatling gun emplacement ablaze.

**"Golt Fen Ru Sahqo Voth Sos Do Hin Muz! The ground today will run red with the blood of your men, Konrad, until my vengeance is sated!"**

Crosby shook his head and summed the day up with two words.

"Well, fuck."

_(AN: Did I mention that War is Hell? Kind of funny how quickly the tide of battle can turn and how things can go pear-shaped so quickly. Couple of things, there is a reason that Konrad and co couldn't reach Bravo Zero on the radio, which will be explained in the next chapter, also we will find out about Tebby and Bowles' fate, so you won't be in suspense for long. Finally I'd like to give kudos to Trainalf to help with this and the other battle sequences, I hope you enjoyed them. Next chapter should be up by the end of the week since I've already stubbed them out, and the following three or four chapters will conclude this first battle. Then we get to deal with the after-effects of war, goody! Until then!)_


	83. Airspace Control

_(So, you were wonder where the hell Saito and his Blackhawk were, and more importantly why the 33__rd__ couldn't raise him on the horn, now you will know! And for those of you who (understandably) found it weird to have the pinkette riding along in Bravo Zero, now you'll know why.)_

Sir Wauton approached Oliver Cromwell carefully. The leader of the Reconquista and self-proclaimed Emperor of Albion had been in a dark mood since he had received word of his close friend Sir Percival dying ignominiously at the hands of the Outworlders and their weapons. He cleared his throat, and Cromwell turned to face him.

"Lord Cromwell, the latest battle reports show that our military force has suffered three thousand casualties and that number is still rising. With the loss of the 10th Hussars our dragon rider numbers have been reduced to less than one hundred."

The Albion noble expected shock, or volcanic anger from his lord. But Cromwell reacted the one way that Sir Wauton didn't expected. He sighed and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter."

"My Lord?"

Cromwell turned back to gaze on the horizon.

"It doesn't matter how high the butcher's bill is, Sir Wauton. The Tristainians have lost, they just don't know it yet."

He looked to the massive ironclad dreadnaught, dwarfing Cromwell's flagship as it sailed alongside it. One volley, Cromwell thought, one volley is all it would take from this dreadnaught's guns to crush Tristainia's army and their Outworlder enablers. A sustained attack would level the entire city and everything in it. Instead in his hubris, Cromwell thought they could humiliate Tristain and that brat ruler with a show of ground force.

Cromwell lowered his eyes and whispered under his breathe.

"You were right, old friend. You were right."

"Sir?"

His subordinate's voice jarred the Reconquista leader from his reverie. When he turned to Sir Wauton, Cromwell's face was set as if in granite.

"Wait until Nahkriin has finished having his revenge on the Outworlders, then signal Captain Waterloo aboard the dreadnaught to dive into firing range of Tristainia. When I give the signal, the captain is to come about and fire every gun at that city until it is a smoldering wreck, or until he runs out of gunpowder, whichever comes first."

The Albion nobles eyes widened with shock.

"B-but sir! Our men, we still have footmen in the field!"

Cromwell held up a forestalling hand.

"They are already dead, Sir Wauton, whether they die by those heathen Outworlders' guns or our own is a moot point. But, if it will help ease your conscience, know that I have already given the order to Captain Waterloo and he knows what needs to be done."

He looked back down to the ground, so far away.

"May Percy and Brimir forgive my hubris, for much blood has been shed today because of it."

Suddenly, Cromwell heard a familiar noise, like the chopping sound of blades cutting through air. He squinted through the haze of the clouds and could make out a dark shape.

* * *

><p>"Repeating, this is Bravo Zero to anyone who can hear on this frequency, do you copy, over?"<p>

Saito keyed off the mic and shook his head. Since he took his chopper into the clouds to evade a particularly large dragon rider, he had been unable to reach anyone on the radio. Only static greeted him. He hoped that Bravo Six was okay, and that Crosby-san hadn't become a casualty. Suddenly the air off to his left exploded in a ball of magic energy. Saito looked off to the side and saw the large dragon rider had found them.

"Crap! Hang on Louise!"

He jerked the cyclic off to the right to dodge another attack, sending the Black Hawk helicopter banking sharply. Saito noted with satisfaction that the next fireball attack went wild, but then he heard the plaintive screech of his other passenger.

"Idiot! I almost fell out of this loud contraption!"

Saito paused momentarily to look back at Louise. She was sitting on the floor, flushed with several bruises on her knees and elbows. The Tokyo teen shook his head.

"What part of 'hold on' didn't you get? Now get back on that minigun I need you to take that dragon rider out before he takes us out!"

Louise shook her head emphatically.

"I can't!"

"What?"

"I told you, I can't! That repeating cannon won't fire, no matter how hard I push the buttons!"

Saito cursed again. Either the minigun had run dry, and he couldn't remember if Colbert had cast a replenishing spell on it, or it had overheated. Whatever the case, he was now a sitting duck. Then another idea hit him.

"Use one of your spells!"

The pinkette looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"But how?!"

Whether it was her persistent whining or the stress of the battle, Saito snapped.

"For fuck's sake! All those times whenever I was staring at other girls or wearing those idiotic pimp glasses you let off spells that would level a mountain, and now, now when we're both about to be blown to bits you're telling me you can't!?"

For a moment Saito thought his taunts would work, he saw Louise lose her temper. Having been her familiar for as long as he had, he knew all the warning signs of Mt. St. Louise erupting; a twitch of the right eye, the vein popping in her forehead, the trembling hands balling into fists. Then she did something unexpected and cried. But before Saito could snap her out of it, there was another explosion, and this one was close enough to cause the entire Blackhawk to shake.

"Shit! Louise, get up here and get strapped in!"

As the pinkette clambered over to the copilot's seat he increased the chopper's engine speed on the collective, causing the RPM indicator to creep dangerously towards the red. Then his multifunction screen went blank.

"Are you kidding me?"

But then the screen lit up again, with an image of someone very familiar.

"Hey there partner! Long time no see!"

Saito was stunned; there in the screen was an image of Derflinger, or at least the hilt. But the sword was destroyed in his fight with Fouquet's Earth golem on the Vallière estate. Before he could respond the apparition of the sword's hilt clattered and continued to speak.

"Partner, I know of a spell that the Walking IED can use!"

Then the multifunction screen on the copilot's side went blank, then glowed with an odd-looking rune.

"This spell should do the trick to get rid of that pesky dragon!"

Louise stared at screen and shook her head.

"B-but I can't! That's a Rune for the Void spell of Destruction!"

"Which should be easy for someone like you, seein' as you're a Void Mage."

She was speechless, so the apparition continued.

"Aw geez Louise do I hafta draw you a picture? `Cuz I already did, but let me spell it out for ya; the reason your magical spells keep blowing up and people think you're a Zero with magic is because the basic rudimentary spell of a Void Mage is the spell of Destruction. Using Void magic without properly channeling it is like trying to bake a cake with gunpowder. With the same explosive results."

Louise still was in shock.

"B-but it's not possible!"

It would seem impossible that a sword could get irritated, but somehow it came through in Derflinger's voice.

"Well, if ya don't believe me, try it and see for yourself!"

"But if I botch the spell…"

"…then you'll blow us up about four and a half seconds before that Dragon Rider does!"

Saito cut in.

"I don't mean to rush you, but we're a sitting duck out here. Go for it!"

Louise took a deep breath, and raised her wand. As she uttered the word that the rune represented, she could feel the power of the Void coursing through her body, and it felt as natural as breathing.

'It makes sense now!' Louise thought to herself, 'the others, my classmates, even my friends, all called me a Zero because of I kept botching the spells, but Deflinger is right! I feel this magic, and it is a part of me.'

A blinding bolt of energy flew from the tip of her wand, passed through the Blackhawk's windscreen, and connected elite dragon rider. There was a blinding flash, then both dragon and rider were no more. Saito marveled at the sight from his side, and looked over to Louise to congratulate her, but she seemed out of it. Her head was lowered and her pink hair was curtaining over her face. Louise felt lightheaded, as if she had been lying down and just sat up suddenly. She felt as if her energy had been sapped, and wondered if this was a side-effect of the spell. Her thoughts were interrupted by her familiar shouting at her.

"Mission control to Louise! You should see this!"

Whatever angry retort she had readied for Saito died in her throat as the clouds in front of them parted and a gargantuan shadow filled the windscreen. Saito was the first to speak.

"Holy crap, what is that?"

Again, the image of Derflinger appeared in the multifunction screen in front of the teen.

"Sweet rusty bedsprings! I haven't seen anything like that in all my 6,000 years. Looks like an ironclad warship, jeez the windstone magic they're using to propel that thing is off the chart!"

Saito looked down at the clattering hilt in his screen.

"You mean, that's all magic?"

"Yep, partner, that's all magic no fossil fuels or sails. No wonder yer radio doesn't work, I'm surprised anything would with all the residual magic that thing's putting off."

The Tokyo teen squinted through the windscreen as they got closer to the massive dreadnaught. Sudden he noticed a flash of orange coming from the forward bow of the warship. It only took him a second to recognize it.

"Incoming fire! Brace for evasive maneuvers!"

He jerked the cyclic hard and the bird's engines roared and it's airframe screeched in protest as Saito pushed the Black Hawk's limits to avoid the incoming barrage. A cannonball the size of a boulder roared past them, the air it displaced buffeted the chopper and the Tokyo teen struggled to regain control. Derflinger's apparition clattered again.

"One more volley like that and we're all toast!"

Then the sword popped up again in front of Louise's copilot chair.

"Hey, Miss Walking IED, there's a very special spell I want ya to see. Stand by."

Then three runes appeared in the windscreen in front of Louise, and her already large eyes widened.

"This-this is a Void spell, but I've never seen one like it before."

Derflinger popped up again.

"Yep, that's because the last time it was used by my old partner, who was a really powerful Void Mage. He called it the Void Spell of Mass Destruction."

It seemed as if the sword's image could see Saito's eyes rolling.

"Hey, I said he was a powerful mage I didn't say he was good about naming stuff."

The imaged flashed back over to Louise's screen.

"Be ready when I give ya the signal."

The pinkette nodded once, and then Derf flashed back over to Saito's screen.

"Partner, I'm gonna need you to get us in close, and I mean close enough to give them a shave with your blades. Think you can do that?"

Saito smiled.

"Why not? No time like the present!"

He pushed the cyclic stick forward and pulled up on the collective to give them more speed, and the Black Hawk closed the distance between them and the giant warship.

* * *

><p>"Tell the starboard batteries to reload, Lord Cromwell wants that Outworlder airship destroyed!"<p>

Captain Waterloo stood on the observation deck of the Reconquista's most powerful weapon. He had received word from his leader to destroy the airship lest they try and warn the others on the ground and give up the element of surprise. The captain was impressed by whoever was piloting that airship, as it nimbly dodged a volley that even the most skilled dragon rider couldn't.

He looked back down at the gunnery crew.

"Fire again!"

* * *

><p>"Oh shit! Everybody hold on!"<p>

Saito pulled back hard on the cyclic, and the chopper reared up like a bucking horse. Another boulder-sized cannonball barely missed them, and Saito fought to prevent the Black Hawk from going into a stall. He shouted over to Louise.

"What's taking so long on that spell?!"  
>The pinkette paused in her chanting and glared at Saito.<p>

"Idiot! This spell is a Triangle Spell, it requires much mental preparation!"

Deflinger reappeared in the screen in front of her.

"C'mon, keep concentrating! You won't need yer wand for this one, when you fell ready just close your eyes and recite the words. A truly powerful mage will feel the power of the Void flowing through them."

* * *

><p>Captain Waterloo raised his spyglass to get a closer look at the airship. There it was; an airship fashioned out of green metal being held aloft with spinning blades. The craft was both sleek and boulbous at the same time, with two viewports in the front that looked so much like eyes. Waterloo marveled that something so gangly and ugly could be flying, then something caught his eye. There were runes glowing in one of the forward viewports, and crackling energy seemed to flow around the airship's nose. When the danger dawned on Captain Waterloo he immediately shouted out.<p>

"Helmsman! Evasive maneuvers, hard to port!"

* * *

><p>Whatever the pinkette was chanting it must be working, Saito thought to himself. He could see blue energy crackling around the windscreen and the airframe at the Blackhawk's nose. The magical energy seemed to be converging around the chopper's nose refueling port, and it began to glow. His old partner the sword popped up again on the screen in front of him.<p>

"Hang on to something, partner, this is gonna be legendary…and possibly dangerous."

"What!? What happened the last time, when you old partner used it?"

The sword seemed to chuckle.

"Well, he used it to destroy this mountain fortress that belonged to an ancient evil, and ended up taking the mountain out with it."

Saito's eyes widened, and he checked to make sure his restraining harness was in place and pulled the straps even tighter. The Louise opened her eyes, and spoke three words.

"ANUZ, KAVUZ, ISUZ!"

* * *

><p>Cromwell had been frantically shouting to his signal-master to get their ships away from the small airship. As a Void Mage himself he recognized the Ancient Spell of Doom runes that were glowing in a triangular formation in the airship's forward viewport, and he knew it would probably destroy itself and anything in the near vicinity.<p>

"Helmsman, I want as much distance between us and that infernal Outworlder airship as possible and I want it this instant!"

Then a larger rune appeared over the Outworlder's airship, and a beam of pure blue energy burst forth from the barrel like protrusion on the nose of the craft. Time crawled to a standstill, and Cromwell watched helplessly as the beam struck the ironclad warship. There was blinding flash, and for a brief instant the entire sky was lit up by a thousand suns, and the ensuing blast threw Cromwell and everyone else on the observation deck of his personal airship off their feet.

When the leader of the Reconquista pulled himself to his feet, his ears still ringing from the blast and his eyes still adjusting, he quickly looked over to see what sort of damage the spell had inflicted on his precious secret weapon. The sight that greeted Cromwell shook him to his core. Where once the massive ironclad dreadnaught now there was nothing. No debris field, no smoke or fire, nothing that even hinted that a gargantuan warship was there a moment ago. It was as if it were obliterated out of existence.

Quickly Cromwell looked over to where the Outworlder's airship was, but it was nowhere to be found. The icy knot of fear in his heart was replaced by a burning anger and desire for revenge. He spun around and grabbed his still disoriented adjunct by the lapels.

"Sir Wauton, I want you to send a signal down to whatever ground forces we have left down there. I want Tristiania to burn!"

_(AN: So in the manga and the anime there was something very similar to what happened here, which is why Louise was accompanying Saito on this little excursion. Hopefully it made sense, and not too overwrought. Next chapter should be up in a week or so, possibly by this weekend as I've already stubbed it out.)_


	84. A Line, Held

_(AN: Theoretically this should have been in A Bridge Too Far, but since it features Special Agent Daniels, aka Nahkriin I figured he needed his own chapter. In hindsight I really should have put Airspace Control after this chapter, since this precedes the previous chapter, as will become evident.)_

_"Fuck! Who the fuck invite Tall, Red and Scaly to the party?!"_

Crosby had no idea who was uttering the cluster F bomb, it sounded like Alex but he couldn't be sure. The large red dragon called Nahkriin had climbed on top of the parapet and was systematically tearing the barrier apart with its claws and fire-blasts. The creature let loose another blast that destroyed another Gatling gun emplacement.

The Zulu Squad sergeant took cover and cursed.

"Shit! We have another Gatling gun down. Zippo Truck why the hell haven't you retreated yet?! Get the fuck ou of there and fall back!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant and Gordon had taken the survivors to the sandbagged emplacement that was the gate's last defense. Crosby pulled one straggling Sharpshooter into cover and shouted into his radio.

"Colbert didn't you hear me? I say again, fall back!"

He saw the refueler truck turned flamethrower tremble as the diesel engine rumbled to life, and it edged backwards, only to come to a stop after a few feet. Crosby raised his binoculars and saw the rear wheels spinning and mud getting kicked up. He spoke into his radio again.

"Zippo Truck it looks like you're stuck pretty good. Get to ground, we will provide covering fire, when I give you the order you fall back to our position, do you copy?"  
>There was a pause of a few long minutes before the professor's voice came through the static.<p>

_"Sir Crosby, Mr. Levassor refuses to leave the truck, he still thinks he can get it unstuck."_

Crosby shook his head.

"Listen Colbert, you tell that shit to get the fuck out of there or I'll come over there myself and shoot him myself after I've dragged him to safety, do you understand?"

_"Understood, Sir Crosby."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant switched channels on his radio.

"Bravo Six-Two, Delta Three, can either of you put eyes on the crash site and do you have a visual on any survivors?"

Alex's voice was the first to come up, he seemed unnaturally calm.

_"Negative, sir. No sign of survivors."_

The older soldier shook his head. PFC Alex Walker sounded as monotone as the day he signed up for the Little Bird squadron as 'Joe the Sniper.' His thoughts were interrupted by Lugo's voice piping up.

_"Iceman I have a visual on the crash site and it looks like two friendlies close by."_

Good, thought Crosby. At least someone was still alive.

"Any chance you can provide close air support?"

_"I can try, sarge. But as close the Reconquista is, I don't think I'd want to risk it."_

Their conversation was interrupted by another blast from the large red dragon. The parapet was almost completely destroyed. If Nahkriin succeeded there would be nothing to stop the hundreds of Reconquista soldiers in No Man's Land from overrunning their position and storming the gates.

"Understood Delta Three, but if it's not too much trouble could you please at least try to take out this large red oversized iguana parked outside our poz?"

He heard Lugo chuckle over over that quip.

_"Roger that sarge, stand by for barrage."_

* * *

><p>Tebby was slowly retreating towards the parapet, with Sir Thibault, still injured at the advancing Reconquista soldiers. The corporal turned and fired another burst at the advancing enemy soldiers to keep them at bay, then looked over at the guard. Sir Thibault limped forward, his face caked with dirt and dried blood, and the younger corporal knew that their time was running out.<p>

"Listen, Sir Thibault we can't make the parapet at this rate and you need medical attention. I'll provide you covering fire, you need to get to the parapet, understand?"

The chevalier shook his head and spoke.

"No, no, I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself for me. Though you were not born a noble through your courage and valor you have demonstrated that you are worthy of my respect. As such I cannot allow you to die for my account."

He drew his rapier with his free hand and saluted Tebby.

"Today, Corporal Tebby, we with either both survive or we will die together. It will be my honor to fight and die beside you."

The corporal didn't know what to say, but nodded, and both slowly retreated against the oncoming Reconquista soldiers. get behind him as he fired Bowles' UMP-45 at the incoming Reconquista soldiers. He spoke into his radio.

"To anybody on this frequency who can hear, this is Corporal Jebediah Tebby, I have survived the crash of Bravo Six, I am currently in No Man's Land with wounded, need immediate evac, over!

And then he heard a roar and a shadow blotted out the sky. Tebby looked up and saw a large red dragon circling overhead.

"Fuck! Who the fuck invited him to the party?!"

* * *

><p>Both the Zulu Squad sergeant and the Heavy Trooper watched helplessly as the dragon pounced on the stricken Zippo Truck. Colbert had tried to buy a few seconds by unleashing a torrent of fire at Nahkriin when it landed on the parapet but to no avail. The dragon whipped its tail around, sending the truck tumbling over as if it were just a toy. Crosby saw the professor get thrown from his perch on top of the truck and land in the mud. To his credit Colbert wasted no time and crawled through the mud to get to cover. As he climbed over the sandbags, he gave Crosby a tired smile, only to have a sudden look of shock and pain on his face. Colbert slumped forward, an arrow protruding from his back. The older soldier heard Gordon shout over the din.<p>

_"Incoming! We have incoming Reconquista archers and footmen! Everyone take cover!"_

Crosby shouted into his radio.

"Where the fuck is my covering fire! Come on Delta Three, I want that big fucker dead!"

He didn't hear Lugo reply through the radio, but Crosby did get a response. The ground around Nahkriin erupted as 25mm shells impacted around it. Amazingly, none of the bullets connected with their intended target, the dragon was just too fluid in its movements. One burst hit it in the middle of its tail, and for a moment Crosby was hopeful as he saw black steaming blood seep from a shallow crater dug by the shell. But it was dashed in an instant as Nahkriin snarled in pain.

**"Foolish little men! I cannot be killed by your weapons of fire and violence! I will not stop until all of your have tasted the pain of my revenge!"**

* * *

><p>Lugo cursed. The dragon showed up bright white in his targeting screen but every time he pulled the trigger in the lag time behind when the GAU-12 gatling gun fired and when the shots connected the creature moved, and the shots detonated around it. He looked over to the cockpit and shouted at the pilot.<p>

"Dammit, Darden come left, come more left! I can't hit this fucker!"

* * *

><p>"Delta Three, Ghostrider, where the fuck is my fucking covering fire!?"<p>

There nothing but static that greeted Crosby. He ducked as another blast hit their sandbag emplacement. Once the bullets stopped flying Nahkriin had focused its anger on the last line of defense before the gate. Worse, scores of Reconquista footmen were streaming into the gap in the destroyed parapet, and they were unleashing a relentless barrage of arrows at any of the Sharpshooters still exposed.

Crosby watched as two more Sharpshooters fell to arrows, then another blast hit in the middle of their emplacement, sending the Tristainian soldiers in cover flying in all directions. When the dust settled there was a gaping hole in their perimeter, and Crosby could see bodies lying everywhere, including some that were still barely alive and crying out in pain. Those that were still alive and exposed were peppered with arrows.

He cursed to himself again, they had men down here that they couldn't drag into cover without getting hit by the dragon or the Reconquista. They had men down in the field that they couldn't get to without going through several hundred enemy soldiers and a large angry red dragon. And their numbers were being slowly whittled down by the enemy soldiers advancing on their position and the aforementioned big red dragon. And Crosby was helpless to stop any of this. As long as they were pinned down by this dragon they couldn't do anything. Even when he left cover briefly to let loose a barrage of rocket propelled grenades he was barely able to escape the wrath of Nahkriin.

Briefly the Zulu Squad sergeant ducked out of cover again, this time just long enough to fire a grenade at the dragon. An explosion detonated on the creature's armored belly, and did little more than annoy it.

**"Miserable little man, your fire will not burn me as you burned me before!"**

The dragon reared its head back up.

**"You can still save some of your men, Konrad! Zu'u fen vos hin muz lahney, waan hi miik hinmaar wah zey ol zahrahmiik, If you offer yourself to me I will spare the rest of your men."**

It let loose another blast that blew apart another section of the sandbag emplacement.

**"If you will not submit, I will kill them all and then come for you!"**

Someone thudded next to Crosby, taking cover. He looked over and saw Gordon strapping his helmet back on. He set down his AA-12 shotgun.

"Sergeant! Hand me your grenade launcher!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Are you fucking nuts, sir? Taking that bastard on singlehandedly is suicide!"

He ducked as another blast hit their emplacement. Gordon spoke more urgently.

"One more hit from that dragon and we lose all our cover, when we lose this cover we're dead. We can't just sit here and wait for that to happen. Maybe if I get close enough to him I can do some damage with this or one of the frag grenades."

Crosby smiled thinly.

"It's still a stupid idea, with all due respect, sir."

The lieutenant flipped the visor down on his helmet.

"Of course it's a stupid idea, but it's the only one we got now. I'm going to take that bastard out, but if I don't I'll at least buy you enough time to get behind the gates, you bar those gates and throw everything you got at it, understood?"

Crosby said nothing but unslung his grenade launcher and tossed it to the Heavy Trooper.

"Roger that, sir. Good luck."

Gordon winced as a deafening explosion buffeted them. He peered out from cover to see that Gun One had been destroyed, and secondary explosions as the AA gun's ammo cooked off. He hoped some of the Tristianian soldiers were able to flee. He steeled himself, flipped down his visor and spoke into his radio.

"I'm going into the killzone! Cover me!"

He heard Crosby shout the order for covering fire, and he waded into the Reconquista soldiers.

* * *

><p>Darden heard Lugo's voice on his headset.<p>

"Come left, come more left, I need that big ugly in my crosshairs and he's slipperier than an eel."

The Radioman pulled the flight yoke and the large AC-130 gunship banked sharper to the left. Then something caught Darden's eye, and he squinted through the clouds that was their cover in the sky. He could have sworn he saw a shape that looked like Bravo Zero, but he wasn't sure. Then he saw a massive shape appear in his windscreen.

"Oh crap."

He spoke into his radio.

"Um, guys? I know you all are real busy right now, but we've has run into a bit of a problem up here."

He heard Crosby's irritable voice come through the static.

_"Dammit Ghostrider, in case you missed the giant red dragon, we have a big damn problem of our own down here! I need that close-air support stat! No excuses!"_

The Radioman saw a flash of orange and smoke come from the ironclad, and he jerked the aircraft's yoke hard to the left. The AC-130 banked almost to a 90 degree angle to avoid the boulder-sized cannonball, he then frantically spoke into his radio.

"Well, not sure if this qualifies but I have just run across the biggest fucking battleship I've seen, and if it's welcome is anything to go off of, it's Reconquista."

He paused, waiting for Crosby's caustic reply, but only heard static.

"Um, Iceman, this is Ghostrider, did you copy my last?"

There was still nothing but static.

"Ah, Crosby, sarge ol' buddy, are you still there?"

He looked over his shoulder to Lugo.

"Hey, can you raise anyone on the horn?"

Lugo shook his head.

_"Nope, got nothing on this end, must be some sort of interference."_

Their conversation was interrupted by an explosion that shook the plane to its rivets.

_"Shit! What the fuck was that?"_

Darden fought with the controls and glanced out the side window.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind looking out the window to the left side of our aircraft you will notice that the port outboard engine in ON FIRE!"

Darden shook his head.

"Screw this, we're outta here."

_"Wait! Dammit Darden we can't just leave them!"_

The Radioman pulled sharply to the right to avoid another volley from the ironclad.

"Sorry, Pedobear, up here we're a sitting duck with that thing, and I'm not going to get blown out of the sky. You can fink on me to the Old Man when this is all over."

He shrugged.

"Assuming any of us survive."

* * *

><p>Gordon fired continuously and carved a bloody path through the Reconquista archers and footmen. He shrugged off their arrows and he barely felt their blades break against his reinforced Heavy Trooper armor. He turned his head to the side and up to check on his intended target. The red dragon was currently taunting their CO again, and didn't appear to notice the Heavy Trooper wading through the Reconquista soldiers. Gordon turned and looked over to where the wrecked refueler truck was.<p>

Their Zippo Truck was out of action and lying on its side, but as damaged as it was it still would provide ample cover. Gordon saw one Reconquista knight charge towards him, and he sidestepped the enemy's thrust attack and clubbed him with the grenade launcher. He took cover behind the truck's roof, and waited to take his shot.

* * *

><p>Tebby felt Sir Thibault slip from his grasp, and he paused in shooting long enough to glance down at the wounded soldier. The chevalier had lost a lot of blood from an arrow wound to his collarbone. There was nothing he could do but leave it in, it must have hit a major vein. Suddenly the corporal felt a sudden buring pain in his upper arm. Tebby looked over and saw an arrow jutting out, it caught him right where the shoulders of his PALS vest ended and had buried itself deep into his bicep muscle. He raised his UMP-45 and fired another burst, killing the offending crossbow archer before he could get off another shot. He looked back down at Sir Thibault, who shook his head and rasped out one word.<p>

"Leave me."

Tebby shook his head.

"Not happening."

The chevalier propped himself up by his elbow, and raised the M9 pistol Tebby gave him. He fired twice, killing another mage that had appeared in the fog.

"They are overtaking us, and I am slowing you down. You must leave me."

Tebby crouched down by Sir Thibault.

"And I'm telling you that's not happening. No one gets left behind. Now come on."

He pulled the chevalier back to his feet, and Tebby could see that the wounded man was in a considerable amount of pain. He looked back over to the now-overrun parapet. It must be at least 100 yards away, and the dragon was blocking their way. He looked back to the front, and through the haze he could see hundreds of Reconquista soldiers closing in on their position. Sir Thibault was right. They wouldn't make it at this rate.

"Doesn't matter." Tebby said to no one in particular, "We'll make those bastards pay for every foot they gain on us."

* * *

><p>The dragon weaved it's body off to one side to dodge another rocket propelled grenade. It taunted the armored soldier that was hiding in the wreckage.<p>

**"Hah! Pathetic little rat, where are you hiding?"**

Gordon had taken cover behind the burning Zippo Truck and waited until the dragon's gaze passed over him. Nahkriin continued.

**"I will find you, rat, and when I do I will pry you out of your little shell and I will flense your flesh from bone! Your skull I will keep as a trophy!"**

The lieutenant could sense the creature was close, and unclipped his last frag grenade. He saw a massive shadow cast over the Zippo Truck and the No Man's Land. Carefully flipping up his visor, Gordon peered up and saw that the creature's head was right above him. He rolled out from cover.

Immediately Nahkriin's burning eyes swept down and saw the Heavy Trooper, and let out a roar of triumph. It didn't see the soldier pull the pin on a small round object. The creature's memory went back to its time when it was but a mere man, and then recognized it. Too late, Gordon threw the grenade and it sailed through the air into Nahkriin's mouth, which snapped shut as soon as the grenade went in. An instant later there was a deafening explosion and Nahkriin was thrown back, enveloped in a cloud of smoke and debris.

Crosby witnessed all this happening and couldn't believe it. Lt. Gordon's crazy gambit worked, the dragon took the bait. He saw the Heavy Trooper pull himself to his feet, and looked over. Gordon gave him the thumbs up, and Crosby started to climb up over the sandbag emplacement, when a loud roar of pain followed by a hurricane force wind buffeted the area, knocking him and everyone else off their feet.

Out of the roiling clouds came the red dragon, the entire side of its face burned and charred, but it was still whole. It opened its mouth wide and let out another roar, hurling small chunks of charred flesh and blood into the air.

**"FOOOOLS! YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME? I WILL BURN ALL OF YOU FOR THAT INSULT!"**

It swiped one of its massive claws at Gordon, and Crosby watched helplessly as the Heavy Trooper was thrown back, hitting what was left of the parapet.

Gordon fought to remain conscious, his ears were ringing, his vision swam. He could feel blood trickling inside his suit. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet and got his bearings. Off to the side he could see the grenade launcher, still intact. He slowly and painfully limped over to where the grenade launcher was. Then he felt burning pain in his right shoulder and an overwhelming force pushed him down into the mud.

Nahkriin, stalking the wounded Heavy Trooper, had him pinned to the ground with one of its claws. The creature raised its head again.

**"Konrad! This is your last chance to surrender, or I will kill this soldier where he lies! Come now and face your judgement!"**

Konrad lowered his head, but before he could react he saw a blur of blonde hair run past him. The colonel's eyes could barely register the elf Tiffania running to the edge of the wall, and before he could stop her, she jumped.

Nahkriin roared in triumph, but then its eyes caught a small figure jump off the wall and run across the battlefield towards it. At first, the small part of the creature's mind that was still rational couldn't believe it, it was a girl, a girl with long blonde hair and wearing a green dress. What sort of farce was this?

Tiffania was already running as soon as the infernal dragon uttered its ultimatum. She ignored the shouts and orders of Colonel Konrad, the pleas of the princess, and shook off the weak grip of her bodyguard. The elf girl knew what she had to do. As she approached the edge of the wall she took a flying leap into the air, and landed lightly on the ground, incredibly surviving the twenty foot jump off the fortified walls of Tristainia.

She barely felt the sharp rocks and debris cut her bare feet, her enhances olfactory senses could smell her blood but she still ignored it. She could barely see Sir Crosby in his fearsome black and white armor, frantically calling out to her, but she still ignored it. All of her focus was on her beloved, battered and broken, and in desperate need of her help. She ran past the stunned Reconquista soldiers who couldn't believe what they were seeing, ignoring them as well. She stopped in front of the red dragon Nahkriin, and wondered how many of its ancestors killed her people. For a brief moment she felt fear stab her heart, but with a shake of her head she dispelled the feeling, the burning love she felt for her beloved quashed any fear, to save him. Inwardly she whispered a prayer to the Goddess Sasha to grant her strength, and she inhaled sharply to take a deep breath.

* * *

><p>Crosby couldn't believe what he was seeing. The elf Tiffania first survived a leap off the walls that would have seriously injured anyone else, and now she was facing off with Nahkriin. He knew it was suicide, he had just watched the dragon shrug off several direct hits and take a grenade to the face, then delivered a massive curbstomping to a heavily armored soldier. She had ignored his calls out to her, and his warnings. Instead she stopped in front of the dragon, and hadn't moved. Suddenly without warning, she inhaled sharply, pushing out her already impressive bust, and cried out. An ear-splitting combination of a shout, scream and song echoed across the battlefield.<p>

_**JOOR ZAH FRUL!**_

Nahkriin could not believe the tiny elf girl had performed a Thu'um, one that it was not familiar with. But when the blast hit, the creature was struck with a burning sensation. It was pain incarnate, an overwhelming pain the likes of which it hadn't felt since its Lord and Master reshaped it into its current form. It could feel its very soul coming apart, and it lowered its massive head down to see the skin sloughing off its claws. The skin and its very soul were being sucked away, being drawn into the essence of the elf girl. Too late it knew the terrible power of the Thu'um.

**"Dragonrend? No! No! It's Not Possible! I HAVE NOT HAD MY VENGEANCE! Master! MASTER, PLEASE HELP! NOOOOOO!"**

Crosby watched as the red dragon disintegrated. There was no other word, as its essence seemed to be sucked away from it towards Tiffania. He heard the dragon roar out in pain and anguish, and then fall into a pile of desiccated bones. The Zulu Squad sergeant watched as Tiffania collapsed on top of Gordon's inert form and was already shouting orders.

"All remaining soldiers on me! Secure the new No Man's Land, we've got wounded in the field!"

The remaining dozen Sharpshooters formed up beside Crosby, and began taking shots at the remaining Reconquista soldiers. Wherever their bullets connected, archers would lose limbs or their lives in a bloody shower of gore. Crosby saw one Reconquista footman running up to him with a blade, and briefly he was reminded of the 33rd's own Bayonet Runners. The Zulu Squad sergeant easily blocked the footman's attack, grabbed the man by his neck and gave it a quick twist, he was rewarded by the sickening crunch of the man's 5th and 6th cervical vertebrae break. When he finally reached Gordon and Tiffania's form he shouted into his radio.

"Medic! Two friendlies down and need immediate attention! Medics converge on my poz we need to get them to cover!"

Briefly the Zulu Squad sergeant looked over to the pile of bones. At least that dragon was taken care of. Crosby saw the cloud light up with blue lightening, and then a second later heard an ear-splitting boom. Whatever was going on in the clouds wasn't pretty.

I sure hope Saito isn't up there, he said to himself. He saw two Tristainian healers approach with a stretcher cart. As he helped them lift the elf-girl and her lover onto the cart Crosby heard his radio crackle to life.

_"All surviving defenders this is Bravo Actual, retreat back behind the gate, repeating; all surviving units rendezvous at the gate and fall back. The outer defenses have fallen."_

Konrad took his thumb off the mic key and lowered his radio. They had held the line long enough, now it was time for the endgame. He raised his binoculars and saw hundreds if not a thousand Reconquista troops march relentlessly towards the gates of Tristain.

_(AN: And there you have it, a nice fat chapter and a bit of Chekov's Shout with the day being saved not by superior firepower, but the power of love…and a uber-powerful spell, as well :). Next chapter shouldn't take so long as this one, and the chapters should follow in rapid succession after that. Until next time!)_


	85. No Retreat, No Surrender

_(AN: And now the Damned 33rd make its last stand against the Reconquista. I recommend listening to 'The Bridge' track from Spec Ops: The Line's soundtrack for mood music.)_

"What?! Nahkriin is dead?"

Cromwell looked incredulously at Sir Wauton, who himself seemed uneasy delivering the bad news.

"I-I am sure of it, my lord. My runners tell me that the red dragon was defeated, defeated by the Jester's Golem."

The leader of the Reconquista couldn't process the information relayed. It was impossible. First their dreadnaught was destroyed by a random Void spell, now their other secret weapon was killed by the Outworlders? Impossible. His thoughts were interrupted by Sir Wauton speaking.

"We must withdraw, my lord. We have suffered heavy casualties, the battle is lost."

Cromwell's face contorted into a glare and he grabbed the Albion noble by the lapels of his jacket and lifted him up.

"This battle is over when I say it is over, Sir Wauton. I want you to relay this message to whomever is commanding the ground forces. They are to advance upon Tristainia and they are not to stop until the city is a smoldering wreck, is that understood?"

When Sir Wauton did not respond right away Cromwell continued.

"And furthermore, you are to tell the commander that any soldier in the Reconquista that retreats from battle is to be summarily executed, is that understood?"

The Albion noble nodded, sweating profusely.

"Y-yes mi'lord, it will be done as you say!"

* * *

><p>"All remaining units this is Bravo Actual have you secured the gate?"<p>

Colonel John Konrad drew his M9 pistol and checked to make sure there was a round in the tube. Crosby's voice came through the static on the radio.

_"__Ah, Bravo Actual stand by, we are falling back."_

There was a sound of gunfire overheard, and the colonel replied.

"Roger that, Iceman be advised enact Defensive Tactic Zulu, sound off when you are in position. Bravo Actual out."

Konrad lowered his radio and raised his binoculars to survey the field of battle. The sun had long gone, and now the sky was painted an angry blood-red, as if to reflect the battlefield's carnage below. So much death, and for what? So he could play the hero, and lose, again. The colonel's dismal thoughts were interrupted by a small voice behind him.

"Is there any hope?"

He lowered his binoculars and looked back Princess Henrietta, whose head was lowered.

"What?"

The princess looked up to Konrad and gestured with her scepter to the group below. Tristain's last line of defense was a motley mix of frightened students, commoners and the nervous remnants of Tristain's armed forces.

"There's less than fifty out there, plus whatever Sharpshooters Sir Crosby is bringing back, but there's still over a thousand Reconquista soldiers advancing."

Konrad smiled.

"So you have been listening in on our radio chatter."

Princess Henrietta returned his smile, but it was a fragile smile. She asked again.

"But you didn't answer my question, John Konrad. Is there any hope or is this our last stand?"

The colonel smiled ruefully.

"There was hope, early on. I hoped that our guns would scare the Reconquista into retreating, I hoped that our air-superiority would have turned the tides. As it turns out, it was a fool's hope."

He nodded his head over to the princess's bodyguards.

"This is the last stand of Tristain, and of the Damned 33rd, you should flee while you can."

She shook her head.

"No. Where would I go? If Tristainia falls, then what would I be if I wasn't there defending it?"

Konrad smiled, this time with more humor.

"You would be alive, for one thing. You could travel to Germania, they would help you, I'm sure of it."

He looked back over to the assembled troops and continued.

"In any case, you are mistaken if you took that for a request. I am telling you, as my betrothed, that you are not to perish here. You are to flee Tristainia and rally as much support as you can, from Romalia, from Germania, from anyone. You must endure, and survive, for my sake. "

He closed his eyes.

"I-I can't let you die."

Konrad opened his eyes, and, hearing soft sobs coming from the princess and unwilling to look back, instead looked down at his M9 hangun.

"I'm a soldier, and I've lived long enough. Truth be told I've already died once. So death really doesn't have any sway over me."

"I'm not afraid of dying."

He looked over to the princess, who wiped tears away from her shimmering blue eyes.

"But, I can't leave you and your men here to their fate. I would have failed you, and my subjects."

Konrad nodded.

"We have something in common, your Highness. Failure is something I am unfortunately very familiar with."

His radio interrupted their conversation.

_"__Bravo Actual, this is Iceman, we are in position. Gates are closed and barred, but it sounds like they've brought a large battering ram."_

He keyed his radio.

"Understood, Iceman. I'm on my way."

Konrad holstered his M9 and strode off to the side doors that led down to the square. He was stopped by a small hand, encased in a lavender glove, that clutched his forearm. He looked over to Henrietta, whose shimmering eyes gazed at him with the same adoration she had shown to him since day one but tinged with sadness. She said nothing, her eyes told Konrad everything. The colonel couldn't think of anything to say, so he gently took her hand off his arm, brought the hand to his lips. After kissing her hand he spoke a final two words.

"Farewell, Henrietta."

He left without another word.

* * *

><p>Crosby un-holstered his Desert Eagle and checked it again. Nobody could see the minute tremor in the Zulu Squad sergeant's hands as he pulled the slide back to verify again that there was a round in the chamber. He looked back over the gathered crowd, the last of Tristain's army making a last stand. It was a mixture of the surviving Sharpshooters, commoners, and even the students from the academy, all clutching rifles, shotguns and whatever other ranged weapon could be salvaged or scrounged. The Zulu Squad sergeant noticed one of the students, a girl with short blue hair and wearing glasses, was standing closest to him, and was only armed with a staff. He spoke to her.<p>

"You sure you don't want a rifle or pistol as a backup, Tabitha?"

She shook her head.

"No need."

Crosby considered the conversation done, since she was not a very talkative person. Which surprised him when she spoke again to him.

"Slyphid was injured, so I had her change back to human form to be treated."

She looked up at Crosby.

"Will you keep her safe? If something happens?"

Crosby gave Tabitha a reassuring smile.

"Not to worry, kid. We'll make sure your familiar is safe."

She lowered her eyes.

"I wish I could have said goodbye to her."

The older soldier looked shocked. This conversation with the blue-haired bookworm was the longest string of words he ever heard from Tabitha.

"Who?"

She raised her eyes again, and adjusted her glasses.

"Not important."

Crosby shrugged, but before he could parse out what she was saying he noticed Konrad descending down the steps. As the colonel approached, Crosby stood at attention and saluted.

"Colonel Konrad, we're all that's left of the Royal Tristainian Army."

Konrad nodded and looked over. True to what Henrietta said, there was less than sixty troops assembled, and it was a motley mix of nobles, peasants and students.

He looked over to Crosby.

"Sergeant, get everyone into position, the gate is going to fall soon."

"Roger that."

He turned and barked to the assembled motely group.

"Alright everyone to your places, you know the drill, snap to it!"

* * *

><p>Sir Wauton regarded the battlefield through his spyglass. The field was littered with the broken bodies, most of them Reconquista. Not for the first or last time that day the Albion noble wondered what sort of violent world these Outworlders must have come from that necessitated them using such barbaric weapons. He also noticed a large, fanged skull, all that was left of the mighty red dragon Nahkriin. Sir Wauton didn't know what sort of bargains the leader of the Reconquista had struck to obtain such a creature, but he knew there would be hell to pay for it. He noticed two large siege engines being rolled into place. Situated between the two constructs was a massive battering ram, strong enough to smash the gates of Tristainia.<p>

The noble turned his sights over to the gathered throng assembled behind the siege engines. Out of the seven thousand troops and personnel that departed Albion less than a thousand able-bodied soldiers remained. It was high butcher's bill, but Cromwell was right. No matter how many more men the Reconquista lost Tristain would still fall. There couldn't be more than a hundred defenders left inside the city walls, and they had lost most if not all of the Outworlder's weapons. It would be a massacre; Cromwell left orders that no one inside the walls was to be spared, save the princess and two Outworlders, preferably their leader, this enigmatic Konrad. Sir Wauton turned to his adjunct.

"Signal the men, as soon as the gates fall, all are to charge the breach. Tristainia must fall by dusk, any of our soldiers that retreat are to be executed on the spot, by order of Lord Cromwell himself."

* * *

><p>Crosby stood at the ready, clutching his CO's AA-12. He had his P90 slung on his back, but the submachine gun wouldn't nearly have the destructive effect of the Frag 12 reactive shells that the automatic shotgun could spew out. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash. The gates in front of them budged, and dust wafted down. He spoke into his radio.<p>

"Bravo Six-Two, this is Iceman, fall back and take up firing positions, gate is about to fall."

He heard his radio squawk as Alex acknowledged. Crosby looked back at the assembled troops. The front rank formed a horseshoe around the gate's opening, and had assumed a kneeling position, aiming their shotguns and Henri Martini rifles at the gate. Behind them a second rank formed up, standing and aiming their guns. Behind the second rank was an improvised elevated wall of sandbags, behind which the third and final rank stood hidden. Konrad stood next to that wall and barked out.

"Alright troops, remember we trained and drilled for this, it's absolutely imperative that you follow the orders to the tee. I have faith that you will, and if you follow those orders we will live to fight another day."

There was a second, louder crash as the iron-bound timber gates shuddered again. Cracks splintered along the seams where the wooden timbers were splitting apart. Crosby glanced back over at the front rank. He purposefully put as many Sharpshooters and 'veterans' on the front rank, since they required steely nerves to maintain formation and fire. He noticed one on the front rank closest to him was a rotund student who was sweating profusely. The student wide eyes were staring at the gate, as if expecting monsters to come streaming out of it.

"What's your name, kid?"

The student's head quickly swiveled towards the voice, it was Louise's bodyguard, the Outworlder she summoned with his fearsome black and white armor and cold blue eyes. He stammered out a response.

"I-it's Malicorne, sir. Malicorne de Grandpré, second year student."

Crosby nodded.

"Well, Malicorne de Grandpré, you need to loosen your grip on that rifle, otherwise your shot will go wide. Understand?"

The boy nodded.

"Um…sir?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled.

"It's sergeant, kid. I work for a living."

The student named Malicorne didn't get the joke, but continued.

"Sir-gent, why?"

Crosby looked puzzled.

"Why what?"

"Why does it have to be us? Why us?"

The older soldier shrugged.

"Because we're here, kid. And it's up to us to stop them."

Crosby looked back at the rest of the Sharpshooters, some of whom overheard his conversation with Malicorne.

"Make no mistake, gentlemen. Our backs are against a wall, and we either defeat them or die trying. There will be no retreat, and no surrender. We can't retreat because honestly there's nowhere to retreat to. We can't surrender because we've killed enough of theirs that they'll be baying for our blood even if we did lay down our arms. So make each shot count, and lets send these bastards back to Albion or Hell!"

There was a collective murmur of approval, and more rifles were held tightly, and formations closed up. A third crash echoed across the square, this one had a sharp boulder poke through the timber of the gates, and as it withdraw it pulled one of the gates down with it. The dust and debris cloud hadn't settled yet as Reconquista soldiers poured out of the hole and rushed through the narrow gateway towards the square.

"Hold your fire until they reach the opening!"

There was a mob of Reconquista footmen pushing through the narrow corridor and a handful spilled out into the square. Crosby aimed his AA-12 at the frontrunners and barked out a single command.

"Front rank, FIRE!"

A wall of lead traveled at the speed of sound into the first few Reconquista soldiers that had made it into the square, the bullets tore through armor, cut through flesh and muscle and splintered bones as they travelled through and slammed into the closely packed footmen still pushing through the narrow gateway. Before they could even react, Lt. McPherson aimed the salvaged MGL-32 grenade launcher and shouted in a loud voice.

"Second rank, FIRE!"

The second rank fired their rifles, and more high-caliber bullets cut through the mob of Reconquista soldiers, with those close quarters even the ones that weren't hit by bullets were injured by fragments of bone and lead. More footmen fell, dead and injured, and the ones that were now in the front ranks had hesitated for a deadly moment. It was then that Konrad barked out in his command voice.

"Rear rank, FIRE!"

Now the enemy footmen were in a panic, and more soldiers tried to push their way to the back in an effort to escape the Outworlder's deadly bullets. It was a foolish move, because more Reconquista soldiers were pushing to get through the gate from the rear of the column, and the ones pushing back created a bottleneck, effectively entrapping all of them. The Tristainian soldiers and the remnants of the Damned 33rd wasted no time to take the initiative. Konrad shouted out another order.

"All ranks, fire independently!"

* * *

><p>Sir Wauton stood by the ruined parapet and pushed some of the twisted metal with his boot. Another barbaric weapon of the Outworlders, the thin metal was coiled and covered with razor-sharp barbs that ensnared men and horses like flies in a web. He could hear weapons firing from inside the walls, but something seemed wrong. He was under the impression that although the footmen were pressing through the gap in the gates, that no progress was being made. Once they swept aside the paltry resistance inside it would be a dam bursting, there should be a rush of soldiers getting, but there wasn't. Something seemed wrong. He grabbed a lieutenant.<p>

"What is the problem, the gates have fallen, why hasn't Tristainia fallen?"

The senior ranking Reconquista soldier bowed.

"My lord, the Outworlders have set up a trap, our men are being slaughtered before they can even reach the enemy!"

Sir Wauton pushed the man back dismissively.

"Then have more men charge, you idiot! They will run out of bullets before you run out of men! See to it!"

* * *

><p>Crosby winced as a musketball glanced off his armored shoulder guard. He raised his AA-12 and killed the Reconquista Musketeer, and two more footmen. More enemy soldiers were pouring through the gate, and they were making headway. More of them were making it through the narrow gate opening. He looked over to McPherson, who was sporting a fresh gash to his head courtesy of a Reconquista poleaxe. The lieutenant gave Crosby a grim nod, and the sergeant nodded in returned. He turned back to the assembled soldiers and barked out another command.<p>

"Front rank, form up on me and secure the gate opening!"

He advanced forward, clubbing one enemy soldier. The butt of his automatic shotgun connected with the footman's face, and with a sickening wet crunch the enemy crumbled to the ground. Crosby finished him off with a stomp to the neck, and continued forward. He saw more of the Reconquista musketeers advancing and forming a firing line.

"Musketeers on the field, take them out, now!"

The Sharpshooters poured more fire into the advancing Reconquista soldiers, but several of the enemy soldiers got off shots from their muskets. Some footmen were trying to edge out of the killzone, and the Zulu Squad sergeant barked out another order.

"Flanking positions, now!"

Out of the corner of his eye Crosby saw several Sharpshooters from the front rank crumple, and he spoke into his radio.

"McPherson we need more backup, send the second rank up stat!"

Then there was a massive ball of fire that exploded right at the mouth of the gate, and Reconquista soldiers were burned and sent flying back. Crosby looked back and saw the redheaded student Kirche with her wand raised. She gave the older soldier a quick wink and fired off another flame spell. He spoke into his radio again.

"Bravo Six-Two, can you put eyes on what the enemy numbers are like outside? We're getting swamped here."

He heard Alex's unnaturally calm voice through the radio.

_"Roger that, stand by."_

Crosby fired another burst at some Reconquista crossbowmen that got too close just as they were cranking up their weapons. Then Alex's voice spoke up through the static.

_"__Be advised Iceman, there still is beaucoup badguys out there."_

"Bravo Six-Two can you put a number on it?"

There was a pregnant pause on the other end, and when Alex spoke again it made all three of the 33rd soldiers' hearts collectively sink.

_"__Ah, be advised total enemy numbers outside the gate is over five hundred. And they're pushing to get in."_

Crosby looked back at their own numbers and shook his head. The Reconquista was paying dearly for every foot they took, but with each Tristainian casualty they made more headway. The Zulu Squad sergeant determined they lost ten soldiers already, and with each gun that went down it made the Reconquista's job easier to kill them. There was no way around it, they were going to be overrun, and Tristainia would fall.

He then spoke into his radio with the cold, detached manner that made the reputation of his fellow Zulu Squad soldiers.

"Acknowledged. Taking heavy casualties, Bravo Six-Two you are to fall back and evac HVP, we'll buy you time."

He was shocked when he heard the young sniper chuckle.

_"__Ah, that's a negative, sergeant. I am holding position and taking as many of these bastards with me as I can. This is Bravo Six-Two, signing off."_

He spoke on the wide frequency, even though it was intended for one person.

_"__It's been an honor, colonel, sir."_

Then Crosby heard a deafening explosion, but this one came from outside the gates and wondered what it was.

* * *

><p>Saito peered down though the plexiglass bubble at his feet at the destruction Louise's spell wreaked. At least a hundred Reconquista soldiers were blown to bits by her Void spell of Destruction.<p>

"Wow, that was amazing!"

He looked over to the pinkette, who was flushed, and looked faint.

"Are you alright? Louise?"

She didn't respond and her chin dipped to her chest, sending her pink hair cascading over the cyclic and the instrument panel. Derflinger's image appeared in Saito's multifunction screen.

"Whoa partner she needs to take it easy on those spells! Those things are powerful but very draining to the mage, especially if they haven't practiced."

Saito looked back down at the throng of Reconquista soldiers. They were pushing through the gateway. The teen looked past the gate at the town square where the surviving members of the Tristainian army were assembled. There couldn't have been more than fifty down there, and if the Reconquista pushed through they would be massacred.

"C'mon Louise! You gotta do just one more spell! Colonel Konrad and Crosby-san are down there, they'll be killed if we don't do something!"

Derflinger's clattering interrupted Saito's rant.

"Hey buddy, she can't hear ya, she's out of it."

The pinkette was still slumped down, her head lolling against the co-pilot's headrest. Derflinger spoke up again.

"I'll take control of this contraption, you wake her up!"

Saito nodded, and let go of the cyclic stick. The Black Hawk shuddered briefly, but then righted itself and was in a smooth hover. Deflinger popped up again in the screen.

"Well, hurry up, partner!"

The teen slipped the catch on his safety harness and reached over, shaking the pinkette by the shoulder, but to no avail. He looked back over at Derflinger's image.

"She's not waking up!"

The sword clattered again, but this time it sounded like a chuckle.

"Tell me, partner, y'ever read the fairy tale about the princess being woken up from an enchanted sleep by the prince?"

Saito blushed immediately, in spite of the situation.

"B-but I-I..."

His stammering was interrupted by the talking sword.

"Listen partner, it ain't like you haven't done it before! And you said it yourself, lives are on the line! So you take one for the team and kiss her, dang it!"

Saito closed his eyes and steeled his nerves. Even after all he faced mustering up enough courage to kiss Louise, even though she was unconscious and they had already kissed before, was more nerve-wracking than anything. The teen placed a hand on the pinkette's cheek, took a deep breath, and leaned in to kiss her.

As soon as their lips touched Louise's eyes shot wide open. At first she seemed dazed, and flushed as pink as her hair, then her eyes narrowed and she glared at her familiar wearing the odd Outworlder's uniform.

"You perverted dog! Why did you-"

Again, Derflinger came to the rescue and interrupted her rant.

"Listen lady! We need another spell and you were out of it. You're still new to this spell-casting stuff, and you were already drained."

Louise stared at the image of the sword hilt.

"Y-you mean that...kissing replenishes a mage's power?"

The sword chuckled again.

"Well, not exactly. My previous partner said emotions can help or hurt a mage's power, so I took a gamble."

"WHAT?!"

Both Saito and Louise shouted in unison at Derflinger, who continued.

"Hey, our boys down there need your destructive magical ability! Speaking of which..."

* * *

><p>Crosby still couldn't believe that the explosion came from the other side. Then he heard Alex's voice on his radio, sounding very animated.<p>

_"Iceman, Iceman, this is Bravo Six-Two, I have eyes on Bravo Zero, I say again I have eyes on Bravo Zero. It looks like the walking IED fired off one of her blow-shit-up spells. Took out at least a hundred baddies with it."_

The older soldier smiled in relief. So Saito had survived. He spoke into his radio.

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two."

He switched channels and spoke again.

"Bravo Zero, Bravo Zero, this is Iceman do you copy?"

A familiar voice greeted Crosby on the radio.

_"__Iceman, this is Bravo Zero, hope I'm not too late to the party."_

Crosby fought to keep his cool and not let out a whoop of joy.

"Bravo Zero, this is Iceman, glad that you could grace us with your presence."

* * *

><p>Chaos reigned within the ranks of the surviving Reconquista soldiers. The Outworlder's infernal airship had returned, and Sir Wauton waited for its destructive repeating cannon to fire again. But it didn't, and the Albion noble was curious as to why. He raised his spyglass to get a better look, and was shocked.<p>

There, standing in an open doorway of the airship, was a small girl with pink hair. Sir Wauton was about to order his archers to fire on her, when he saw her raise her wand, and blue energy coalesced at the tip of her wand. It took him only a moment to realize what was going to happen.

"Take cover!"

But it was too late, a massive blue fireball shot from the mage's wand. When it hit the ground there was a deafening explosion that threw the Albion noble on his back, and he could hear nothing but a tinny ringing in his ears. Sir Wauton opened his eyes and saw clumps of dirt and debris falling from the sky, one large clod of dirt impacted next to his head. When he turned to look it took a moment for the noble to register that it wasn't a clump of dirt, but a severed arm. He turned his head and retched.

* * *

><p>Crosby heard the familiar whine of the Black Hawk engine and the sound of blades cutting through the air, and the Black Hawk callsign Bravo Zero sailed buzzed overhead, and take up a hovering position. He could see the pinkette standing in the open doorway to the rear passenger compartment. He watched as she raised her wand and blue fire crackled into a ball at the Black Hawk's nose. He realized what was coming next.<p>

"All units! Fall back and take cover!"

As the surviving members of the 33rd and Tristainia's army scrambled for cover behind the sandbag emplacement, Crosby looked back up and saw Louise point her wand down, then the blue fireball hurled down at the gate.

* * *

><p>"Retreat! Retreat you fools! Save all who can!"<p>

Sir Wauton shouted hoarsely at the survivors who were alternating between pushing to get through the city's gate and others who were pushing to get back out, resulting in a gridlock. Truth be told the noble's ears were still ringing and he doubted that any of his men could hear him. He heard the droning buzz of the Outworlder's airship overhead, and looked up. He saw another fireball form in front of the airship, and when it occurred to him where the mage was aiming his heart sank.

"Brimir help us."

Then the fireball shot down, and struck the gate opening with full force, and mercifully Sir Wauton was killed immediately by the initial blast, those who survived were crushed by the cascading stonework or suffered a slow death by asphyxiation or being burned alive.

* * *

><p>Crosby's ears were still ringing by the deafening explosion as he stood up from behind his improvised cover. As the dust settled he could see a gaping hole where the gate was. He hoarsely shouted another order.<p>

"All remaining troopers on me, secure the gate opening!"

A second shocking sight greeted the surviving Tristainian defenders; there was nothing to shoot at. The wrecked siege engines and battering ram were abandoned, and the remaining Reconquista troops were nowhere to be found. Crosby heard Alex's voice on the radio.

_"__Ah, sarge, it looks like the remaining hostiles are in full retreat. What the hell does this mean?"_

Crosby looked incredulously over to Konrad. The colonel shrugged and gave the sergeant a tired smile before speaking into his radio to respond.

"It means the day is ours, private. We won."

_(AN: Aaaand that concludes the first battle in the Reconquista War. Next chapter will deal with the fate of Bravo Six, and then we get to deal with the aftermath of war. Hopefully this was to everyone's satisfaction. It was very difficult to write, and many thanks to Trainalf for beta'ing the battle sequences.)_


	86. A Farewell to Arms

_(AN: Wow, lots of good response to the battle chapters. And as one of my faithful followers has remarked, this fic is rapidly approaching the 100 chapter milestone and is rapidly approaching the 200K word mark. And we've hit 70,000 visitors. Wow. We've come a long way from a one-shot back in January, and I couldn't have done it without all of you followers, favoriters, reviewers and fans. Even the lurkers who visit from far off countries like Belarus or Azerbaijan but don't review or fav/follow, I like you too. But not that much. You don't get any Halloween candy if you don't ring the doorbell and say 'Trick or Treat,' after all. _

_Ahem...Moving right along, f__or those who were curious when I was writing the first couple of chapters I was listening to lots of Manowar and other 'battle metal' songs to reflect the 'Rated M for Manly' aspects early in the battle. Then I listened to various track music (especially the later chapters) of Spec Ops: The Line to reflect the chaotic and 'War is Hell' aspects of the battle as things started to unravel for Tristian and the Damned 33rd. It worked rather well, I think. This chapter I was able to churn out pretty quickly, but in fairness I had most of it stubbed out earlier in the fic, so all it required was some minor tweaking. Anyways, as promised we now find out what happened to Lt. Bowles!)_

"This is Bravo Six, going down, going down."

Bowles fought with the cyclic and was decreasing throttle on his collective. Over the din of the stricken chopper's 'bitching betty' klaxon he scanned over the gauges, and he looked over his shoulder. Cpl. Tebby and the wounded chevalier had jumped clear of the chopper, so at least they would survive. Then his cyclic locked up, and he saw the earth coming at him very fast, then he blacked out from the G-force.

When he came to, it was just like in his nightmares. Lt. Timothy Bowles was hanging upside down in the pilot's seat. He struggled to release the catch of his safety harness, but as soon as he tried to move his legs he felt excruciating pain stab one of his legs. He was pinned in place. His door was a twisted wreck, and he couldn't reach the other door because of his leg. Quickly the lieutenant tried to fight down the rising panic in his gut.

The smell of burning fuel and plastic filled his nostrils, along with something he suspected was the smell of burning flesh. He could feel the fire burn through the cloth of his uniform and his boots. He knew it was only a matter of time before the fire reached him, and he hoped that he would asphyxiate from the smoke before that happened. A small part of him wished he could be spared. Then, the oddest thing happened. He heard a soft, feminine voice in his headset.

**_"_****_Fear not, Lieutenant Timothy Bowles, I will not let you burn."_**

He remembered it as the voice in the bright white light, the one he heard when their Little Bird crashed into Walker's Black Hawk back in Dubai. The burning sensation faded, and all he could hear was the soft, musical voice speak again.

**_"_****_You have accomplished your task and you have earned your reward, so I will intervene and release you from your torment."_**

In the blink of an eye he was back in the bright white light. Only this time, he saw who the soft voice belonged to; it was a beautiful young woman. She was tall and lithe, with flowing hair and a purple toga-like dress edged in gold. It took him a moment to register that her hair was a deep forest green, just like her eyes. She smiled at him.

**_"_****_Congratulations, Timothy Bowles, you have earned your peace."_**

She slowly strode up to him, and caressed his cheek with a delicate hand. He felt the softness of her skin as her hand glided down to his neck. She leaned in to kiss him, and Bowles did not flinch. You don't flinch away when a beautiful ethereal girl leans in to kiss you, but while the lieutenant didn't flinch, he also did not lean in to her kiss. The lady with the green hair seemed to understand this, and at the last minute she tilted her head and kissed him on the cheek. The lady then pulled back at gazed at the lieutenant.

**_"_****_What troubles you, Timothy Bowles?"_**

Whether it was the awkwardness of his situation or her beauty Bowles found himself babbling.

"Um…look it's not that you're not pretty or anything, you're really quite attractive…no, scratch that, you're incredible gorgeous, but you see, it…"

Thankfully he was stopped by a single finger to his lips. He saw that the lady was giggling like a schoolgirl at him.

**_"_****_You need not explain, I will find out for you. Do not be afraid."_**

She leaned in, and all that Bowles could see was her green eyes. In those eyes he saw a vision, a pretty barmaid with a kerchief on her head. The lady smiled as if her eyes could see what Bowles saw.

**_"_****_Ah, so that is why. Jessica, wasn't it?"  
><em>**

Bowles nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

The lady cocked her head to one side.

**_You love her, don't you?"_**

He smiled.

"Well, honestly, if it weren't for her…"

The lieutenant paused and took one of the lady's slender hands in his gloved hand.

"She'll be alright, won't she?"

The lady nodded.

**_"_****_Thanks to the sacrifices of you and your companions, she will live."_**

"But she won't suffer?" He persisted. "I mean, she won't cry because I'm gone, right?"

This time the lady paused, and for a moment there was a glisten in her eyes, as if a prelude to tears.

**_"_****_She will suffer your loss, but suffering is part of life."_**

She squeezed his hand.

**_"_****_Where you are going there will be no suffering, no pain, only the peace that you have yearned for so long in life."_**

He paused for a moment.

"Will I remember? Her, I mean."

She shook her head slowly and sadly.

**_"_****_Regretfully not. The peace you seek will transcend your entire mortal coil, and the emotions you feel."_**

Bowles hesitated, and to his surprise, the lady smiled again.

**_"_****_Yet here you are presented with the peace you sought so much, but your love for her is stronger."_**

The lady reached out and stroked his cheek again.

**_"_****_I have never in all my years have seen such devotion in a mortal before, save once."_**

She paused for a moment.

**_"_****_Only once I did know a mortal who was thus devoted. His kind, like your kind, was a contradiction; the warrior who professes to be only slightly better than a mercenary and yet bound by his conscience, the cynic professes to care for nothing yet has a lover's heart."_**

She took his other hand in hers.

**_"_****_If you wish to return, you need but ask. Your reward will wait, but I warn you, that to choose life is to return to the pain that is part of life. Is this what you seek?"_**

Bowles nodded.

**_"_****_Then so be it. I shall wait for you in the Celestial Empyrean for you when your pattern has run its course within the Tapestry. Until then!"_**

She reached out with a slender hand and touched his vest with the tip of her finger and a burning sensation convulsed through his body and he sat up suddenly.

His eyes were still looking at bright light, but when they readjusted he saw bright aquamarine eyes shimmering at him.

"Y-you're awake!"

Jessica reached forward and grabbed Bowles into a tight hug. The lieutenant didn't mind since it situated his face right in the middle of her cleavage. For a while he just sat there immobile, taking in the maid's rosy scent and her soft skin. Then she pulled him back and frantically kissed him on the lips and face.

"Oh, Timothy, I'm so so happy that you're alive!"

Bowles smiled weakly and for the first time took in his surroundings. He was back in his old Spartan quarters at the Charming Fairies Inn, he saw his uniform folded neatly by the washbasin on a chest of drawers. He looked back to Jessica, who was still regarding him with shimmering eyes.

"Wh-what happened? How did I end up here?"

She shook her head and gently pushed him back into the bed.

"I will explain all, darling, but for now you must rest and regain your strength."

The lieutenant said nothing but laid back on his pillow. Jessica watched as Bowles drifted back off to sleep, then she picked up a candle by the nightstand and stood up. She gently closed the door and made her way down the stairs to the main room of the inn. It was deserted, but a fire still crackled merrily in the fireplace, and a lone figure was sitting in an easy chair by the fire. The older man looked up from his book.

"So our hero awaked?"

Jessica nodded.

"Yes, just now he came to. He doesn't seem to remember anything."

She fidgeted with her hands, and then unexpectedly collapsed to her knees, leaning against the arm of the chair and crying.

"Oh father! I still can't believe it! It's a miracle from Brimir! Timothy is alive!"

Her father Scarron, dressed in a fairly sedate (for him) fuchsia dressing gown and without his trademarked pancake makeup, reached down and caressed his daughter.

"Shhh, daughter, there, there! I knew when the young man appeared seemingly out of thin air on our doorstep that it was a miracle. Brimir surely heard all your prayers."

For a few moments Jessica said nothing but wept softly into the folds of her father's dressing gown, Scarron stroking her hair. Finally he spoke.

"Did you tell him, Jessica?"

The brunette shook her head, and sniffed out a sob.

"I-I was just so grateful that he was alive and conscious that I didn't have the heart to tell him."

Scarron nodded, but spoke, more firmly.

"You have to tell him some time, Jessica."

The young maid pulled herself from her father.

"But how?"

Her father looked back up at the ceiling where Bowles' bedroom was.

"He must know. The boy deserves to hear the truth."

Scarron looked back down to his daughter.

"If you would rather, I can do it."

He chuckled.

"I will even assume my 'Madmoiselle' persona, if you think it would soften the blow."

Scarron's voice assumed its trademarked falsetto pitch as he spoke. Jessica shook her head and lowered her eyes.

"No, I will tell him, father. He deserves to hear it from me."

She looked directly at her father.

"Just let me pick the right time."

The innkeeper rose from his chair and took his daughter's hand.

"Of course, my dear. But remember that the longer you put it off, the worse it will be for him."

Jessica looked back up at the ceiling."

"I know, father. But let me wait for the right time to tell Timothy that I could not save his leg."

_(AN: DunDUNDUN! So, Lt. Bowles survives, but not entirely unscathed. One of my faithful followers had said that I didn't give enough screen time to the secondary characters, specifically Scarron. So, in Bowles' recovery arc, you'll see more character development of Jessica and Scarron. Hope it wasn't too overwrought. Good news is, I have the next chapter, where our heroes back in Tristain have to deal with the after effects of war, almost finished, should be up by the weekend. Until then!)_


	87. Hero of the Day

_(AN: Like the previous chapter I had this one stubbed out and pretty much done, hence the quick update. So now that the 1__st__ battle is over, we deal with the aftermath. `Nuff sed.)_

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_The window burns to light the way back home  
>A light that warms no matter where they've gone<br>They're off to find the hero of the day  
>But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way?"<em>

-Metallica

* * *

><p>Crosby cursed as the cart hit a rut and overturned. Bodies and body parts cascaded in a heap on the ground. The Zulu Squad sergeant wiped some sweat off his face and looked up. It was almost noon, based off the position of the sun, since the early morning he and Lt. McPherson were supervising burial detail for the casualties on both sides. The friendly casualties were being carted back into Tristainia, to an improvised morgue where they could be identified by relatives and buried. The Reconquista bodies, which were more numerous, were being dumped into a large mass-grave in a potter's field close to the city. Crosby's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of retching. The Tristainian commoner, a tanner by trade, was his helper. The sergeant had chosen him because he thought given the local's grisly occupation he would have a stronger stomach. Such was not the case. Although in fairness to the tanner he probably had never seen such carnage on a mass scale before. Crosby shook his head.<p>

"Listen, Mr. Montaigu if you can't handle this I'll get someone else to help."

The tanner wiped his mouth with a dirty rag and shook his head.

"No, Sir Crosby, I shall be fine."

He looked down at the body of one Reconquista archer, or at least the top half of one. Montaigu shuddered.

"So much death, it is terrible."

He looked back at Crosby.

"But at least, with this war being so terrible, we should not have another war, yes?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant smiled thinly. If only it was that simple.

"Yes, yes Mr. Montaigu, you're quite correct. After yesterday I doubt any faction in this world will have the stomach for war."

He looked past the Tristainian commoner and saw McPherson approaching. Like Crosby, he was wearing his trouser utes and a tee-shirt, and like Crosby he was also caked in grime and dried blood. Still out of habit the older soldier stood at attention and saluted the officer. McPherson returned the salute.

"At ease, sarge. We're both covered in shit, so protocol can wait."

He looked down at the overturned cart with its grisly cargo spilled out.

"Need an extra pair of hands, Crosby."

The sergeant had just picked up a couple of body parts, one of which was an arm, and he wryly held it up to the lieutenant. After a long moment they both burst into morbid laughter, much to the puzzlement of Montaigu. After Crosby tossed the arm and hand into the cart he finished laughing and shook his head.

"That's a negative, sir. We'll make do."

He paused. Lt. McPherson was in charge of recovering the corpses of friendlies, and was also tasked with finding Tebby and Bowles. Finally the lieutenant spoke.

"I didn't find any sign of them, Crosby."

He looked back at the battlefield.

"We found the Little Bird, or what was left of it. The crash banged it up pretty good and the fire cooked it, and whatever was left the Reconquista stripped the shit out of it."

He looked back at Crosby.

"We found Sir Thibault, or at least what was left of him."

Crosby shuddered to think what the Reconquista did to the bodies. McPherson continued.

"I'm off to debrief the colonel, as soon you're done here report back to the palace."

The sergeant nodded.

"Roger that, sir."

* * *

><p>Later, after they dumped the bodies, Crosby made his way back into the city. It was a far cry from the first time he, the pinkette and her familiar set foot in Tristainia, so long ago when he first arrived in this odd world of magic and familiars. Back then the streets were bustling with vendors with nobles and commoners alike rushing to and fro. Now, the streets were deserted, only crows and carrion birds inhabited the streets. Then, as he approached the palace, Crosby saw a sight that still sickened him to his core.<p>

Arranged in neat rows by an entrance to the improvised morgue were the bodies of the Tristainian troops who perished the previous day. He saw scores of women, young and old, searching through the rows of bodies, looking for husbands, sons, or brothers. Then, he saw two young children, a boy and a girl no older than seven, looking at him inquisitively. He could almost hear it in their pleading eyes, asking him where their father or older brother went to, and why he had to go away.

The Zulu Squad sergeant was reminded of a similar sight, at the refugee camp after Walker and Adams had tore through it. They had opened fire on the civilians that were hiding there, and it was a massacre. The only survivors he and his squad found were two young children, looking up at him with a mixture of pleading, horror, and betrayal. It was the same look those two Tristainian children were giving him. Crosby shook his head again and brusquely pushed through crowd and up the steps to the palace gates.

Inside he found more bodies, but these were still alive and being treated. One Royal Sharpshooter stood at attention, and directed Crosby to a large ballroom to the left. Inside the ballroom long tables were set up and people were eating. The sergeant noted grimly that most of them, especially the students, were listlessly picking at their food. He also noticed that the only one in the student crowd that was eating was Tabitha and her familiar Illococoo. The human form of Slyphid looked none the worse for wear save a bandaged arm in a sling, and as Crosby watched her wolfing down food at a rapid rate he guessed that her injury hadn't affected her appetite. Then Crosby saw another familiar person and walked up to him.

Sgt. Lugo was heaping a large amount of food on his plate in the chow line, and waved the Zulu Squad sergeant over.

"Hey, sarge! Good to see ya. Things were so hairy last night I didn't get a chance to check in with you."

Crosby grinned at the Delta sniper.

"Glad to see you're still in one piece, Lugo. Although it rankles me that I have that cowardly Radioman to thank for that."

Lugo shrugged.

"Actually he saved our bacon, that ironclad dreadnaught would have made mincemeat out of us."

The older soldier's face looked grim.

"How badly screwed up is Ghostrider?"

The Delta sniper paused to put a large baguette of bread on his plate.

"The damage wasn't too bad, one of the outboard engines got fragged pretty good and couple of flaps damaged."

"Can it fly again?"

Lugo shrugged.

"Colbert seems to think so. He's been itching to get out of sickbay so he can start tinkering with it and fix it. Honestly the medics had to strap him in bed because one of them caught him sneaking out."

Crosby accepted a plate and started heaping his own food on. After a moment of silence Lugo spoke up.

"Any sign of Tebby or Bowles?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Negative. Which makes them KIA or MIA."

Lugo nodded.

"Well, maybe they're still alive."

He looked up and saw a petit brunette maid approaching.

"Oops, I gotta run, sarge. The lady doesn't want to be kept waiting for her food. Laters!"

Crosby smiled again as he watched the younger soldier rendezvous with Siesta. At least some things were still alright. He watched the two of them leave, then made his way back to the tables. He sat down at the nearest open spot, which put him right next to Louise and Saito. Saito was eating, although not with the same gusto as Illococoo, but Louise's plate was untouched. Crosby didn't know what to say, so he just dug into his food. It was a short-lived respite.

"How can you that?"

Crosby looked up to see the pinkette staring at him. He shrugged.

"It's really quite easy, you put food in your mouth, chew and swallow, and repeat until full."

She stood up and glared at him.

"You know what I mean! How can you sit there and eat, after everything that's happened?!"

Crosby shrugged again.

"Unlike you or the other students, I've faced battles before. Believe it or not, those were a lot worse than yesterday."

He looked over to Saito.

"The Damned 33rd has faced much, much worse things, both in Afghanistan and Dubai."

Louise sat back down, deflated.

"A-after the battle, I went down with Saito to see the damage for myself."

She closed her eyes and shuddered.

"I-I saw all those broken and mangled bodies. I knew they died by my hand, either by that loud repeating cannon, or my Void Destruction spell."

Louise opened her eyes up, shimmering with tears.

"All those deaths are my fault!"

Crosby set down his fork.

"Look, Louise, you need to understand something about war. War is not some glamorous thing were people get together and engage each other in noble combat. It's a nasty dirty race to the top of a pyramid, and whoever gets in your way gets killed."

He looked over to the students sitting at the next table.

"In some cases the dead got off easy, they don't have to live with themselves."

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked back down at the pinkette, who was still crying.

"This is the outcome of war. But I need you to do something for me."

He took one of her tiny hands in his.

"You can't beat yourself up about this. The best thing you can do is compartmentalize it and file it away. You'll have plenty of time to think about that later, believe me. But right now I need you to keep it together. For me, for Princess Henrietta, for Saito. Can you do that for me?"

The pinkette blinked away some tears and nodded once. She stood up and gestured at Saito.

"Come, familiar, I need to send word to my mother."

The teen stood up to leave, and almost collided with another soldier and froze. It was Alex Walker. Crosby noted grimly that the young sniper had the same dead eyes from their time in Dubai after the Radioman's tower fell. Alex's face contorted into a scowl at the sight of Saito.

"Where the fuck were you when Bravo Six went down?"

The Tokyo teen seemed rooted to the spot, and couldn't speak. But thankfully someone else spoke up for him.

"That's enough, private."

Alex whirled around, and saw Lt. McPherson standing behind him. Crosby and Saito stood at attention, saluted the lieutenant. It was only after a long moment that the private saluted as well.

"Sir."

McPherson returned the salute, and looked over to Saito.

"Finished with chow, specialist?"

Saito nodded once.

"Alright, carry on."

The teen, grateful for the save, left with Louise in tow, McPherson watched them leave, and then turned back to Alex.

"Now, private, do you mind telling me what that was all about?"

The private sighed.

"Sir, it's just…difficult, sir."

McPherson smiled thinly.

"Look, I know it's tough to lose buddies, we all have. But I need you to keep that shit squared away. Especially when there's an audience."

Alex looked up suddenly his eyes glaring and full of tears.

"With all due respect, sir, if Bravo Zero was in the field they could have saved my buddies! Instead-"

The lieutenant shook his head.

"Private, if Bravo Zero was there he would have been clipped by Nahkriin, or by one of the dragon riders, or a destructive spell And there would have been two crashed choppers instead of one, and the Specialist and his walking IED would have joined Bowles and Tebby. By taking out that ironclad dreadnaught he saved our collective asses."

Alex wiped away one of his tears.

**"**Maybe."

McPherson put a reassuring hand on the young sniper's shoulder.

"See, Alex? Look what you're doing now. You're thinking. Don't."

Alex turned back around to face the lieutenant, who continued.

"If there's anything that Dubai has taught us, it's that there are certain things you can't control. You can't control who gets hit or who doesn't. Who survives a chopper crash and who doesn't, or why. It's not up to you, or me. It's just war. That's why war is hell."

Alex turned away and closed his eyes.

"Yeah, well, Bowles and Tebby are still MIA or KIA. If Bravo Zero was there he could have saved them."

McPherson shook his head.

"Could have, would have, should have - it don't matter. It's outside your control."

He turned to Crosby.

"Which brings me to the reason I'm here. The colonel has tasked me with putting together a team for a rescue mission. Sgt. Crosby, since you've already traveled to Albion I want you to be part of the team."

Crosby nodded.

"What's our mission parameters?"

"You'll get a formal briefing soon enough, but the short-and-skinny version is we've got some intel on a secret dungeon that Cromwell uses for his political enemies. If the Reconquista have captured Bowles or Tebby chances are very good that's where they took them. Your mission will be to try and rescue them."

McPherson saw Alex start to speak and he held out a forestalling hand.

"I'm taking you off active duty for the time being, private, so the answer's no. Given the mission parameters I thought you'd want to know. What I need from you is to keep everything on an even keel here while I'm gone. I need your head in the game, private. Are you squared away?"

The private paused for a moment and nodded.

"Roger that, sir. Thanks for the pep talk."

He turned to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Do me a favor, sarge."

Crosby nodded.

"Bring my buddies back, dead or alive. And if they're not, kill the bastard that did the deed."

He saluted McPherson and turned to leave. McPherson watched him leave and turned back to Crosby, shaking his head.

"Shit. I was hoping that kid would come out of his shell. Now it looks like he's crawled right back in."

The lieutenant noticed blonde chevalier Agnès off to the side.

"You might have her keep Alex company, until all this blows over. I don't want Walker doing anything rash."

The sergeant nodded.

"Roger that, sir."

The lieutenant looked over at the chefs serving food.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to get some chow. The colonel was asking for you, so when you're finished here go report in to him. I'm guessing he's going to formally debrief you on the mission."

With that, McPherson left. Crosby was left eating his food in silence, but the silence didn't last long. Some speakers appeared just above the tables and the strains of Jimi Hendrix's version of the Star Spangled Banner jangled through the speakers and echoed throughout the ballroom. Then a voice spoke up above the din.

_"Well folks, it's another beautiful dawn in Tristainia, made even better now that the cowardly Cromwell and his rascally Reconquista have been sent packin'. It wasn't without sacrifice, as we lost some good folks…"_

There was a pause, and it sounded like Darden's voice cracked.

_"Ah, sorry ladies and gentlemen there was a bit of…interference…but I'm sure ol' Bowles and Tebby would want us to keep calm and carry on. Don't worry, every…everything's gonna be just fine."_

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Again, another pet peeve of mine with stories (and not just fanfiction) is that after a massive battle everybody just goes about their business as if nothing happened. When in reality when you bodies to bury, casualties to recover, and the reality sinks in. Hopefully I did it justice. Next chapter should be up by next week.)<em>


	88. War Or Peace

_(AN: And another chapter! Heck I'm on a real roll, then again it's NaNoWrimo so you'll benefit by getting more frequent updates. Hope you enjoy!)_

Crosby stood at the door to the royal throne room, the two guards saluted him and stepped aside, opening the door for him. Inside the sergeant saw the princess sitting on her ornate throne, with Konrad standing to her right. In front of her was a man, and judging by his accent, he was an Albionian. As Crosby approached he could hear the man speak.

"I can assure you, your Highness, that after the rather…unpleasantness that happened recently Lord Cromwell is most eager to sue for peace."

Princess Henrietta nodded.

"Very well. What are his terms for peace?"

The noble smiled and bowed.

"I am sorry, your Highness, but I am not in a position to negotiate on behalf of Lord Cromwell. However, if you were to accompany me to Londinium I could arrange an audience with our leader. I'm sure his terms will be most generous."

Crosby fought down the urge to retort, but thankfully Konrad beat him to the punch.

"Do you think the monarch of Tristain to be a fool?"

The noble looked over to the colonel as if he had just noticed him.

"I beg your pardon, good sir, but who are you?"

Konrad took a step forward.

"I am the Lord General of the Tristainian Armed Forces, the man responsible for the humiliating defeat of the Reconquista army, and therefore the reason your leader is suing for peace."

He glared at the noble, who wilted under the colonel's piercing gaze.

"And you didn't answer my question, do you think her Highness to be a fool? To travel to a country that is at war with her own country? Or are you the fool to think that she would fall for something like that?"

The noble, although flustered at Konrad's response, seemed miffed.

"I give you my word that Princess Henrietta will have safe passage to and from Londinium!"

Konrad had another retort on his lips, but was interrupted by the princess.

"Please, Lord Konrad."

The colonel bowed to Henrietta and stepped back.

"My apologies, your Highness."

She gave Konrad a light smile, and turned back to Cromwell's envoy.

"Lord Konrad is correct, my subjects need me here, so I will decline your invitation. However, you may send word to your leader that Tristain is willing to entertain Albion's overtures of peace. I will send a diplomatic envoy in my stead to negotiate the terms."

She stood up and gestured with her scepter.

"You are dismissed. Go in peace."

The noble looked irritated at the abrupt dismissal, but bowed again to the princess and turned to leave. As soon as the doors shut Crosby approached his CO.

"So, what? Now we're negotiating for peace?"

Konrad shook his head.

"No, but as long as Albion isn't shooting at us it's worth at least talking to them."

He glanced at the closed door.

"I take it that Lt. McPherson already told you?"

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that, sir. He said he's putting together a team for a rescue op. I take it this diplomatic mission is a cover for that?"

The colonel smiled thinly.

"Something like that."

Konrad looked down, and seemed to visibly sag, slumping into one of the visitor's chairs and placing his head in his hands. Immediately the princess stood up from her throne and sat next to the colonel, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, John?"

Konrad looked up at Henrietta and massaged his temples.

"I'm fine, you Highness."

This time the young monarch of Tristain giggled.

"I thought we were past that, John."

The colonel gave a chuckle.

"So you did, Henrietta."

Crosby watched as the princess took the colonel's hand in her much smaller one. She looked at him with shimmering eyes.

"You mustn't punish yourself. You saved us, John Konrad. You saved my kingdom and you saved Tristain from annihilation. For that you have my eternal gratitude."

She watched Konrad smile and she continued.

"And don't forget our bargain, John."

Konrad chuckled.

"Well the war isn't technically over until Albion signs a peace treaty, but not to worry, when this is all over you may make the announcement of our upcoming nuptials."

The princess let out a squeal of glee and hugged Konrad's midsection tightly. As amusing as it was to watch his commanding officer get glomped by the princess, Crosby spoke up.

"Well, there is a bright side to all of this. And for what it's worth, we did the best that we could have. Tristain is safe, and for now Albion seems to be making peaceful overtures."

Konrad nodded looked down at the princess, still hugging him and smiling up at him.

"As you say, sergeant. I sincerely hope that this Oliver Cromwell has learned his lesson."

He gently pulled Henrietta off of him.

"Henrietta, would you excuse the sergeant and myself?"

She smiled and nodded once. Konrad watched as the princess leave, and when the door shut he turned back to Crosby. The colonel shoulders slumped again and he shook his head.

"This was my fault, sergeant. I could have ended this war before it even started."

Konrad stood up, and walked over to the open window. Below he could see the rows and rows of dead bodies being identified and cried over by their loved ones.

"All of this bloodshed could have been avoided. I could have used the white phosphorus on Tarpes after the Reconquista had overrun it, the horror and sheer devastation would have demoralized the Reconquista, and they wouldn't have dared to invade."

He shook his head again.

"Instead I had to play the hero again. I was a damned fool for thinking that we could fight a clean war, even here."

He looked back up to Crosby intently.

"Sergeant, do you know what one of the key earmarks of a good leader is?"

The sergeant shrugged.

"The leader who gets the job done?"

Konrad shook his head again.

"No, sergeant, one of the key aspects of leadership is admitting failure. I appreciate you trying to sugarcoat it, but the bottom line is I made a mistake, trying to fight the good fight, to fight a clean war."

The colonel's hazel eyes hardened.

"A mistake I won't repeat, if the situation changes."

Crosby had an inkling of what Konrad was insinuating but he decided not to press the colonel further. His superior smiled, and his eyes softened.

"I'm sorry for unloading onto you, Crosby. Round up the rest of the team members and get some rest. Tomorrow you and the team set out for Albion. Bring our boys home, either so we can fix them up or so we can give them a proper soldier's burial."

* * *

><p>On the way back from the royal throne room, Crosby paused and made a detour for the Sharpshooter's barracks, which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. He pushed the doors open and was greeted by the smell of antiseptic, bandages and dried blood. There was a rich, rancid underscent of pus and infection that no smell could mask, but the sergeant made his way past the wounded, stopping to visit with some Sharpshooter or other soldier whose face he recognized. Finally, at the far end there was as curtain that acted as a partition, and he pushed that aside. On one side he saw the professor Colbert, sleeping soundly with bandages wrapped around his bare torso. Crosby noticed some old scars on the professor's chest, and made a note to ask him about them when he recuperated.<p>

In the bed next to Colbert was the blonde fop, who looked stable enough to be boasting to a pretty brunette maid about his exploits. Crosby shook his head. Some things never change, although he hoped Guiche's girlfriend wouldn't take the opportunity to visit now, otherwise there would be more bloodshed.

The last bed's occupant was swathed in bandages, and the older soldier wasn't surprised to see Tiffania sitting by the bed. Crosby was surprised to see the other occupant, who stood up.

"Greeting, Sir Crosby. I am glad to see that you survived."

It was Tiffania brother, the one that they had met back at the oasis in the desert. He looked down at Tiffania.

"My sister told me that you and her beloved fought valiantly in the battle yesterday."

Tiffania's brother lowered his head.

"I am sorry for the loss of your fellow Outworlders."

His sister lowered her head as well, and maybe it was Crosby's imagination, but it looked as if her pointed ears drooped slightly. The Zulu Squad sergeant spoke up.

"How is the lieutenant faring?"

At the mention of his name Tiffania perked up and raised her head.

"My beloved is out of danger, but his recovery is still a long road."

She took one of Gordon's bandaged hands in her own.

"If you wish to speak with him, I can awaken him, if you like."

Crosby nodded, and the Tiffania, while holding her beloved's hand, whispered something in her elf tongue. After a few minutes Gordon's eyes flickered open. The brown eyes swiveled and focused on her, and the lieutenant smiled.

"Hey good lookin', what's cookin'?"

Tiffania cocked her head to one side.

"I don't understand, do you want some food?"

Gordon chuckled weakly and shook his head.

"No sweetie, that's just a figure of speech."

He turned his head and saw the Zulu Squad sergeant grinning at him.

"How're you feeling, sir?"

Gordon shifted in his cot.

"Sergeant, I feel like I got run over by a beer truck and someone tap-danced on my spine with high-heels."

He shook his head.

"And my head feels like the granddaddy of all hangovers."

The lieutenant paused, as if remembering.

"What happened? Back on the field, I mean?"

He looked over to Tiffania.

"Before I blacked out, I thought…I thought you were there."

The elf girl smiled.

"I was, you were injured and that horrible dragon was going to kill you."

She lowered her eyes and blushed.

"I-I couldn't let that happen."

"It was a foolish thing to do."

Crosby looked over to her brother as he spoke.

"That spellsong is dangerous to perform, even for a powerful mage."

Both soldiers looked inquisitively at the male elf. Finally Crosby asked the question on both of their minds.

"What the hell was that, anyways?"

Tiffania fidgeted in her chair uncomfortably. The Zulu Squad sergeant noticed that her bare feet were bandaged up. Her brother spoke up for her.

"It is a very ancient, very powerful spellsong. In the times of old when we were more plentiful and dragons roamed freely, it was our most power weapon against them. It translates from our tongue into Dragonrend, and if performed correctly, will destroy a dragon completely, obliterating even its soul."

He glared at Tiffania.

"It was a miracle you didn't destroy yourself in the process. It normally takes years of training to properly perform it."

Gordon smiled lightly at the elf girl.

"Well, it's good to know that if another dragon shows up you can curbstomp him with that spellsong."

Tiffania lowered her head, and again her brother spoke.

"No, so powerful is this spell, that even the most experienced spellsinger can only perform it once. To perform it more than once is to court disaster or death."

There was an uncomfortable silence, so Crosby decided to change the subject.

"Sir, Lt. McPherson is putting together a team to go into Albion under the cover of a diplomatic mission, but in reality it's a rescue op."

Gordon started to sit up.

"Well, count me in, I owe an ass-kicking to those Reconquista assholes anyways."

He was stopped by Tiffania, who gently pushed him back into the cot.

"No, you're still too weak and need to regain your strength."

She looked up at Crosby.

"I will come with you, since I came from Albion I know areas of the countryside where we can conceal ourselves."

The Zulu Squad sergeant nodded.

"Good. I need you to get some rest tonight, we're departing for Albion first thing in the morning tomorrow. Meet me at the landing pad at dawn."

The elf girl nodded once and sat back down next to Gordon. As she started cooing and fawning over her beloved, Crosby decided it would be a good time to leave.

* * *

><p>It was almost dusk when he entered the ballroom that was the Damned 33rd's barracks, and it was then that the full heaviness of reality sunk in for Sgt. Crosby. Three empty cots, one's occupant was in serious condition and recovering from nasty wounds, and the other two were either dead or captured. The sergeant sank onto his cot and massaged his temples.<p>

Again he felt old and tired, he felt like he could sleep for a week, but eight hours would have to suffice. There was too much to do and not enough time to do it. He pulled out the crate that held his gear and started checking over his weapons and armor. His black and white Zulu Squad armor was still intact, there were a few minor nicks and dents from the musket balls and arrows but nothing severe. Satisfied, he set down his armor and pulled out the cleaning kit for his P90. As Crosby disassembled the submachine gun and prepared the barrel for cleaning, his gaze rested on the other items in his crate. Gordon's AA-12 sat in the crate with his Desert Eagle and backup M9 and again the sergeant was reminded of the things they had to face.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and Saito walked in.

"Oh, hi Crosby-san! I was just visiting Lt. Gordon and he said you were looking for me. He said something about a rescue mission."

Crosby nodded.

"Yep, as the ranking chopper pilot -make that our only chopper pilot- I'll need you to get us into Albion."

The teen nodded once.

"Understood. I heard that things could get dicey, since it's a rescue op."

The sergeant wiped the last bit of oil off his P90 and stood up.

"It could. We have a contact in Albion, one of the last of the Royalist nobles is going to give us the location of the Reconquista's secret dungeon where they keep all their political prisoners. If Tebby and Bowles are still alive chances are they're keeping them there."

Saito was about to say something when the double doors swung open, and Louise came stomping in sporting a death glare that could peel wallpaper. Following hot on her heels was Tiffania, who had a perplexed look on her face and was still speaking.

"-I don't understand, the fire mage Kirche Zerbst seems normal to me."

Crosby walked over to Louise, who was exhibiting all the symptoms of a volcano about to erupt; her right eye was twitching, the vein popping on her forehead, the works.

"What the hell is going on here? And why are you so steamed up, my lady?"

Louise glared up at Crosby.

"That hussy Kirche was mocking me again, and has convinced Tiffania that women with huge breasts are normal!"

The elf stared at the pinkette as if she had sprouted a second head.

"They're not?"

She looked down at her own impressive bust and gave her female assets a squeeze.

"But these are normal, aren't they?"

Crosby caught himself staring and quickly looked away.

"I-I'm not qualified to answer that question, kid."

Tiffania turned to Saito.

"What do you think?"

Saito being a typical teenager, just stared with his mouth half open. He babbled a bit incoherently.

"Oh…ahhh…I think tits normal, I mean it's normal for someone of your nipple, er…"

The sergeant facepalmed. What an idiot, he thought. Then he heard the pinkette snarl under her breath.

"Sssssaitoooo! You stupid PERVERTED DOG!"

* * *

><p>Robert Darden was getting ready to run the evening radio program when it felt like an earthquake hit. His entire tower rumbled and shook, then there was the sound of a distant explosion. The Radioman grinned and keyed his microphone.<p>

"Well, welcome back to the program ladies and gentlemen. Before we start our next half hour rock block, let me be the first to say a few words about how important it is to get back into a semblance of normalcy after such a tragic event..."

* * *

><p>Louise paused in beating Saito with her riding crop to see some speakers hovering outside the windows of the barracks. The Jester's voice continued.<p>

_"...__And if that last little earthquake was anything to go off of, it tells me that things are getting back to normal if the 33__rd__'s own Walking IED is still living up to her name, heh-heh. So, I'm giving a contest, you guess which sitch caused our little friend to blow her stack. I'm giving even odds that someone mistook her for a boy, or her boyfriend was eyeballing some stacked hottie, but the first caller to call in and give the correct answer wins the prize of a genuine Reconquista helmet as the winner!"_

Louise's eye twitched again.

"You disrespectful common Jester!"

She let off another Destructive spell that blew out the windows and the frames, only to have the speakers dodge.

_"__Whoah! That was a close one! All I know is that if I were in her boyfriend's shoes I'd be taking me some baaad medicine, and that's what's coming up next! And remember as soon as the song stops callers can call in and guess what set Little Miss A-Cups off!"_

The speakers started blaring more rock riffs and a voice started singing.

_"__Your love is like bad madicine  
>Bad medicine is what I need<br>Shake it up, just like bad madicine  
>There ain't no doctor that can<br>Cure my disease!"_

In spite of the damage that Louise was causing, Crosby couldn't help but chuckle. The Radioman was right, somethings never change, even in time of war. The pinkette might have found out she was a Void mage and have feelings for Saito, but it didn't mean she wasn't still subjected to her insane jealously or mood swings. He turned to leave. Saito, who was lying on the ground and covered in welts from Louise's riding crop, called out to older soldier as he left.

"Wait! Crosby-san! Where are you going?!"

Crosby paused at the doorway.

"To get some chow. I recommend you make up with Louise and get some rest. We fly out at 0700 tomorrow."

He turned to the pinkette, who had paused in her rant.

"Don't kill him, my lady, we need his flying skills."

He paused again.

"On second thought, in a pinch I can fly that Black Hawk, so do whatever."

The Zulu Squad sergeant grinned as he saw a wicked smile spread across the pinkette's face, and at the horrified expression on the Tokyo teen's face. He turned and left, ignoring the sounds of the riding crop making contact, and sauntered down the hallway in search of food, whistling a Bon Jovi tune.

_(AN: So the last couple of chapters were a bit heavy, so I decided to end this one on a lighter note. As stated earlier the month of November is my NaNoWrimo, so hopefully you'll see some more frequent updates. That and a large portion of this arc has already been stubbed out, so it means less writing for me. Hope you enjoyed, next chapter will deal with what happened to Tebby, so ye be warned. That one will be posted soon, maybe even tomorrow, so stay tuned!)_


	89. 21 Guns

_(AN: When I wrote this chapter I originally gave it the title 'The Lost Battalion", but then last night whilst I was editing it I was listening to my internet radio and the Broadway version of Green Day's '21 Guns' came on. Somehow the soft, bittersweet opening strains and the female vocals seem to fit this chapter better. You be the judge. Oh, and if you have any heart whatsoever, keep a hanky handy.)_

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Do you know what's worth fighting for?  
>When it's not worth dying for?<br>Does it take your breath away and you feel yourself suffocating?  
>Does the pain weigh out the pride?<br>And you look for a place to hide?  
>Did someone break your heart inside, you're in ruins…"<em>

-Green Day

* * *

><p>Tebby was in pain. He didn't know how long he had been in the custody of the Reconquista. He remembered being separated from Sir Thibault in the battlefield, that the enemy soldiers were advancing and outflanking them. He remembered being struck from behind, and then waking up clapped in irons aboard one of their airships. Almost immediately they started interrogating him. First it was just the rank and file soldiers, who took turns punching him and spitting on him. Then came the nobles who berated him and called him a mass-murderer and a heathen. Tebby especially remembered a tall, older man with blonde hair and a scar on his face, who later he found out to be none other than Oliver Cromwell himself. All of them wanted to know the same thing, they wanted to know what sort of 'Outworlder Magic' was used to power his weapons and technology, and they didn't like the answers he gave them.<p>

After that, they had stripped him of his uniform and armor, and knocked him unconscious. When he came to he was chained to a torture rack like some animal to be slaughtered. For a long time his two gaolers inflicted all sorts torture upon him, first by stretching his arms and legs out of their sockets, then came the sharp knives that cut the most tender parts of his body, then came the fire. Mercifully his tormentors had left him alone in the dungeon, so now the soldier could reflect on fruits of their sadistic labor. Every inch of his skin throbbed with pain from their fire torture, his muscles and sockets burned from being stretched on the rack. He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them he thought he was hallucinating.

There, standing over him, was the same beautiful lady that he saw in the white light so long ago. She had the same long flowing green hair that was tousled by an unseen wind, she wore the same purple and gold toga-like dress, and she had the same radiant face. She looked as though she was on the verge of tears. She stroked his cheek with a slender hand.

**_"_****_Poor, poor Jebediah Tebby. What have they done to you?"_**

Where her hand glided over his charred flesh the burning sensation dulled. He heard her speak again, she continued in the same soft, sad voice.

**_"_****_Why is it that in all the countless Tapestries I've seen, that men are all the same and degenerate to such levels of beastliness and barbarism that would shame animals?"_**

His lips opened and he tried to speak, but his throat was dry and all that came out was a rasping croak. He then noticed her offering a small bowl to his lips. Cooling, sweet nectar soothed his ravaged mouth and throat, and after he swallowed he could speak.

"So, how bad is it, Lady? Is my modeling career over?"

She tried to stifle a laugh but it ended in a chocked sob. Her wide green eyes became bright and glistening. One tear that glittered like a diamond traced a course from her soft cheek down to her delicate chin and fell and landed on his swollen face. He could feel a cooling sensation, and the throbbing pain faded.

**_"_****_If I had known what the extent of your suffering would be, I would not have given you this task. I am here to offer you release from your torment."_**

He shook his head.

"Im-I'm not giving up while I'm still breathing, ma'am. I just have to hold out for my buddies, they'll bust me out, I'm sure of it."

She sobbed again, and Tebby watched as another tear fell; he could see where it fell on the charred flesh of his arm. He looked up to her and saw her weeping openly, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

**_"_****_The pattern of your thread has run its course within this Tapestry. You are correct that your friends will come to rescue you, but they will come too late."_**

He saw the burned skin heal itself where her tear fell on his arm, and the burning pain subsided. The lady tearfully continued.

**_"Evil men mean to sacrifice you to release an unstoppable evil on this world. They intend to this very deed tonight."_**

She leaned in so all he could see was her vivid green eyes.

**_"_****_If you say but the word, I will relieve you of this torment and rescue you from the horrible fate that awaits you. You have earned this release."_**

Tebby closed his eyes. He couldn't look her in the eye when all he wanted was to say 'yes'. The soldier in him told him to fight on, not to give up. He felt another cooling drop on his face, and he felt her breath on his ear as he heard her whisper

**_"_****_My heart cannot bear to let you suffer, Jebediah Tebby, so I will defy His will and make the decision for you."_**

Soft lips touched his own, and in an instant he was back in the white light. The pain was gone in an instant, and the lady was standing before him. He also felt self-conscious, as he was also naked.

"Say, ah, Lady, could you hook me up with some clothes? Or even maybe just a large cowboy hat?"

She put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled.

**_"_****_Where you are going transcends material things like clothes, Jebediah. But if you wish."_**

She snapped her fingers and instantly he was clothed in his old digital ACU's. He smiled in appreciation.

"Thanks, it was getting a bit drafty."

She smiled.

**_"'_****_Tis nothing. You have certainly earned it."_**

She strode up to him and caress his cheek, but then her brow knit and she raised an eyebrow.

**_"_****_You seem disappointed, why?"_**

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

"Aw, it's nothing. I-I'm grateful for you saving my bacon, I just wish I had the chance to kick some more ass, that's all."

Tebby saw a contemplative look on the lady's face, as she tapped a finger against her chin in thought.

**_"_****_The soldier never ceases to amaze me in his quest to discharge his duty. If it is more adventure you seek, there is another Tapestry within my realm that requires your help, 'tis not the same as the previous Tapestry, but it does have one of your companions. If you wish, I can send you there and you can help. Or you remain and follow me to your reward."_**

He grinned.

"If it gives me another chance to kick ass and chew bubble gum, I'm game for that, ma'am."

She smiled again, and approached him. When her face was mere inches from his, he closed his eyes, and felt her soft lips on his.

**_"_****_I will wait for you in the Celestial Empyrean when your pattern has run its course. But until then, I wish you luck on your new adventures, Jebediah Tebby!"_**

As she kissed him Corporal Tebby vanished in a flash. For a while Tinúviel gazed at the Tapestry that where Tebby came from, and the one she sent him to. As she watched the patterns emerge, she nodded in satisfaction and snapped her fingers. A doorway appeared, and she stepped through.

Then she was back in a familiar beach, with its pristine white sands and deep blue waves crashing. She saw the one she meant to find and approached him. The Storyteller, who was known as Ǣsbiǫrn the Storyteller and Country Ollman, was sitting on a sand dune and fishing. He was shaded by a brightly colored umbrella and had a worn blue box sitting next to him. She seemed to recall him calling it a 'beer cooler.' In the distance she could hear her Lord's dog barking. Then he looked up and grinned.

"Oh hiya, toots! How goes it?"

He set his pole down and stood up, dusting the sand off his short breeches.

"If I'd known you were coming I would've brought the fixings for a margarita."

She clasped his hands in hers and bowed.

"My Lord."

He grinned again and wagged a finger at her, smiling.

"What did I tell you about that whole formality thing? C'mon, have a seat, if you don't mind getting sandy."

He sat back down, and she knelt beside him. She watched Country open the 'beer cooler' and pull out a small cylindrical ale receptacle fashioned out of metal. It's function always fascinated Lúthien, when the top of the receptacle was opened, it would make a popping noise and foamy blonde ale would flow out of the opening. Country saw her looking at the beer can and smiled again.

"You want a beer? They're nice and cold."

She returned his smile and shook her head.

"No thank you, my Lord."

The Storyteller shrugged, and took a long sip of his beer. When he finished Country set the beer down beside him and picked his fishing pole up. After casting the line out, he spoke again.

"Oh, by the way, well played."

She looked up to him innocently, toying with one her green locks.

"My Lord?"

He grinned as he cast his line out again.

"Oh come on, don't 'My Lord' me, toots, you know well what I'm talking about. I'll give you a hint, it starts with Corporal and ends with Tebby."

He looked over to her.

"Not that I disapprove."

She coyly returned his smile.

"My Lord never said I couldn't intervene."

Country shrugged.

"You're right, I didn't. That's why I said, well played."

He took another sip of beer and continued fishing. For a while there was silence save for the sound of seagulls crying and the waves crashing against the beach. Finally Lúthien placed a delicate hand on his forearm.

"My Lord, there is something I wish to ask of You."

Country shook his head.

"I know what you're going to ask, toots, and I'm sorry. I can't."

She lowered her head, and when she looked back up, her green eyes glistening with tears.

"But my Lord, they've come so far, and they have suffered much."

The Storyteller shrugged and took another sip of beer.

"The Damned 33rd and Delta Squad have to confront their demons before they can be absolved, rules are rules. Some of them, as you've demonstrated with Tebby, can be bent or even broken. Some, like this, can't even be budged."

She shook her head, her green hair swishing in the breeze.

"Then at least spare Robert Crosby, I beg of You! Of all of them he has come the farthest, and he has already suffered much, must he go through it? You could, in Your mercy, spare him."

When he didn't respond she clasped His free hand, her green eyes bright with tears.

"Please, my Lord, I beg of You, reconsider that which You plan to do."

Country looked over to her and shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, toots. Like I said, they have to face their demons. Crosby and his companions won't get absolution unless they pass the final test."

He brightened up.

"But don't worry, your boyfriend will pass his test with flying colors."

When he noticed that Lúthien had lowered her head and tears were streaming down her face he put a reassuring hand on her bare shoulder.

"Look, I tell you what, toots. I'll let you warn him about it, let him prepare. And I'll even allow you to be with him when he has to go through it, so he won't face those tribulations alone."

With that, the Weaver looked back up and smiled again, and gratefully kissed His hand.

"Thank you, my Lord!"

He chuckled.

"I told you, call me Country. That 'Lord' stuff is waaaay too formal."

Lúthien was about to say something, but her brow furrowed and she abruptly stood up, brushing the sand off her dress.

"I beg my Lord's pardon, but I must take leave; something urgent requires my attention. Though he knows it not, Robert Crosby and his companions are grave danger."

Ǣsbiǫrn the Storyteller had already reeled in his line and was packing away his gear. He paused and looked out to where her gaze fell. In the far distance the ocean had turned dark green and the sky had turned an angry grey.

"Yep, there's a storm brewing on the horizon."

_(AN: Uh-oh! What does the Sadistic Godlike Author Avatar of this world have in store for Crosby and co? It must be terrible, if the Weaver of Fate fears for them enough to plead her case. Well, continue reading and find out! Next chapter is an interlude that will show where Tebby went to, as a hint, he's going to meet another member of the Damned 33rd. Until then!)_


	90. Interlude: The Lost Battalion

_(AN: This is an interlude chapter à la The Human Factor, doesn't really contribute to ZSNT but it will show where Corporal Tebby ended up. Ye be warned, this was my 'release valve' after all the angsty war chapters, so there be crack aplenty ahead. Also, bonus points to whoever gets the 'canon foreigner' in this chapter.)_

Tebby's first thoughts were that he was back in Dubai. He woke up sitting in a pilot's seat, as if he had just drifted off to sleep. He saw the sun setting over a sand dune and painting the sky and the desert a vivid pink. Quickly the corporal opened the door and hopped out to inspect his surroundings. He was in a desert, near an oasis complete with water and a palm tree. The craft he had woken up in was a Black Hawk like Bravo Zero, but this one was painted battleship grey with Hellfire missile pods and a bulbous FLIR turret on its nose. It had to be a Navy Sea Hawk.

Even more bizarre was that there was a military HUMVEE parked next to the Black Hawk. That Tebby recognized from Dubai, between spare packs tied to its brush guard, the armored slits welded onto the windshield and side-windows and 55 gallon drums on the back hatch it was evidently one of the Damned 33rd's. He shook his head and wondered where the Lady had sent him. He made his way back into the Sea Hawk's cockpit and decided to power up the battery and go down the checklist to see how much fuel it had. No sooner had he flicked the 'battery on' toggle switch then the cockpit's radio crackled to life.

_"__Repeating: to the US Military IFF transponder Romeo Foxtrot Eight Six Seven Fife Tree Zero Niner this is Kilo One-Four, if you copy please respond on channel seven…"_

Tebby wasn't shocked that there was other soldiers in this world, after all this was probably their `bird, but something sounded naggingly familiar about the voice.

"Ah, Kilo-One-Four, this is Bravo Six-Three I authenticate IFF Romeo Foxtrot Juliet Tango One, Fife, Tree, Zero, how copy?"

There was an audible chuckle on the other end.

_"Holy crap on a cracker, is that you Tebby? Not the Fat Hillbilly from West Virginia?"_

A memory jogged the corporal as he recognized the friendly jab.

"Sergeant Torrez? What the hell are you doing here?"

There was a pause and for a while Tebby heard nothing but static, the Torrez's voice came back.

_"__Ah, corporal, that's a long story and I'd love to tell it to you but right now the clock is ticking. I need you to power up our bird. Don't bother with the preflight crap just slingshot it off the palm tree if you have to but get it in the air, stat."_

The corporal nodded and started toggling the fuel pump and fired up the engines. The dusky silence in the desert was interrupted by the sound of the Sea Hawk's turbine engines whining to life. Tebby spoke into his mic.

"Roger that, sarge. So where am I going?"

Torrez's voice came through the static.

_"__Stand by."_

The blades on the Navy helo slowly started to spin, then the sergeant spoke up in Tebby's headset.

_"__Bravo Six-Three, proceed on heading One Zero Niner. You should see an old city on the horizon."  
><em>

Tebby peered through the windscreen. Sure enough, he could see a city on the horizon.

"Roger that, I have a visual on the city."

Torrez's voice spoke up again.

_"__Copy that, Bravo Six-Three, then continue on your current heading for five klicks then adjust your heading to Zero Zero Fife."_

It was fully dark by the time Tebby flew over the city. It looked odd, he knew it couldn't be Dubai, instead of a skyline of sleek skyscrapers it was a walled-in stone city with narrow streets. He could see people walking and carting about in the darkness, it looked more like the Old City quarter of Doha the last time he was stationed at Al Udeid Air Base in Quatar. What troubled the corporal most of all was the lack of any vehicles beyond carts in the streets. Even the most ass-backwards Third World country would have a few battered old trucks or technicals on the road, but there was no evidence of it. More to the point, he saw no electric lights or power lines snaking from building to building. There were no satellite dishes cluttering the roofs. Tebby had a sinking feeling in his gut that this place was another fantasy world, but he didn't know which. His thoughts were interrupted by Torrez's voice coming in through his headset.

_"__Bravo Six-Three I have a visual on you, put on your NVG's and look for the IR strobe."_

Tebby complied, and the entire world was bathed in bright green. The warm bodies that were walking in the darkness now stood out as bright white. Suddenly something caught Tebby's eye, and he saw a flashing strobe on the rooftop of a taller building. He spoke into his mic.

"Ah Kilo One-Four I have a visual on your strobe, stand by for rooftop pickup."

Tebby could see two persons on the roof, even from this distance he could pick out their helmets and uniforms. Suddenly bright flash caught his eye, and he heard the report of a gun being fired. He saw a third individual dash up a flight of stairs and fire down the stairwell behind him. He then heard a second voice on the radio.

_"__Kilo One-Four this is Kilo One-Two! Be advised hostiles are advancing on our poz! Whoever's picking us up better hustle or it's gonna get hairy."  
><em>

The corporal flying the Sea Hawk didn't recognize the voice, but he wasn't familiar with Torrez's squad. He spoke up again.

"Roger that, be advised Kilo One-Four I am setting this `bird down, stand by."

He pushed down on the collective and pulled back on the cyclic, and the Sea Hawk slowly descended, until it hit the roof with a bump. Immediately he heard the rear door slide open, and heard Torrez shout into his radio.

_"__Dammit private move your ass! We're not waiting on you!"_

Tebby heard the second voice speak up through the static.

_"Flash bang! Cover your eyes!"_

Tebby had barely enough time to look away when he heard an ear-splitting explosion. Then he heard Torrez shout on the radio.

_"__No time like the present, corporal! Get us the fuck out of here!"_

The corporal had no idea who the private flash-banged, but he pulled up on the collective and the Sea Hawk lifted off into the darkness. He keyed his mic.

"So, where to now, Torrez?"

The sergeant spoke up.

_"__Stand by and switch to channel fourteen."_

He then heard Torrez speaking apparently to someone else.

_"Ah, Deadly this is Kilo One-Four, be advised evac helo is inbound."_

Tebby was shocked when he heard a female voice on the radio.

_"__About damned time, I don't know how much longer we can hold on. Tell whatever gruntshit is flying my Bird that if he gets so much as a scratch on the paintjob I'll have his ass."_

The corporal started to speak but Torrez interrupted him.

_"Roger that, Deady, be advised ETA five mikes. Kilo One-Four out."_

Tebby heard no response, but heard a squawk through the static. He spoke through his headset to Torrez.

"Mind telling me what all that was about, sarge?"

He heard Torrez chuckle.

_"Corporal, they say a picture is words, so why don't you point this chopper towards that tacky palace over there with the big-ass dome in the middle."_

* * *

><p><strong>(four minutes, thirty seconds later)<strong>

The palace loomed large in Tebby's windscreen, it was comprised of one massive dome in the middle that was gilded in some shiny metal, with several smaller domes of various sizes surrounding it. The corporal had no idea how the hell such a construct could have been built, let alone how it could be standing. Suddenly he heard the female voice, callsign Deadly, speak up through his headset.

_"Kilo One-Four be advised I have a visual on you, we're on the southeastern most dome."_

Tebby peered through the windscreen and counted no less than four domes on that corner of the palace. He keyed his mic.

"Ah, Deadly, this is Bravo Six-Three, the one ah, piloting your `bird. I have a visual on several domes that are in the vicinity you described, could clarify your position?"

He heard Deadly snort through the radio.

_"Shit the bed! Can't you grunts follow a compass?"_

There was a pause and then female voice spoke again.

_"__Alright, Bravo Six-Three you are inbound on the correct heading, but I need you to come more right."_

Tebby adjusted his cyclic stick, and he heard the voice respond in a sarcastic voice.

_"__Your other right, Bravo Six-Three."_

Quickly the corporal readjusted his heading and he heard Torrez chuckle.

_"Someone's in a pissy mood, by the sound of it."_

Tebby chuckled, but he heard Deadly's voice speak up.

_"I heard that! Bravo Six-Three you're coming right at us, do you have a visual?"_

Tebby flipped down his NVG's again and scanned the area. Sure enough, he saw a bright shape dangling off the side of one of the smaller domes, as he approached he could make out two bodies, one male, one female. The male was wearing similar gear to his, clutching some sort of lifeline in a rappelling stance and was struggling to keep his footing on the dome's gilded surface. The female was on the male's back piggyback-style, and Tebby could see her raise what looked like a radio to her face.

_"Ease off the throttle, Bravo Six-Three! This downdraft is going to blow us off the dome!"_

The corporal twisted the handle on the collective, and eased his right foot off the petal, causing the Sea Hawk to slowly rotate in place. He heard the wind rushing as the rear door opened. He heard Torrez's voice on the radio.

_"__Alright, bank a little bit more to the right…more right, more, more…hold, hold position!"_

Tebby was too focused on keeping the Black Hawk steady to see who climbed in, but he knew they must have gotten aboard when he heard Torrez speak up again.

_ "__Alright, we got `em on board, let's get out of here. Punch it!"_

The corporal heard the rear door slam shut, and immediately his nostrils were assaulted by the overpowering smell of jasmine, spices and other perfumes. Then he looked over to his right only to see a long, bare female leg thrust itself into the cockpit area, followed by another leg, followed by a body dropping in the copilot's seat. The legs' owner was a woman appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing an embroidered brassiere with coins dangling from the hem, and a pair of harem pants in some sort of translucent material. The entire ensemble seemed more appropriate in a Casbah-theme strip club, and he saw several bangle-style bracelets jangling on her wrist. As the woman strapped herself in Tebby noticed a tattoo of a black cobra in crosshairs on her shoulder and a fanged bulldog on her bicep. She pulled on a headset and spoke into the radio, jarring him from his staring.

_"__Bravo Six-Three, I presume?"  
><em>

"Oh, yes ma'am, Corporal Jebediah Tebby, United States Army, 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion, ma'am."

She nodded and held out a hand.

_"__Captain Velinda Pelayo, United States Marine Corps, Force Recon, Helo Squad 169, pleasure's all mine. And if I may ask a favor, corporal?"_

"Um, sure?"

_"Screw your eyeballs back into their sockets and point them out the windscreen. Happy-time will have to wait until we're back on the ground."_

Tebby realized he was ogling and quickly focused on the task at hand. He heard Pelayo speak again, but obviously to someone else.

_"__Private, looks like our savior is one of yours."_

The corporal heard another voice, and this one he also recognized.

_"Kerrriist on a Kawasaki! Is that you Tebby?"_

It sounded like that private from Kentucky that Sgt. Crosby had befriended.

"Pete? Pete Gobbi?"

He heard the private laugh.

_"Yep, in the flesh, and in the case of the capt'n here, literally."_

He heard Pelayo speak again, although this time she chuckled as she spoke.

_"__Knock it off, private. I swear being around you grunts is like being back in J-ROTC."_

Tebby spoke into his mic.

"Okay, so could someone here clue me in on what the fuck is going on here? How the hell did you two end up there?"

Again he heard both Pelayo and Torrez chuckle, and it was Gobbi who spoke up.

_ "__Well, how we got on that dome is a long story, we were trying to escape the palace. Speaking of which at some point we need to retrieve that carpet."_

The corporal shook his head.

"So you were in the palace, why?"

Gobbi continued.

_"Well, y'see I got shanghaied by this gal, and-"_

Pelayo interrupted.

_"__-a princess, private, be specific."_

He heard young private chuckle nervously.

_"__Ah, yeah a princess, and things went kinda south."_

Torrez spoke up.

_"__Private, you're forgetting the most important part where you were the reason this entire mission went pear-shaped. Y'see Tebby, all of this is a result of private here deciding to deviate from the mission parameters, and it wasn't a complicated mission to start with. It was really quite simple actually. All we had to do was observe and report on the happy couple and keep them out of trouble long enough for the sparks to fly. Then the palace guards show up, and all Hell breaks loose. Then Private Prince Charming here decides to go all Leeroy Jenkins and rescue the love-birds all by his lonesome with zero backup."  
><em>

Tebby heard laughter through the static and assumed it was the other two soldiers in back. One of them, the one who threw the flash-bang, spoke up.

_"__Yep, ol' Gobbi managed to save the princess, and then she got all smitten by this blonde, fair-skinned foreigner with the fancy equipment and before you know it, Gobbi was shanghai'd into a shotgun wedding."  
><em>

The corporal laughed at the absurdity of it, then Torrez chimed in.

_"Yeah, then the capt'n thought it would be brilliant idea to infiltrate the palace to extricate the private, and based off her attire you can see how well that went."_

Pelayo protested.

_"Hey, the princess's wing is off-limits to any males who still have their balls attached to their bodies, and given the value you boys put on yours I was the only one who could slip in without raising suspicion. And I would have succeeded, too."_

Tebby's curiosity was piqued.

"So what happened, Captain Pelayo?"

She sighed.

_"You remember the charlie foxtrot that was Operation Gothic Serpent back in Somalia, and how Super-Six Four got shot down trying to secure Super Six-One's crash site?"_

"Yeah."

_"It was like that, except substitute Super Six-Four for me, and substitute the skinny with the RPG for a tall, evil looking fucker. I think he was an advisor or something. Anyways, he caught me just as I was trying to get to the princess's private chambers, and before I could react that asshole pulled this voodoo bullshit on me with his staff and next thing I know I'm in this stripperrific get-up."_

She shook her head.

_"I swear if I catch that fucker I'm gonna to castrate him with my Ka-Bar."_

Tebby heard Gobbi protest.

_"__Hey, none of this shit would have happened if that kid would have just 'fessed up to the princess and told her the truth that he wasn't royalty. Instead that dumbshit just doubled down on the lie, and then everything went to shit. If he had just stuck to the program she wouldn't have run off, they wouldn't have run into the guards and I wouldn't have been in this mess to start with. Speaking of which, we probably oughta swing by the outer wall and retrieve that kid's flying carpet."_

That caused Tebby to pause.

"Say what?"

He heard Pelayo chuckle again.

_"__Yeah, I know, corporal it's unbelievable."_

Tebby shook his head.

"With all due respect, ma'am, you're mistaken. That's not unbelievable. Unbelievable is if some 90 Day Wonder fresh from weekend leave tells a tall tale about going to a strip club and being on the receiving end of a Belgian Strawberry Shortcake. Unbelievable is when my cousin said his pappy caught a ten foot long catfish back in the day. We've crossed the unbelievable line several lines back and is somewhere near the 'I'm throwing the bullshit flag.' line."

This time the laughter almost drowned out the drone of the Black Hawk's engines and the chopping noise of the blades cutting through the air. Torrez finally was able to speak between guffaws.

_"Oh, it gets better, Tebby. Y'see apparently the private had a pet dragon back at his home base but left it behind because he wanted to keep a low profile. Because nothing says low profile like a modern military helicopter in the middle of the medieval Middle East."_

Pelayo interrupted.

_"__Look, boys, as fun as it is to have a laugh at the expense of Private Gobbi we still have a mission to salvage. After we pick up the flying rug I'm heading over to the west wing of the palace so we can retrieve my gear. And at some point we need to bust Prince Idiot out of the brig and try and get him and the princess to kiss and make up."_

The marine captain looked over to Tebby and jerked a thumb over her bare shoulder.

_"__I can take over flying this bird from here, corporal. Why don't you go back and get re-acquainted with your fellow grunts?"_

Tebby nodded and slipped the catch on his safety harness. As the chopper banked off towards the back of the palace, Tebby couldn't help himself and spoke into the mic one last time.

"So Private Gobbi, is your pet dragon named Elliot?"

That caused everyone to burst out laughing, even the captain. Gobbi's voice came through all the laughter and the static.

_"__Sit on it and rotate, Tebby."_

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Yeah, so here's another teaser for the Gobbi storyline, even in medieval Iraq we can still screw things up royally, as demonstrated by Pvt. Gobbi. <em>

_*a redheaded buxom pirate wench comes up and slaps the author's face, hard enough to spin his head around*  
><em>

_I think I deserved that… Like I said I churned this out because I was still recovering from all the angst and 'war is hell' stuff from the previous chapters, so I hope you'll forgive the corny-ness of this chapter. Bonus points to anyone who guessed who the marine pilot is, and the following chapter, which will switch back to the rescue op, should be up in a couple of days, thanks to NaNoWrimO, so stay tuned!)_


	91. Suicide Mission

_(AN: Yep, that last chapter was crackerrific, but it was good therapy after all the 'War is Hell' angst. So, after the last chapter's bit of silliness and sneak preview, on with the show!)_

* * *

><p><em>"Holy crap on a cracker, look!"<em>

Saito's voice jarred Crosby from his thoughts, and he stood up from his seat in the back of the Black Hawk. There was the same floating island in the sky, a sight that never ceased to amaze the Zulu Squad sergeant no matter how long he had been in this bizarre world of magic. But the sight that caused surprise was not the island, but what was guarding it.

There was an entire flotilla of airships buzzing around Albion like bees around a beehive. Saito spoke up again in Crosby's radio.

_"What do we do?"_

The older soldier looked over to McPherson, who overheard the conversation. The lieutenant shrugged.

"If they mean to kill us then there's nothing we can do to stop them, aside from taking a few of them with us."

He looked over to the chopper's other passenger, a blonde girl wearing a green dress an sporting a hefty bust and long, pointed ears.

"Although, in hindsight we probably should have let the walking IED tag along, given her ability to blow shit up."

Crosby chuckled at the thought. The so-called Tristainian diplomatic negotiating team had set out for Albion earlier that morning, and despite Crosby and Saito telling her otherwise, Louise still showed up just before they departed.

"Wait! I want to come with you!"

Saito looked over to Crosby and shook his head. After last night's beating the Tokyo teen was actually looking forward to the mission, if for no other reason than to get away from Louise. Even so, he wasted no time opening the pilot's door and situating himself in the relative safety of the Black Hawk's cockpit. The pinkette started towards the craft, but was stopped by Crosby. She spun around and glared up at the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Unhand me! I must speak with my familiar!"

"No."

"What?!"

Crosby sighed.

"I said no. As in the opposite of 'Yes.' As in you're staying right here because we are travelling to a country that technically is still at war with Tristain."

He saw the pinkette's wide eyes shimmer, so the older soldier dropped down to one knee so as to be on eye level with her.

"I promised your mother I'd keep you safe, but where I'm going is too dangerous."

At the mention of her mother the pinkette stiffened up. Louise had sent word to her mother the day after the battle, telling her of the fantastic weapons the Outworlders used, and he discovery that she was in fact a Void Mage. Before Louise could reply there was a roar above them, and McPherson tensed up, pointing his M-32L grenade launcher at the sky. It wasn't a dragon though.

The creature looked like some sort of winged lion with a reptilian tail, but that wasn't the oddest thing about it. The true oddity was what was sitting on the creature's back, a blonde bespectacled girl wearing an ermine traveling cloak. The creature landed lightly on the ground next to the Black Hawk, and its passenger immediately hopped off its back. As she approached McPherson recognized the stranger as Louise's older sister, Éléonore.

"Chibi-Louise!"

The pinkette almost took a step back, and braced for the cheek pinching that her older sister was notorious for doing. It came as a bit of a shock when Éléonore instead pulled Louise into a tight embrace.

"I'm so glad you're alright! Mother and Cattleya were so worried when they heard about the battle!"

She disengaged from the hug and looked down at Louise.

"And mother said that you found out you're a Void mage! We're all so proud of you, you must tell us all about it when you get home."

The pinkette started to protest.

"But sister! I have to go with my familiar on a secret assignment!"

Éléonore shook her head.

"Nonsense, Mother received a courier last night, stating that Sir Crosby was going on a dangerous mission."

She looked over to the Zulu Squad sergeant, who nodded sagely.

"He asked if you could come home until his return, and so Mother sent me out here to collect you."

Louise's eyes widened at the revelation and spun around to glare at Crosby.

"You set this up didn't you!"

The older soldier shrugged.

"Of course I did. I swore an oath to you mother that I would keep you safe. And if I'm in Albion and you're in Tristain I can't be in two places at once, so this made the most sense."

The pinkette seethed and stomped up to Crosby.

"You treacherous bodyguard!"

She tried hitting him with her riding crop, which the Zulu Squad sergeant promptly snatched out of her hand. He looked over to Louise's older sister and continued.

"I also knew you would be stubborn enough to try tagging along at the last minute, so I hedged my bets."

Louise furiously beat her tiny fist ineffectively against the soldier's leg, but was stopped by Éléonore pinching her cheek.

"Now, there'll be none of that, Chibi-Louise! Mother said you're to come promptly, and even lent me her familiar to make sure you arrived before luncheon."

She started to pull Louise away, the pinkette yelping in pain. Éléonore looked back to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Thank you again for keeping us informed, Mother will be most glad to see her youngest daughter again."

She hesitated for a moment.

"Mother- er, the Duchess de la Vallière also extended an invite for you to visit our estate the next time you are in the area."

She looked back towards the Outworlder's bizarre airship.

"…and to the familiar as well."

Éléonore turned to leave shaking her head at Louise's vocal protests.

"Come on, Chibi-Louise, stop that caterwauling! You'll upset Mother's manticore!"

* * *

><p>Crosby chuckled again at the recollection. It was a dirty trick, but this mission was too dangerous for Louise, even with her newfound powers. As it turned out, Saito's fears were unfounded; he watched as the Reconquista airships drifted aside to grant passage to the Black Hawk flying past them.<p>

"Alright kid, just take it easy. These guys look as scared as we are, let's not give them a reason to fire on us."

Saito looked back at Crosby.

_"With respect, Crosby-san, I'm sweating bullets here, what do you suggest I do?"_

The sergeant shrugged.

"I don't know, fly casually?"

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later)<strong>

The denizens of Londinium were terrified at the droning noise of a bizarre airship. All had heard horror stories from the survivors of the 1st Battle of the Reconquista, about heathen Outworlders and their weapons of destruction. The bulbous airship was fashioned out of green metal, and was held aloft by several spinning blades. It banked sharply to the left, and headed directly for the Palace of the Republic in the center of the city.

Saito peered through the windscreen.

_"That large palace must be the place!"_

Lt. McPherson peered out the side window and pointed.

"That looks like Londinium, although it's hard to tell at this altitude."

Crosby looked over his shoulder and nodded.

"That's the place, set us down in that courtyard."

McPherson slipped the catch on his safety harness and spoke up.

"Alright, lady and gentlemen, I don't need to remind you that ostensibly we're here on a diplomatic mission, so nobody get itchy trigger fingers."

He thumbed the release pin on the grenade launcher and checked to make sure all six grenades were still in the chamber, more out of habit than necessity thanks to the replenishing spell on it.

"Having said that, if any of the Reconquista types try anything I expect you all to defend yourselves, with lethal force if necessary.

The lieutenant placed the grenade launcher in the copilot's chair by Saito.

"Specialist, I want you to stay with the `Bird and maintain radio contact at all times. At the first sign of trouble, I want Bravo Zero in the air and be ready for a hot pickup, understand."

Saito nodded.

"Roger that, sir!"

He looked over to Crosby and Tiffania.

"Sergeant, at the earliest possible time I want you to 'escort' Tiffania out, tell the guards she needs fresh air or something, and locate our contact."

He checked a scroll stuffed in his assault vest and unfolded it. It was a rough sketch of the palace's blueprint.

"Our inside man is a noble by the name of Sir Thomas Epingham, he was the assistant to Cardinal Halstaff, and according to him he knows the location of this secret dungeon where the Reconquista keeps their prisoners. Your job is to infiltrate said dungeon and locate Tebby and or Bowles. Once you have located one or both of them you are to fall back to this servant's entrance here-"

McPherson pointed to a small opening in the back of the palace.

"-and fall back to one of the taller buildings in the square that has the flattest roof. You are to maintain radio contact with Bravo Zero and keep him apprised of your sitch."

He unvelcro'd a pack off his thigh.

"Another thing, if Tebby or Bowles are alive they may have sustained injuries, either on the field or at the hands of the Reconquista, so take this medpack with you."

Crosby accepted the pack, but then spoke up.

"What about you, sir?"

The lieutenant smiled thinly.

"Well, hopefully Cromwell and his cronies won't know it's us, but failing that I can always invoke diplomatic immunity."

The Zulu Squad sergeant seemed doubtful.

"Do you really think that will that work, sir?"

McPherson shook his head.

"Probably not, but they won't kill me on sight, I'll volunteer to stay in some room with guards posted outside, and I'll just make sure it has a nice wide patio or window, then let Bravo Zero pick me up."

He looked back down at the courtyard.

"Looks like we have a welcoming committee, so everybody get ready."

* * *

><p>It took all of Oliver Cromwell's self-restraint to maintain a stoic demeanor as he watched the Outworlder's airship approach the courtyard of his palace. Ironically, it was the same airship that destroyed his ironclad dreadnaught, he noted to himself. The airship circled around before slowly descending down onto the ground. When it landed the blades that held it aloft slowed, and the droning noise that was doubtlessly its means of propulsion lessened. Secretly he yearned to know what made that airship work, for such a craft could change the way the Reconquista waged its future Holy Wars.<p>

He looked back and saw a hatch slide open on the side of the craft, and two men and a girl stepped out. The men Cromwell recognized as Outworlders, by their odd uniforms and armor. The girl looked to be scarcely out of her teens, and he wondered why she was accompanying them. One of the Outworlders, a youngish looking man with dark brown hair and sand-colored clothes approached him and bowed lightly.

"Lord Cromwell, I am 1st Lieutenant John McPherson, and I am here on behalf of her Highness Princess Henrietta of Tristain to discuss a peace treaty with the Republic of Albion."

Cromwell nodded curtly.

"The princess has my thanks for meeting on such short notice."

He looked past McPherson.

"And these must be your diplomatic entourage?"

The Outworlder nodded.

"Indeed, Lord Cromwell. This is my adjunct Sergeant Robert Crosby, and Tiffania, our Albionian cultural expert."

The Reconquista leader raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Zulu Squad sergeant's name.

"Crosby? Interesting. A friend, one Percival Hockspur made mention knowing you. He said that you were an honorable man."

He regarded the Outworlder named Crosby, and noted that this one was clad in black and white armor. He assumed that it was for intimidation. To his credit the Outworlder nodded.

"I did have the pleasure of knowing Sir Percival. Will he be attending these talks?"

Cromwell's face hardened.

"Regrettably, no. You see, he was killed by your companions in the battle."

That hit Crosby emotionally in the gut.

"Percival was killed?"

The ruler of Albion grinned nastily.

"Oh, but he was just one of several thousand casualties that you inflicted, what is one more?"

Lt. McPherson stepped forward.

"With respect, Lord Cromwell, our time is short and I would like the negotiations to commence."

Cromwell face resumed its neutral expression.

"Of course, good sir. Let me show you the way."

As they were led deeper into the palace, Crosby became aware of all the attention they were getting. As a 21st century soldier in a medieval world of magic, he was used to getting stares, but this was different. Everybody in the palace glared at him and McPherson, and them he remembered why. As the Outworlders they represented the ones who killed or maimed over five thousand of Albion's own, so it was small wonder they had just a chilly reception. His thoughts were interrupted when Cromwell came to a halt in front of two large doors. He turned to McPherson.

"Here I am afraid the negotiations must take place between myself and the princess's envoy."

He turned to a smaller man with a mousy face.

"This is Lord Epingham, he will see to the rest of your party's needs whilst we discuss a future peace between our two nations."

The smaller Albion noble bowed low.

"Sir Crosby, miss, if you will accompany me."

Crosby could hardly believe their luck, his handler was their contact on the inside. A more suspicious part of him should have questioned Cromwell's motives, but the sergeant dismissed them. As soon as he was out of earshot from the rest of the party he discretely spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Zero, how are things out there?"

Saito's voice came through the static.

_"Everything's five by five here. There are guards around, but they're keeping their distance."_

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that. Be advised, the operation had commenced. Stay frosty. Iceman out."

As he followed the Albion noble, the sergeant could hardly believe their luck, his handler was their contact on the inside. A more suspicious part of him should have questioned Cromwell's motives, but the sergeant dismissed them. As Sir Epingham escorted them down a side corridor, Crosby failed to notice a dark figure hiding in the shadows of an alcove. As soon as they passed the figure stepped out into the corridor, and it removed its hood with one-hand. Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth glared at Crosby's retreating form.

"Soon, Sir Crosby, soon our unfinished business will be concluded, and I will have my revenge!"

* * *

><p><em>(AN: DundunDUUUUNNN! In the immortal words of Admiral Ackbar:<em>

_ 'It's a Trap!'_

_I know I'm evil for leaving it on this cliffhanger, but at least you won't have to wait long to find out what happens. Should have the next chapter up in a couple of days.)_


	92. Why We Fight

_(AN: See, that didn't take so long, did it? Man, I'm on a roll; over 14K words in just 5 days…here's hoping I can keep this momentum going. Enjoy!)_

"How long did you know him?"

Sir Thomas Epingham paused at a juncture and glanced down the corridors, looking for guards.

"You mean how long was I under the employ of his Eminence Cardinal Halstaff? Almost four years."

The noble lowered his eyes.

"He was a good and holy man. It was a shame that he got caught up in all this mess."

The Zulu Squad sergeant had followed their insider contact to the very heart of the Reconquista movement, deep within the palace. Crosby looked back at Tiffania. The elf girl seemed on edge, her wide blue eyes were darting back and forth at the slightest sound that echoed through the halls. He placed a reassuring hand on her arm, and she jumped, stifling a frightened squeak. Tiffania blushed.

"I'm sorry, Sir Crosby. Something is wrong, I feel…something. There is an unspeakable evil that wanders these corridors, and this disturbance is getting stronger."

The sergeant looked around them, but saw and felt nothing.

"It has to be your imagination, Tiff. There's nothing here."

The elf girl glanced down the hallway they just came from and shook her head.

"Perhaps you are right."

Considering the matter closed, the older soldier turned back to Sir Epingham.

"How much further?"

The short noble pointed to a small side door.

"There, that is the entrance to the dungeon."

Crosby nodded.

"Alright, you stay here with Tiffani and keep her safe, I'll infiltrate the dungeon."

Sir Epingham shook his head.

"No, it is too dangerous. I know the layout of this dungeon."

He closed his eyes and shuddered.

"Brimir knows I've been down there too many times."

The noble looked back up at Crosby.

"I will accompany you, if we encounter any guards, I will be able to throw them off."

The Zulu Squad sergeant opened his mouth to protest, but after processing the information it made sense. Finally he nodded and turned back to the elf girl.

"I'll need you to stay here."

Tiffania shook her head emphatically.

"No! Don't leave me here alone!"

Crosby placed a hand on her bare shoulder.

"It's nasty and dangerous down there. Up here you'll be safe. And if you encounter any guards, just tell them that you got lost and ask to be directed back to the Tristainian diplomatic envoy."

He paused for a moment, then opened a pouch on his assault vest and pulled out his backup M9. He offered it to Tiffania.

"This you should only use as a last resort, only if your life is in danger."

The elf girl gave Crosby a small smile and gently pushed the gun back.

"Thank you, Sir Crosby, but remember I have a few secret weapons of my own."

The older soldier recalled her 'spellsongs' and nodded.

"Ok. Just remember, stay out of sight. This shouldn't take long, but if the shit hits the fan I need you to make back for the rendezvous point, alright?"

Tiffania nodded once, and Crosby turned back to the noble.

"Alright, Sir Epingham lead the way."

* * *

><p>Lt. McPherson frowned at the documents in front of him.<p>

"Forgive my ignorance, Lord Cromwell, but why does Tristain have to contribute to this Reconquista effort that Albion is pushing so aggressively?"

The ruler of Albion, and leader of the Reconquista smiled.

"Because, good sir, the Reconquista's ultimate goals are for the security of all human beings in Helkeginia, nobles and commoners alike."

He pointed to a small paragraph on the parchment in front of the lieutenant.

"It is but a paltry amount, Tristain will agree an annual tithe of one thousand able bodied men between the ages of sixteen and thirty to contribute to this effort."

That number took the lieutenant off guard, and for once McPherson wished he took more debate courses in his ROTC days. He nodded noncommittally.

"Those terms seem reasonable, I will certainly present them to her Highness as such."

Cromwell nodded graciously.

"Which is all that I am asking, that you consider these. Certainly this will have no impact on our future treaty of friendship between our great nations."

The ruler of Albion pulled out another parchment.

"Now, onto the next stipulation; this specifically concerns you, or rather you and your fellow Outworlders. It is no secret that you possess sufficiently advanced weapons and airships that are either powered by magic or technology beyond our comprehension, I would like that to change."

McPherson raised an eyebrow.

"Meaning?"

Crowmwell smiled indulgently, as if talking to a young child.

"Mean, Leftenant McPherson, that Albion would be very uncomfortable if its neighbor and friend Tristain continued to hold an unfair advantage in the ways of waging war."

His smile disappeared and his features hardened.

"I witnessed firsthand what your weapons of destruction wrought on my men, and how many orphans and widows are destitute because of it. To prevent such horrors from happening in the future it would be wise for you to share these secrets with all."

It was McPherson's turn to frown.

"And what would stop Albion, having learned all our secrets, from invading Tristain a second time, only this time with superior numbers **and **superior firepower?"

Cromwell's smile returned.

"And violate our treaty of friendship? Perish the thought! No, my dear boy, think of this sharing of resources as a means to empower the Reconquista to secure the safety of all the nations of Helkeginia, against any and all threats."

The lieutenant shrugged.

"I'll have to consult my commanding officer on that one, Lord Cromwell. And while we're not opposed to sharing in some of our secrets there are certain things that neither Albion nor any nation in Helkeginia are ready to wield."

The leader of the Reconquista nodded.

"Of course, my boy, of course."

Cromwell's patronizing manner was really starting to rankle the lieutenant, and he fought the temptation to check his watch. He hoped that Crosby would locate Tebby and Bowles soon, because he wasn't sure how much more of this political bullshit he could put up with.

* * *

><p>There was a creak and a whisper like wind, and not for the first or last time Tiffania jumped and had to suppress a frightened gasp. She looked back over to the small door that lead to the dungeon, it seemed like an eternity since Crosby and their contact had left her. There was still that presence, an echo of a memory that she couldn't place but also couldn't forget. And despite her assurances to the Outworlder soldier, it was getting stronger. Her sharpened elven hearing picked up a rustle of cloth, like a curtain billowing against an open door, and she spun around abruptly, and collided with a lone figure in a dark traveling cloak. Both Tiffania and the stranger fell to the ground in a heap, and in her struggles to pull herself up, the elf girl pulled on the stranger's hood, revealing a face. Both Tiffania and the stranger stared at each other dumbfounded. The elf spoke first.<p>

"Matilda?! What are you doing here?"

* * *

><p>"This way, Sir Crosby, quickly!"<p>

The noble directed Crosby towards a barred door with cruel iron spikes adorning it. The Zulu Squad sergeant had followed Sir Epingham down a tight claustrophobic stairwell and down into a dimly lit corridor. The walls and floor were rough-cut stone, and the air had the humid smell of filth and old blood. He glanced at the doorway.

"This is the holding area for the political prisoners?"

The noble nodded.

"Yes, but we must move quickly, there are guards that patrol this area."

Sir Epinham pulled open the door and quickly entered, Crosby followed. As was his custom the sergeant checked all corners of the room with his P90, to make sure there was no ambushes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Albion noble close the door behind them. A light went on inside Crosby's head, and he tensed up. In an unnatural calm that made the reputation of his cadre back in Dubai the Zulu Squad sergeant spoke up.

"Just out of curiosity, how is it that you knew about this secret dungeon? I thought only members of the Reconquista knew that."

Sir Epingham smiled.

"Yes, only members of the Reconquista know of it, but I knew of it from before…"

He reached behind him and turned the lock on the door.

"I knew of this place when I turned Cardinal Halstaff over to the Reconquista!"

Crosby spun around and aimed his P90 at the smirking noble.

"Lord Cromwell rewarded me handsomely for giving up the man whose treachery saw Prince Wales killed. Imagine what a reward awaits me for handing an Outworlder over to the Reconquista!"

Crosby was about to speak, but another voice beat him to it. It was a deep, baritone voice that was almost a growl, like that of a predatory cat.

"Is that way you betrayed him, Lord Epingham, for mere coin?"

Both Crosby and Sir Epingham turned to the voice's owner, who stepped out of the shadows. There was the Romalian envoy, Nathanial Garro, standing before them. His grey eyes now burned with righteous anger at the noble, then turned over to Crosby.

"It would appear, Sergeant Crosby, that you have been betrayed."

* * *

><p>Fouquet awkwardly tried to pull herself up, and finally accepted Tiffania's offered hand. As she struggled to her feet she also struggled to process who was helping her up.<p>

"Tiff? I was going to ask the same thing, what in Brimir's name are you doing here?"

The elf girl decided to play it safe and glanced about.

"I-I was part of the diplomatic mission from Tristain, I got lost."

Fouquet nodded and quickly took Tiffania's hand.

"Then you must get out of here now, for your own safety. Things are going to get very messy."

Tiffania resisted and pulled her hand free.

"But why, Mathilda, what is going on?"

Fouquet paused and smiled ruefully.

"I go by Fouquet now, Tiff. Matilda is long gone."

She looked down at the stump that was her hand and her smile disappeared.

"I am also part of something much bigger now, and I have unfinished business to attend to."

It only took the elf girl a few seconds to process what Fouquet said.

"Y-you mean you're part of them? The Reconquista?"

Fouquet lowered her eyes.

"At first, no. I didn't have much of a choice. After my botched attempt to steal the Academy's Staff of Destruction, I was maimed, and imprisoned. Then, as I was awaiting trial, a stranger approached me in my cell and promised me freedom in exchange for my using my talents to advance their cause."

She looked back up, but averted her eyes from the hurt look on Tiffania's face.

"B-but Mat-I mean Fouquet, what about the orphanage? You promised us you would use your skills only to help!"

Fouquet shook her head.

"I tried. I even tried to stay out of all the political intrigue of the Reconquista. But it sucked me in."

She looked down at her stump, and her other bandaged hand.

"Everything changed when we made a bargain with Lord Alduin. Now we have too much blood on our hands, and I have crossed too many lines. We can't go back now."

She looked back up to Tiffania.

"I still need to get you out of here. The guards will be here any moment, and those Outworlders will put up a terrible fight when they're cornered."

Tiffania's eyes widened.

"You mean it's a trap?"

She shook her head and looked back at the small door.

"No! I must warn them!"

But she was stopped by an iron grip. Tiffania turned and saw the woman she once knew as Matilda, the good-hearted thief who stole from greedy nobles to help the orphanage that she and the elf girl grew up in, and was now called Fouquet. Tiffania saw Fouquet's eyes shimmer with tears.

"No. No, Tiffania, I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

* * *

><p>Garro stepped forward, glaring at Sir Epingham. Crosby noticed that the Romalian noble was now wearing a black cassock, edged in scarlet, with a scarlet cape. The large man spoke again in the same, deep growl.<p>

"Why, why did you betray him?"

Sweat appeared on the noble's brow, but he squared his shoulders.

"He was a traitor who was turned Prince Wales over to the Tristainians and sent him to his certain death."

Garro made a dismissive gesture.

"Cardinal Halstaff was also tasked with investigating certain sinister practices that the Reconquista was rumored to be involved in. That wouldn't have been another reason why he was apprehended, would it?"

He glared at the Albion noble, who quailed under the larger man's gaze.

"You are lying, Lord Epingham. So I will give you one last chance. Where is Cardinal Halstaff?"

Garro took another step towards Lord Epingham, causing the noble to jump back.

"For the last time, what have you done with him?"

Before Cromwell could answer, the noble drew his wand and attempted a Heavy Wind spell. But again, Garro was too quick. One of his large hands encased the noble's forearm, and there was a sickening snap like a green tree branch splintering. Lord Epingham's cries of pain were strangled off as Garro's other hand clamped around the noble's throat. The cardinal lifted the noble off the ground so as to be on eye level with him.

"What did you do to Cardinal Halstaff? What have you done to him?"

Lord Epingham struggled against the large man's viselike grip. Garro's voice quivered with uncontrolled fury as he hissed out his words.

"WHERE. IS. HE?!"

The large man loosened his grib marginally, just enough for Epingham to croak out three words. Words that caused Garro patrician features to contort into a feral snarl.

"Cromwell...killed…him."

Crosby watched in horror as the noble's eyes widened as he struggled even more, thrashing about in the large man's grip. The Zulu Squad sergeant heard a sickening cracking noise, like eggshells being crushed underfoot, then the noble ceased his struggling as his head lolled to one side. Then Garro, with a calloused disregard for the dead, threw the body of the dead noble at a the far wall, where it crashed into a heap.

Silence reigned in the dungeon for a long moment, as Crosby was still trying to process what he just saw. The Zulu Squad sergeant had faced a lot in his long career as a soldier, and even more horrors in Dubai. But having seen what this strange man could do with just his fists shook Crosby to his core. He knew Garro was former soldier, but what sort of place would need a soldier who could deal out death in such a calloused manner? And if their contact betrayed them, what if this Garro also had his own agenda? The cardinal gazed at a bloodstained torture rack, then his eyes flicked up to Crosby, and for a moment he saw the hard glint that he knew too well. A soldier who has a kill order. Then his grey eyes softened, and Garro's baritone voice spoke in above a mere whisper.

"I fear we are both too late, Sergeant Crosby."

He looked back at the door.

"You may search the rest of the dungeon, to see if your companion is still alive, or at least for evidence of the Reconquista's crimes if you wish, sergeant. I will see to it that you and your companions have safe passage off of Albion."

Garro turned to go, and the hardness returned to his eyes.

"I have some unpleasant business to finish."

With a sweep of his scarlet cape the cardinal departed, and Crosby was still standing there stunned. After a long while he heard another familiar voice, a soft feminine voice.

**_"_****_He is not here."_**

Crosby turned and saw the Weaver of Fate standing in the doorway.

**_"_****_You are too late, Robert Crosby."_**

She had a slight smile on her lips. but when her gaze fell upon the torture rack her eyes become bright with tears. She turned to look at Crosby.

**_"_****_You must flee, and quickly before…"_**

She was interrupted by a loud shout that echoed down the corridor.

"Oi! That noise came from in here, hurry!"

Two rough men appeared in the doorway, both wearing greasy and stained leather armor that looked like a more tattered version of the Reconquista-aligned footmen. One of them grabbed the Weaver by her slender throat and wrist, sneering to his compatriot.

"What have we here, Soap?"

Her captor leered at her and ran his free hand through her green hair.

"Now what's such a pretty young thing doing in this nasty place, eh?"

Crosby sprang into action and raised his P90.

"Let her go! Or you'll be breathing out of a third hole in your forehead!"

The one holding Tinúviel froze, as there was a red dot that appeared on his forehead. The other one glared at Crosby.

"It's the Outworlder!"

Crosby took a step forward.

"Let her go, I mean it!"

The one called Soap sneered at Crosby, and pulled out a dagger. He put the sharp edge against the green-haired lady's delicate throat and looked back at Crosby.

"If you fire that musket, I'll cut her throat."

He snickered.

"And even if you kill us both you'll alert the rest of the guards. Your weapons make a very distinctive sound, after all."

He pushed the edge of the dagger against the soft skin of the Weaver's neck.

"Now drop your musket and submit, or maybe we'll have our way with this pretty girl before we kill her and take you captive…"

Crosby was furious at himself, letting his guard down. He looked over to Tinúviel, and was shocked that there was no fear in her eyes. In fact, she appeared more annoyed. When the one called Soap started fondling her, she closed her eyes and, to everyone including Crosby's shock, sang out in a voice that was both musical and terrifying.

**_"_****_ENOUGH!"_**

A blinding white flash like lightning sent both her captors flying, and both collided against the far wall of the cell. Crosby reached out to her, but before he could Tinúviel spun around and glared at the two prison guards sprawled on the ground, her green eyes burning with righteous fury.

**_"_****_You!"_** She sang out that same melodious and terrifying voice,

**_"_****_You were the barbaric filth who tormented him!"_**

The stone walls behind the guards rumbled and cracked, and green vines sprung forth from the rent in the wall. They snaked out and coiled around the guards' necks and arms, the vine's thorny barbs biting into flesh and strangling their cries for help. She strode up to them, her radiant face contorted into a ferocious scowl.

**_"_****_Your filth has polluted this Tapestry for far too long, beasts."_**

She raised her bare arms, and more vines sprouted from the ground and walls, encircling their captives.

**_"_****_The very sight of you disgusts me! Behold my wrath, and witness the terrible power of Lúthien Tinúviel, the Weaver of Fate and Mistress of the Celestial Empyrean!"_**

Crosby was rooted to the spot, he had never seen her so angry. She paused in her rant to turned to look back at Crosby, and her eyes softened. She strode up to the soldier and took his hand in hers.

**_"_****_My heart grieves that you were too late for your friend, but take comfort in the fact that Tebby is no longer in the hands of wicked men; I rescued him from a fate worse than death, and to thwart the Evil One's plan."_**

She raised her free hand caressed to his cheek.

**_"_****_You must flee, Robert Crosby, gather your companions and go quickly; you must not fall into the hands of these fools, lest the Evil One's designs come to fruition."_**

She reached up a gave a small peck on Crosby's forehead, and took a step back. The Zulu Squad sergeant nodded and slowly backed out of the cell. Tinuviel watched him leave. As soon as the Zulu Squad sergeant disappeared, she quickly turned back to the two guards, who were still struggling against the vines. The more Soap and his friend struggled, the tighter the thorny restraints bit into their flesh. Blood began to seep and soak through the vines, and the Weaver of Fate continued.

**_"_****_Cease your struggles, beasts. It will avail you not."_**

She smiled, but not a pleasant smile.

**_"_****_Before I send you down to your reward, I will give you a small taste of the torment you inflicted on others, as it will serve as a foreshadowing of what you will suffer for an eternity in the Dark Realm!"_**

_(AN: Wow! Definitely defines the who concept of Beware the Nice Ones and Good is Not Nice. I hadn't had much of a chance for the Weaver of Fate to show off her powers, so this was a good venue for it. Also I felt like our Sphess Mahreen didn't get any screen time in the battle so now he will be flexing his gene-enhanced muscles, so to speak. I wouldn't want to be a Reconquista dude now that Garro is on the warpath LOL._

_On another note, one of the followers had questioned that I hadn't fleshed out Fouquet's origins like in the manga and anime, so this interaction with her and Tiff helped that. It also shows, like in SO:TL that Fouquet, aka Matilda didn't start out evil, but rather started on that gradual slope that leads to her downfall. Next chapter should be up by the weekend, so stay tuned!)_


	93. Jus Tractatuum

_(AN: Well! Got this up quicker than I expected, so yay for me! At least I didn't keep you guys hanging for long…)_

Crosby sprinted up the stairs, trying very hard not to hear the muffled sounds of stifled screams coming from the dungeon. He spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Zero this is Iceman, we're aborting the mission, repeat, we are aborting the mission. Get the bird fired up and prepare for a hot pickup."

He heart Satio's voice on the other end speak up.

_"__Roger that, Iceman. What is the designated LZ?"_

Crosby shook his head.

"Still working on that, Bravo Zero. Stay on the line and I'll tell you when we get there."

The sergeant pulled the door that lead out open, and froze. There was Tiffania waiting for him, but clutching her arm was his old nemesis Fouquet. The thief's eyes glared at him and she pulled the elf girl closer, putting her in a chokehold with her stump arm. Fouquet then pulled out her wand with her good hand, and pointed it at Tiffania as Crosby raised his P90.

"Not another step, Sir Crosby, or the girl gets it."

He paused for a moment, seeing Tiff's pleading eyes. He heard the thief continue.

"Think of it this way, at least you will be reunited with your friend."

She smirked evilly.

"And you'll receive the same hospitality, I'm sure."

Crosby glared at her.

"There you're mistaken. Tebby's gone, out of the Reconquista's reach."

He shook his head.

"Not that it matters, now."

Fouquet's eyes widened.

"What? No, that is trickery!"

The soldier shrugged.

"Don't believe me? Go down there and find out for yourself."

Then he heard the pounding of armored boots on marble, and a squad of Reconquista soldiers lead by a foppishly dressed noble rounded the corner. The soldiers raised their crossbows and aimed them at Crosby, and the noble drew out his wand.

"Lower your weapon, Outworlder, or you will die!"

There was a long pause, as Crosby tried to run every scenario in his head if he didn't surrender, and kept coming up with the same conclusion. Finally he lowered his P90 and dropped it clattering to the floor. The noble walked up and took Crosby's weapon, examining it.

"So this is the magical weapon of the Outworlders? Very interesting. Our alchemists will have a blast dissecting its secrets.'

He turned to Fouquet, who had loosened her grip on the elf girl.

"Lord Cromwell wants the Outworlder and the girl brought to him, apparently he wants to make an example out of one of them."

The thief instinctively pulled the elf closer.

"No, Lord Farquod, this girl is an innocent bystander, I will see to her."

Then Tiffania did something that shocked both Fouquet and Crosby; she shrugged off the thief's grip and padded over to where the Zulu Squad sergeant was stand. She turned to face her captors and squared her bare shoulders defiantly.

"No, I am part of this conspiracy of the Outworlders, and my aim is the same as theirs, to defeat the tyranny that is the Reconquista."

She looked back to the thief, who was still stunned.

"You were right, Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth. The one I knew as Matilda is dead, and will never come back."

Lord Farquod shrugged, and nodded to his crossbowmen, who grabbed both the Outworlder and the girl. They marched their prisoners down the corridor, leaving Fouquet by herself in silence. A voice spoke up behind her.

"Well done, Fouquet."

She spun around and saw cloaked figure lower her hood, her violet eyes glittering in the darkness. Sheffield glanced down the corridor at the sight of their newly acquired prisoners.

"Now we have two more Outworlders, plus that stupid brat. Lord Alduin will be pleased."

Sheffield turned to go, and paused to look back.

"Are you coming? I'm sure Lord Cromwell will have something especially unpleasant in store for them, especially that little whore that followed them here."

That shook Fouquet out of her reverie, and her eyes blazed for reasons that eluded Sheffield. Then the thief lowered her head.

"You go ahead, Sheffield. There's...something I need to look after."

* * *

><p>McPherson looked down at the parchment placed before him and read it over as Cromwell continued to speak.<p>

"…as you can see, this is just a tentative agreement between our two nations to cease hostilities and pursue a path to peace."

He held up another scroll.

"These peace terms you will take back to your monarch for her consideration."

The lieutenant nodded.

"You understand of course that Princess Henrietta will not agree to some of these terms."

The leader of Albion smiled indulgently.

"Of course, but that is the reason this is a negotiation. I fully expect her to come back with a counter-offer and a list of her own demands for us to consider."

McPherson was about to speak when a side door burst open. Cromwell glared at the interloper, who was a short rotund noble.

"What is the meaning of this, Sir Farquod?"

The noble bowed.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Cromwell, but we have found aggressors in our midst."

McPherson's heart sank as he saw Crosby and Tiffania escorted into the chamber under heavy guard. Then a tall women with unsettling violet eyes stepped in the room.

"I caught this one infiltrating our prison, trying to release the traitors and enemies of the Republic."

Cromwell nodded.

"Well done, Sheffield, you shall be rewarded handsomely for your service to Albion."

The Reconquista leader turned back to McPherson, his face split into a slasher's grin.

"So, you have come here under false pretenses, Leftenant McPherson? Your little invasion failed, and now I have hostages that will make my bargaining position much more favorable with Tristain, don't you think?"

The lieutenant looked over to Crosby, and then back to Cromwell.

"Forget it, Cromwell. I can't speak for Tristain, but I know the 33rd doesn't negotiate with their enemies. Especially megalomaniacal religious nut-jobs like you."

Quickly McPherson reached to his right thigh and drew his M9, meaning to shoot Cromwell. But he wasn't quick enough, as the leader of the Reconquista raised his left hand, and a large ring on his index finger glowed. Immediately the lieutenant felt his limbs lock up, and he couldn't move. Cromwell chuckled as he approached the soldier.

"Too slow, leftenant, too slow. You see, there are things that your Outworlder magic cannot counter, and one of them is the power of the Void."

He glanced over to Lord Farquod.

"Take the two Outworlders down to the dungeon with their friend, and have Sappo and Winston soften them up a bit."

Lord Farquod bowed lightly, and Sheffield grabbed Tiffania.

"What about this little whore?"

Cromwell shrugged.

"Take her to the barracks. I heard our footmen are running short on…entertainment."

Crosby shoved aside his captor.

"Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!"

He managed to throw a punch on Lord Farquod, but was quickly restrained by his captors. The Albion noble was about to make a snide comment, but was interrupted by something hitting the main double door to the chamber. There was a commotion outside the door, of men shouting and things crashing on the ground. Before Cromwell could react, all was silent again.

Then there was another colossal crash, that sounded like a battering ram hitting against the door. Three times the door shuddered, and then the door split open, its two halves dangling lazily on their bent hinges, the iron bars holding it bent outwards as if made of melted glass. There entered a large man with a shaven head and cold grey eyes.

"Hold, Lord Cromwell."

Crosby felt relief at the familiar voice. Garro strode into the room, his hands bloodied, and judging by the carnage in the hallway behind him, that was not his blood. To his credit Cromwell waved dismissively at the Romalian envoy.

"This is republic business, Arch-Primate Garro; this is no concern of yours."

Garro shook his head and spoke in a low rumbling voice like a tiger.

"On the contrary, Oliver Cromwell, I am making this my business. And it is Cardinal Garro now, if you please. Pope Vittorio appointed me cardinal to replace Halstaff. And speaking of Cardinal Halstaff, I have some questions for you."

He looked over to Crosby and turned back to the Reconquista leader. His eyes hardened to the color of flint.

"I have heard…disturbing rumors about things that transpire in the clandestine meetings of the Reconquista. I have heard equally disturbing things about what the Reconquista does to its political prisoners and prisoners of war."

He strode among the Reconquista soldiers, whose bravado at capturing one of the Outworlders was wavering under the intense scrutiny of this Romalian cardinal. The fact that he seemed like a coiled trap about to spring, and also stood seven feet tall also had something to do with their unease.

"I will give you one chance of redemption, Oliver Cromwell. Tell me what you have done with Cardinal Halstaff and I will spare your life."

Lord Farquod sauntered up to the cardinal, his cocky manner evident.

"Save your sermons for Brimir's Day, priest, what we do with the enemies of the Republic of Albion is our own business."

The bishop glared and the noble, and took a step towards him, causing the noble to jump back. Two of Farquod's crossbowmen blocked Garro's path. His voice was low, but there was an air of menace to it, like a snake hissing.

"Get out of my way, fools."

When one of them attempted to push Garro back, as quick as lighting he grabbed the haft of his crossbow and backhanded the soldier, who flew back and hit the paneled wall. Then the cardinal turned back to face Lord Farquod, who seemed less confident than he was a few minutes ago. Garro advanced on the noble without taking his piercing gaze from Farquod. The noble drew his wand, but as before with Epingham, Garro was too quick. One of his large hands encased the noble's forearm, and the cardinal pulled the noble in close, and he glared down at him. Then he did something that shocked even Crosby. Garro spat on the face of Lord Farquod.

Almost instantly the flesh on the noble's face began to sizzle and melt, Lord Farquod screamed in pain, his free hand clawing his face as the flesh sloughed off. Garro stood there impassively, still clutching the unfortunate noble, and watched as the man's eyeballs shriveled back into bloodied sockets. Tiffania blanched, and Crosby had to grab the elf girl to prevent her from collapsing onto the ground. Garro wiped a small bit of the acidic bile from his lips and turned to glare at Cromwell, who was sweating profusely.

"W-wait, please your Eminence! I will tell you everything!"

Garro shook his head.

"The time for talking is over, Oliver Cromwell."

The Reconquista leader dropped to his knees at the feet of the cardinal.

"Please! In Brimir's name I beg mercy!"

The cardinal paused.

"You? Beg for mercy? That is a novelty."

The large man's hesitation was all the opening Cromwell needed. Quick as lightening he pulled a dagger out of his sleeve and sprang forward, plunging the dagger into Garro's chest. The cardinal took one step back, staring incomprehensibly at the handle sticking out of his chest. For a moment it seemed as though Cromwell had missed his mark, as the larger man didn't react. Then Garro did something that shocked everyone in the room.

He laughed.

It was not a pleasant laugh, but a harsh, mocking bark of a large predatory animal. He glared at Cromwell, and without breaking eye contact pulled the dagger out of his chest. To Crosby's shock, there was only a small trickle of blood that oozed from the wound, and it already appeared to be congealing. Garro looked down at the blade, which looked tiny in his massive hands.

"Foolish pathetic little man, you wished to kill me in this cowardly fashion? To beg mercy and then kill the one who would grant it?"

Cromwell raised his hand and the ring glowed as he began to recite an incantation, but his spell was cut short when his hand was crushed by Garro's much larger fist. Immediately the spell holding McPherson ceased and the lieutenant collapsed to the ground.

"I have had enough of your perfidy, and your petty witchcraft will not avail you. I have faced more powerful psykers than you, Cromwell."

He looked down at the dagger again.

"Your mistake was underestimating me. You did manage to get this dagger into my heart…but unfortunately for you, my Father gave me a spare one."

He gave Cromwell a smile more appropriate for a crocodile or a shark, and continued.

"You could have tried to poison me, but my Father gave me an enhanced organ that could distill it before it reached my bloodstream. You could have tried to drown me, but with my spare lung I still can breathe without air. You could have inflicted deadly wounds that would have killed fourscore men, and my enhanced blood would heal them before I would bleed out."

Sheffield violet eyes were wide with fear, and she ran to her leader's aid, only to be backhanded by the cardinal. The blow sent her flying back, and she collided with Cromwell's desk, shattering it by the force of her impact. Garro continued to advance on his prey.

"Whereas you born a mere man I was made, forged into a weapon of war to withstand the things of your worst nightmares. There is very little in your little island, or even this pathetic world of heretics, witches and xenos that could kill me, Cromwell."

Cromwell looked terrified as the man loomed over him. Garro continued.

"In killing a member of His Holiness' court you have made an enemy of Romalia. In killing Halstaff, who was a friend, you have made an enemy of me."

"W-what are you?"

Garro put both hands on either side of Cromwell's head and lifted him bodily up, so they were eye to eye.

"I am an Angel of Death, Cromwell; it is what I was made for, and in spite of everything I have done to suppress it, it is what I have become. And today I am the harbinger of your death as well as that of the Reconquista."

He placed both thumbs over Cromwell's eyes, and instantly the man began to scream in pain. There was a sickening crunching noise, and Cromwell's screams intensified, raised in pitch to that of a dying animal, until with a sickening crunch the man's skull burst like a ripe tomato. Bone fragments, teeth, grey matter and blood spraying in every direction, splattering the walls and the large man still clutching the mangled corpse. Garro dropped Cromwell's body to the ground and turned to face the terrified Reconquista soldiers, his appearance all the more frightening since his face and vestments were covered in Cromwell's blood. The cardinal watched as Crosby pushed past his captors to help Lt. McPherson to his feet, then he glared at Sheffield. The violet-eyed witch had somehow survived the impact and was struggling to her feet among the debris that was a desk.

"Because of your leader's treachery I am invoking Romalia's rite of _jus tractatuum_, you will let the envoys of Tristain leave in peace. If you interfere you will have to answer to His Holiness Pope Vittorio."

Sheffield protested.

"B-but they were here under false pretenses, they killed our soldiers!"

Garro snorted.

"They were trying to rescue one of their own, a prisoner of war that you were illicitly torturing, which goes against the Precepts set forth by His Holiness."

She looked back at Cromwell's lifeless corpse.

"But Cromwell…"

"...is dead, witch, dead by my hand. I executed him for killing a member of Pope Vittorio's court."

He pointed a bloodied finger at Sheffield.

"And before you get any ideas of retribution, remember: you need the support of Romalia if you intend to continue this petty little Holy War of yours."

He bent down and pulled the ring off Cromwell's hand. The cardinal walked over to where Lord Farquod's corpse was and with a jerk pulled Crosby's submachine gun off it. In spite of the morbid situation the Zulu Squad sergeant thought his weapon looked small and comically toy-like in the hands of Garro. The Romalian noble walked over and handed the P90 to Crosby.

"A true soldier should never surrender his weapon, sergeant."

He smiled as if jesting as he spoke, then Garro then offered the sergeant the ring, which also looked tiny in his much larger hand.

"I believe this belongs to someone else, you can return it now and have your oath of the moment fulfilled."

Garro nodded to the soldiers cowering in the corner.

"Leave us, now."  
>The soldiers wisely stepped away from their captives and ran out the side door. Garro nodded to the two soldiers and the elf girl.<p>

"We should be going. They will not keep us, but I fear we have worn out our welcome in Albion."

As the group started to leave Sheffield spoke out again.

"But what will we tell the people of Albion?"

Garro turned and sneered at the woman.

"Tell your peers and the mindless fools who follow you that Cromwell was stabbed in the back by one of his own for his incompetence."

He looked over and saw the thief Fouquet standing there, her mouth agape at the carnage in the room. Garro chuckled humorlessly.

"It wouldn't be the first time such a thing would have happened in your court, I'm sure."

_(AN: so there's a bit more nightmare fuel for you, showing really once and for all that you don't go toe to toe with an Astartes, even one without his weapons or armor. So now what? The head of the Reconquista has been severed (literally) and the peace treaty is on shaky ground…what's next? Well stay tuned and find out!)_


	94. Interlude: A Devil Dog and a Vampire

_(AN: Okay, so to celebrate a milestone in this fic I've decided to do more interlude chapter for a fellow writer here on FF. Some of your might remember circa the 'Buried Treasure' arc that Crosby mentioned the Marine HECU unit from Black Mesa showing up in Dubai. So I decided to do a drabble to show what happened to one of those Marines that Crosby knew. _

_First of all, disclaimers still apply: Half Life and Opposing Force belongs to Valve Software and its affliliates, Black Mesa belongs to The Crowbar Collective, Rosario + Vampire belongs to Akihisa Ikeda. Lance Corporal Ross Schmidt and PFC Scott Riley are OC's of Jeggetts, used with permission. For those not familiar with the backstories, read Jeggetts' fic _A Familiar Force_, but the Reader's Digest version is that they are part of the HECU Marine unit that cleaned up Black Mesa, and currently they are evacuating the facility in anticipation of the airstrike.) _

Cpl. Ross Schmidt had no idea where he was. He remembered getting on the Osprey and evacuating Black Mesa. He remembered feeling like shit for all the shit that transpired at the facility, but orders were orders. He remembered that his squad-mate Riley was being a dick as they flew away from the facility. Then out of the blue something hit their Osprey, and there was a bright flash of light, and he found himself standing in a dark void, remembering.

One memory that stuck in his mind was their last mission before Black Mesa. The Pentagon sent them to Dubai, where the sandstorm of the century was under way, to see if it was a terrorist act or man-made. It sounded fishy, but Cpl. Schmidt was a Marine, and Marines follow orders. As soon as they arrived, he realized the truth. The storms were getting worse, and the Emir of Dubai was doing nothing to prepare or prevent the catastrophe from happening. And there was another complication. The 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion, nicknamed the Damned 33rd, was commanded by Colonel John Konrad, a legend even in Marine circles. He had been ordered by the Pentagon to evacuate what few American citizens were left in Dubai and to leave, and he defied that order.

The tension in the debriefing rooms was palpable, with Ross's fellow Marines whispering words like 'traitors' and 'deserters', and their Army counterparts were probably thinking the same thing. There was one member of the Damned 33rd that Ross remembered, a tough-looking old sergeant by the name of Crosby who helped get Ross's squad settled in at an abandoned resort hotel by the Aquatic Coliseum. It was Crosby who had managed to acquire the new album of Ross's pop idol crush, much to the chagrin of the rest of his squad. Ross remembered the night before the HECU unit left, they had received their marching orders to contain an 'incident' at a top secret government facility code-named 'Black Mesa'. That night he and the older sergeant shared a beer, standing on the balcony of the hotel suite that was their barracks and looking out over the city and the sandstorms beyond.

"It's going to be worse, kid." Crosby said as he took another sip of beer.

Ross shrugged.

"Not much we can do about it, sarge."

"You could stay."

The younger Marine turned to stare at Sgt. Crosby, to see if there was any hint of humor in his voice.

"Say what?"

Crosby turned to Ross.

"You heard me, you've seen what's going on here, and the fact that nobody is lifting a finger to help. Rumor has it the Emir is evacuating all his family and friends and is going to leave the workers and civvies her to die."

The sergeant finished his beer.

"Konrad has a plan. He wants to get all the civilians out of danger, hunker down to ride out the worst of the storm. Then, when the time is right, stage an epic evacuation by car, bus, truck, anything that has more than two wheels and is powered by a motor."

He looked at Ross intently.

"We need every swinging dick on deck to pull this off, Schmidt. We really could use your help."

The Marine continued to stare at the sergeant as if he had grown a second head.

"You want us to ignore our orders and stay behind?"

Crosby shrugged.

"Why not? We are."

Ross Schmidt had debated the finer points of it to Sgt. Crosby for hours, and finally he concluded that this Konrad was off his rocker and his subordinates weren't too far behind him. He felt bad for the older sergeant, and he hoped that whatever went down in Dubai that Crosby got a better shake than the HECU did in Black Mesa. At least the 33rd was trying to safe civilians. The soldier's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a silky rasping voice behind him.

"Sssooo. Here we are."

The corporal spun around, and to his shock, he saw an older gentleman wearing a grey suit and a red tie, holding a briefcase. It was the HECU's government liaison, whom all the Marines nicknamed 'the G-Man.'

"A real shame what happened in Black Mesa. Such a pitiful waste of resources."

Ross glared at the man.

"What the hell are you doing here? And where the hell are we?"

The G-Man smiled, but it was like predator baring its teeth.

"How very astute of you, knowing where you are. As to why I am here, I am here to offer you a proposition."

He glanced about in the void.

"Although something tells me that you don't have a much of a choice in the matter."

The soldier folded his arms.

"I'm listening. Start talking."

The G-Man was about to speak when Ross heard another voice. It sounded like the antithesis of the G-Man's sinister voice; it was a soft, lilting melodious voice. And it was distinctively feminine.

**_"_****_Do not listen to the beast's lies, there is always a choice." _**

Both the soldier and the G-Man turned to see the owner of the voice, and the sight took Schmidt's breath away. It was a lithe figure wreathed in white light. As his eyes acclimatized to the bright light, the corporal saw that it was indeed female. She was tall and slender, with pale skin and wearing a wispy thin toga-like dress that was purple with gold bordering. He was mesmerized by her eyes, which were a deep forest green. It took Ross a few moment to process that her long flowing hair was also green. She slowly and gracefully strode up to the soldier, standing between him and the G-Man.

**_"_****_Lance Corporal Ross Schmidt, you were a loyal soldier whose obedience led you to commit atrocities, because you thought there was no other choice, but there is always another way."_**

Ross was lost in her eyes, but his reverie was jolted when he heard the G-Man speak, and he sounded angry.

"What is the meaning of this? You're not permitted here! Get out!"

She seemed not to hear the G-Man, or else she was ignoring him. The lady reached out with a delicate hand and caressed Ross's cheek, sending shivers down the corporal's spine . The G-Man barked out at her.

"Did you hear me?! You have to leave, now!"

Finally the lady turned around.

**_"_****_Be silent, beast. You may wear the skin of a man, but I know your true form. I have every right to be here, `tis you that are the interloper."_**

The G-Man glared at her and walked up to her, grabbing the lady by her elbow and tried to pull her away from Ross.

"I said leave! You're not permitted in here!"

Ross stepped forward to intervene, but as it turned out he didn't have to. The lady shook herself free from the G-Man's grip and turned to face him.

**_"_****_Keep your filthy tendrils to yourself, beast. This is your only warning, leave. Now."_**

The G-Man, or whatever it was, looked shocked at her defiance, and a Gartantua appeared behind him. He turned to the creature, and spoke in a hissing alien tongue, but Ross understood what he said.

"Kill her, and bring the soldier to us."

Ross again reached out to the lady. He didn't have any weapons on him, but he still felt the need to protect her, he had seen what these Xen creatures could do. But, to the corporal's surprise, the lady simply raised her hand and snapped her fingers. In a puff of smoke the Gargantua disappeared, and in its place was a small blue kitten, that looked up at the G-Man and meowed questioningly at him. The G-Man's pale grey eyes widened at the sight, and looked back to see the lady walking up to him. He took a step back, and held up a forestalling hand.

"Now, let's not do anything rash, shall we?"

The lady looked back to Ross, then smiled.

**_"_****_You have had your chance to leave in peace, beast. Now you shall know whom you are dealing with; I am the Weaver of Fate, in this Tapestry and others I pluck threads out before they are cut, and weave them into other Tapestries where their patterns can be altered for the better. `Tis also my duty to remove any threats to those threads."_**

Her green eyes narrowed at the G-Man.

**_"But y_****_ou are no threat, beast. You are but a nuisance. And your appearance sickens me."_**

She raised her hand again and snapped her fingers. Ross stared as the G-Man disappeared in a puff of smoke. Standing in the mystery man's was a small horse, with light grey pelt and a white mane. It's large eyes looked down at its rounded hooves and let out a frightened yelp.

"What have you done?!"

Ross was shocked. It was the same voice as the G-Man, but it had a high, squeaky tone to it. He couldn't help it, he started to chuckle at the sight. The pony glared past the lady at Ross.

"Stop laughing! It's not funny!"

The soldier saw the lady cover her mouth and giggle musically.

**_"_****_On the contrary, `tis most amusing."_**

The pony tried to stand on its hind legs, only to tumble over into a heap. As it struggled to its feet the pony glared at the lady.

"Turn me back this instant!"

She shook her head.

**_"_****_As I said, you are a nuisance who would not leave. Now that you have witnessed my powers, you will leave us. Begone."_**

The G-Man turned pony opened its mouth to protest, only to disappear as the lady snapped her fingers again. She turned back to Ross, who was trying to keep the laughter under control.

"That's a pretty fancy magic trick."

She smiled at him.

**_"_****_It is, but `tis no trick to it."_**

The lady looked around in the dark void.

**_"_****_I have something to discuss with you, Ross Schmidt, but let us discuss it in a more pleasant place."_**

She snapped her fingers again, and Ross was blinded by a bright white light. When his eyes readjusted to the light he saw that he was standing in a forest, with large trees and leaves that glistened in the light like emeralds.

**_"_****_This place `tis less dreary, don't you think?"_**

Ross nodded.

"Um, is this Heaven, are you an angel?"

She smiled and shook her head, her green tresses swishing.

**_"_****_Not in the way you think, Ross Schmidt. As I told your former master I am the Weaver of Fate, and this is my realm, the Celestial Empyrean. I weave threads in many Tapestries, and break fate's cruel chain so the patterns change for the better."  
><em>**

She reached out an placed a hand on Ross's assault vest, approximately where his heart was.

**_"_****_You have a good heart, Ross Schmidt, and I know you wanted to save those people. T'was your blind obedience that doomed them, not you."_**

She looked up at him, her green eyes shining.

**_"_****_There is another Tapestry, one where your good heart can help, where an ancient Evil is about to be unleashed upon it and you can stop it. If you agree to this task then I will grant you your heart's desire."_**

The soldier was having trouble processing it, but something clicked.

"Oh, so I get to be the knight in shining armor who saves the day?"

The Weaver of Fate smiled again.

**_"_****_Yes. In a manner of speaking."_**

He grinned.

"So I become the hero, get the girl and all that jazz, huh?"

She covered her mouth and giggled, as if she were privy to a joke Ross didn't tell.

**_"_****_Yes, you will have the most beautiful woman as your beloved, and she will not be able to resist your charm." _**

Ross shrugged.

"Well, what are we waiting for, do I need to click my heels three times and say 'there's no place like home'?"

The Weaver of Fate didn't respond, but reached out with touched Ross's vest with the tip of her finger.

* * *

><p>Then he woke up with a start. As he took in his surroundings Ross saw that he was sitting on a bus seat. He looked out the window, and the countryside looked like Japan. He had been stationed in Okinawa before transferring to the HECU unit, so he recognized the small buildings, and scores of schoolgirls on bicycles. He looked back down at himself. He was still whole, but instead of his black and white HECU camo he was wearing standard MARPAT ACU's. His pack and gear were on the seat next to him, and his M4 assault rifle was lying on the floor with the butt resting against the seat cushion.<p>

"Finally, you're awake."

He heard a baritone voice speak, and he saw that the bus was entirely empty, save for the driver. The marine stood up, and made his way to the front of the bus.

"Where am I?"

The driver, who looked unremarkable save that his cap was pulled down so far you couldn't see his eyes, took a puff from a long thin cigar and shrugged.

"Now you're just putting me on. Where do you think everybody is going at this time of year?"

Schmidt shook his head dumbly, still staring at the driver. There was something odd about the way the man spoke. The driver continued.

"You're off to school, young man."

Ross glared and started to protest, when he caught a look of himself in the bus's fisheye mirror. At first glance Ross thought he looked the same. He still had the same blue eyes behind his civilian glasses, although maybe it was the mirror but they seemed larger. He still had the same brown hair cut in the traditional Marine Corps 'high and tight'. But his mouth was hanging open in shock, because of the face. He didn't had the scar on his chin from where a LAV-25 door hit him in the face in Iraq, his nose was wasn't crooked from the barracks fight he had with the loudmouth Riley. He was, for lack of a better word, young again. He brought a hand to his face, as if he still didn't believe it. His shock was interrupted by the bus driver speaking up.

"You'd better take a seat, we're about to enter the tunnel."

The marine saw a tunnel entrance ahead and nodded dumbly. Slowly he walked back to his seat, and flopped down. None of this made sense, it had to be a dream. Then something made him pause. Maybe Black Mesa was all a dream, and his interactions with the G-Man and the pretty lady with green hair was a dream as well. He pinched himself and yelped. Yeah, he definitely wasn't dreaming. His thoughts were interrupted the bus coming to an abrupt stop.

He looked up, the bus driver had turned around.

"This is where you get off, young man."

He nodded upwards.

"Don't forget all your luggage."

Ross stood up and stuffed his peaked utility cover on his head, then leaned down and grabbed his rifle and gear. He slung his pack over one shoulder, pulled on the sling for his M4 and secured it, then reached above him for his duffel bag. Judging by how heavy it was it had to have all of his worldly possessions in it. As he disembarked off the bus the driver spoke again.

"Good luck at your new school, kid. You'll need it."

The marine turned around to ask what the driver meant by that, but the door rolled shut and the bus made a ponderous U-turn, then left. Ross shrugged and picked up his duffel bag and turned around to see a large orange fanged face leering at him. He let out a rather un-Marine-like yelp, stumbled over his duffle bag and landed on his butt. Staring down at him was a scarecrow topped by a grinning Jack O'Lantern. There was Japanese writing on a sign underneath the pumpkin, writing that surprisingly enough Ross could read.

**Yokai Academy, 2 km.**

He shook his head. What the hell was he doing going to school again, the lady told him that he was going to make a difference and resolve an ancient conflict and get the girl if he was back in high school? And if he was back in high school, what the hell was he doing with his Marine gear? And how the hell was he supposed to get there?

A wind blew and rustled the scarecrow, its arms oriented towards a small path that led into the woods, as if pointing the way. Ross shrugged and picked up his duffel back. At least the trail might lead to a phone or something.

As he made his way through the woods Ross couldn't help but be creeped out. The whole place felt…off. It felt like the haunted hayrides he used to take as a kid with his parents back home. He looked off to his left.

Wind blowing through creepy old trees, check.

He heard a screech, and looked up.

Sinister looking bats nesting in said creepy old trees, check.

Ross closed his eyes and shook his head.

Great, he said to himself, all we're missing now is a creepy old abandoned graveyard.

Something caught his booted foot, and the marine almost tripped. Ross fumbled with his gear to pull out his flashlight. It wasn't dark when he set out, but in the darkness of the thicket he could scarcely see a yard in front of him. When he pushed the button on his light Ross froze. The thin beam of light caught a worn out old headstone fashioned in the shape of a fanged, horned gargoyle. He cursed out loud.

"Shit."

His voice echoed through the woods, as if the wind was carrying it. Then, as the echoes died out, Ross's ears through he heard something. He couldn't make out what it was, but there was one thing he was certain of. It was getting louder, and that meant it was coming right towards him. He dropped his gear and duffel bag and quickly brought his weapon to bear. He looked down and cursed again. Of course his magazines and ammo would be secured, since he was traveling on civilian transportation.

As he got down on one knee to rummage through his pack he wondered what Gunny Sergeant Dwight Barnes would have said to such an amateur mistake. The drill instructor would have probably uttered a long stream of inventive expletives that called into question Ross's manhood and whether his conception was a paid transaction. Ross looked up and still saw nothing, but the sound was coming closer. Finally he found a spare mag, and he tried to stuff it into the underside of the rifle's receiver, but it wouldn't go in! In his haste and fear he Ross failed to realize that he was trying to put the M4 magazine backwards.

Panic raced up Ross's spine as sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked up again, and swore he could see some large malevolent shape in the darkness. Knowing all the horrors his unit faced at Black Mesa, he didn't want to face this creature unarmed. Suddenly something swooped past his face and Ross panicked.

Only to see a small, pudgy bat, squeaking as it flapped past his face and back into the darkness. Ross chuckled to himself, and thanked his stars again that Gunny Barnes wasn't here. He could imagine the DI chewing him out.

"What is your major malfunction, Corporal? Look out Marines, it's a man-eating little itty bitty bat! I think my bunny slippers just ran off and hid under the fucking bed in terror! Someone call the fucking Pentagon and report this, they gotta raise the Terror threat level to Shitting My Fucking Pants because there's a cute little bat on the loose!"

The marine shook his head and lowered his rifle. And then something collided into his back and said something went flying over his head. As he fell face-first Ross saw stars, but through the haze of the spots and stars he caught sight of two things, a bright red bicycle that was tumbling end over end, and a pair of pink panties flashing from a flared up pleated skirt. He fell to the ground and reached out to push himself up. His right hand hit the rough, mossy ground, but his left hand landed on something warm and soft. It was a slender, pale thigh, attached to a leg, attached to a girl.

She was a teenager like him, he couldn't tell her exact age but she couldn't be older than him. She was also tall, and had very fair skin. She had strawberry blonde hair that came down to her waist, and was wearing some sort of school uniform that consisted of a blazer and a short pleated skirt. Like Ross she was also dazed from the collision, then she opened her eyes, and it took the corporal's breath away. She had vivid green eyes, and they seemed a bit large, like his, which Ross also found odd. Those green eyes focused on him, and that is when things got weird.

Lance Corporal Ross Schmidt never believed in love at first sight, ever since his crush laughed at his offer to dance at junior prom. But now Lance Corporal Ross Schmidt was smitten. He once recalled one of his fellow Marines, the nerdy private named Heiner, who was into those weird Japanese cartoons, and listened to the guy talk about how when the love birds professed their love for one another the background went all pink and fluffy and hearts appeared everywhere. As weird as it sounded when Heiner described it, that is exactly what was happening to Lance Corporal Ross Schimdt right now. He was in love with the girl sitting on the ground in front of him. He then realized that his hand was still on her bare thigh.

"Ah, yikes! Sorry about that! It's just something hit me and I-"

The girl let out a frightened yelp, but quickly got over her initial fright, and smiled at him.

"Oh, hello! Sorry hitting you, I lost control of my bicycle on the way to school."

She looked down at the ground, and saw Ross's own admission letter. She looked back up and directly at him, giving him both barrels with her shimmering eyes.

"Oh! You're a student as well?"

Ross nodded dumbly, although if she asked if he was a purple dinosaur he would have nodded as well. She had a very pretty voice, even if she spoke in an odd sing-songy manner. The girl looked over his uniform and gear.

"Oh, you're wearing such funny clothes, are you from America?"

Ross finally found his voice.

"Ah, yeah I am."

The girl paused.

"Oh dear, where are my manners? My name is Moka, Moka Akashiya!"

The Marine-turned teen smiled.

"My name's Schmidt, Corporal Ross Schmidt."

She giggled.

"Corporal?! But you're not in the military, are you? You're too young!"

Ross inwardly cursed and quickly recovered.

"Ah, yeah but I'm in JROTC, and I transferred from my high-school to here."

She nodded once.

"That's so cool! Um…"

Moka blushed and toyed with her fingers.

"I-I'm new at this school, I don't have any friends yet, will you be my friend?"

Again the corporal, still hypnotized by her eyes, nodded dumbly.

The girl called Moka let out a squeal of glee and hugged him. That was when Ross found that the girl had a nice bust. She pulled back and let out a gasp.

"Oh dear! You're bleeding! Here, let me help you."

Before Ross could protest, she pulled out a kleenex and started dabbing at a cut on his cheek. He didn't mind, as the girl called Moka leaned in. She smelled very nice, and he was getting a nice view of her cleavage. Then the girl looked at him longingly.

"Oh…Ross I know we just met, and I'm so sorry for this, but I can't help myself. You smell so good!"

And she leaned in and, to Lance Corporal Ross Schmidt's surprise, she bit him on the neck.

CHOMP! SLURRRRP!

_(AN: Yeah, so poor Ross got exactly what he wanted. Well, since he was the least tool-like of the jarheads in Black Mesa I decided to go easy on him, if you call being stranded in a school for monsters and an unwanted harem going easy on him. Anyways, this is just a one-shot for now, might turn into a full-blown story, depending on if I can make it work.)_


	95. Truth Revealed

_(AN: So enough of the interlude chapters, for those of you who were curious about Garro's background, now we get a bit of a glimpse.)_

Nobody spoke as the Black Hawk helicopter soared through the late afternoon skies over Albion. The elf Tiffania was so frightened that she asked to ride up front with Saito. The 33rd's other traveling companion was as silent and immovable as a granite statue. Cardinal Garro hadn't spoken a word since he set foot aboard their chopper, he just sat down on one the benches. After witnessing his rather brutal execution of the leader of the Reconquista, neither McPherson nor Crosby felt like talking. There was no doubt in Crosby's mind that Oliver Cromwell had done terrible things, and his minions in the Reconquista were guilty of atrocities like the imprisoning and torture of Tebby and Cardinal Halstaff. But the sheer scale of violence that the Romalian envoy dealt out shocked Crosby to his core. Finally the large man spoke, his deep, accented voice carrying over the din of the chopper's engines and blades.

"Have the pilot set us down over there."

Garro pointed at a small clearing with a river nearby. Through the window Crosby could see Albion's airship port close by as well. He spoke into his radio.

"Specialist, set us down by that river."

He heard Saito acknowledge and the Black Hawk banked sharply on its new heading.

When they had set down Tiffania wanted to stretch her legs, McPherson ordered Saito to accompany her, and said he would guard the chopper. That left Crosby with the dubious honor of keeping an eye on the cardinal as he made his way to the river to clean himself. Garro removed his bloodstained cape and cassock, then removed his clerical cravat and linen undershirt, carefully folding them, and then knelt down on the grassy banks and dipped his bloodied hands in the water, splashing it on his face and chest. Then he reached for the bloodstained clothes and wrung them in the water to remove the stains.

Crosby intentionally had tried to keep an eye around so as not to stare, but when the large man removed his shirt, the sergeant's eyes widened at the sight.

Garro appeared to be larger, as if his clothes somehow had contained his bulk, the man's body was an entire canvas of chiseled muscle and dense bone. There were small metallic plugs on Garro's spine that looked like cybernetics, as well as an entire web of scar tissue all over his back. When he turned to face Crosby the sergeant was greeted with another shock. Garro had no ribcage, and there was a black sheath that ran just underneath his skin from below his slab-like pectoral muscles to his abdomen. The large man's grey eyes regarded Crosby's scrutiny with amusement, and a small smile played on Garro's lips as he spoke.

"As you doubtlessly can infer, I am not entirely human, sergeant."

Crosby finally was able to speak.

"W-what are you?"

Garro smiled ruefully.

"A weapon, sergeant. A weapon forged in an age of strife to fight the enemies of mankind."

"But from where?"

The large man reached down and shook out his linen shirt, still stained with the faded orange where the bloodstains were.

"Not so much where, as when. But before I answer your question, let me ask you one. How long have you been here?"

Crosby didn't know how to respond, so Garro continued.

"You are not from Helkeginia Sergeant Crosby. Your armor and weapons do not belong here."

He looked over to the Black Hawk helicopter.

"And your transportation also is as alien to this world as I am."

The large man raised an eyebrow.

"Although I am curious, where did you come from? What era?"

That caused the Zulu Squad sergeant to pause.

"Originally? Fort Benning, Georgia. As to when, last time I checked it was still 2013."

He saw the odd look Garro was giving him so he elaborated.

"21st century Earth, if you want to be more specific."

That caused the large man's eyes to widen.

"The early 3rd Millenium? You were from earliest era of Terra? And from Merica?"

Crosby didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded.

"Interesting. Now I understand. What was it like, in that time of Humanity's infancy?"

The sergeant shrugged.

"It has its ups and downs. Aside from all the wars we were fighting."

Garro chuckled humorlessly and nodded as well.

"It appears as if war is the only constant in Humanity's history."

There was a bit of silence between the two, until Garro spoke again.

"You didn't answer my question, sergeant. How long have you been here?"

The sergeant finally spoke.

"Several months, I don't know exactly how long. It seems like an eternity."

Garro nodded.

"I arrived on this world three years ago. Three years ago I was a weapon, indoctrinated to purge the heretic, the witch and the xenos on sight, so that killing came as naturally to me as breathing. Before I arrived here I was a captain who commanded a company of super soldiers like myself."

The large man stared intently at Crosby.

"Can you imagine it, Sergeant Crosby? Can you imagine one hundred warriors like myself, clad in the finest power armor, armed with weapons that would tear mere mortal men apart?"

The thought of one hundred warriors like Garro unleashed on a world made Crosby sick to his stomach. If one man unarmed could cause that much carnage he shuddered to think what a hundred fully armored and armed would do. Garro continued.

"My Legion was one that prided itself in resilience and dogged combat doctrine. Had the 7th Company followed me here, then this world would have been set ablaze by sunset. Even your advanced weapons could not have stopped us."

Garro saw the look in Crosby's eyes and looked away.

"As it was, three years ago I would have killed every heretic, witch and xenos I met, were it not for one man."

He looked down at the scarlet cape.

"That man, Cardinal Richard Halstaff, was a holy man, and a good man. He taught me of achieving inner peace through prayer and contemplation, that intellectual debates could take the place of conquest and violence. That one could redeem errant souls through good deeds rather than the edge of a blade or a bullet from a bolter."

Garro looked back up at Crosby, and the sergeant saw hurt in those grey eyes.

"For three long years I fought against my inner nature, for three years I did not take a life, even in self-defense. And Cardinal Halstaff was there every step of the way, always patient, always had a kind word to counter my harsh rebuttals."

He lowered his eyes.

"Then he was gone, and with it went all his hard work."

Garro glanced down at his large hands, now clean.

"After all those years of deluding myself into thinking that I had somehow tamed the beast, at the slightest provocation it came out on a roaring rampage of vengeance."

He looked back up at Crosby.

"I know now that it was folly to follow that path. It was a cruel mercy, in sparing me to come to this heretical place."

He reached down and pulled on his cassock.

"My burden to you ends here, I will take an airship back to Romalia, and report to His Holiness what I have discovered about the Reconquista. Albion will not attack Tristain, for fear of censure from Pope Vittorio, nonetheless I would advise you against any action that Albion could interpret as an act of war."

He finished buttoning up his cassock and threw his cape over his shoulders.

"I will pray for your companion, Sergeant Crosby, and pray that your fellow soldier stands by the Emperor's side."

He placed a massive hand on Crosby's shoulder.

"And know that I share in your grief."

Suddenly, Garro's eyes hardened as he looked past Crosby.

"You!"

The larger man pushed the sergeant aside and snarled.

"What are you doing here, witch?"

Crosby spun around, only to see Tinúviel, the Weaver of Fate, standing there. She seemed amused at Garro's aggression.

**_"_****_I do whatever I wish, Nathaniel."_**

She turned her head slightly towards Crosby.

**_"_****_And right now I wish to speak with you, Robert Crosby."_**

She looked over to Garro, still glaring and fuming at her.

**_"_****_What I must speak of are for his ears alone."_**

Garro's eyes widened, and he turned to Crosby.

"You have past dealings with her?"

Crosby nodded, and the large man continued.

"And you willingly consort with this xenos witch?"

The sergeant didn't know how to respond to that, but the Weaver just giggled.

**_"_****_That is highly personal question, Nathaniel."_**

Garro glared at her.

"Do not speak to me in such familiar terms, xeno!"

If the lady was offended at Garro's remarks she didn't show it, instead she seemed amused. She turned and smiled at Crosby.

**_"_****_I do not care for the company you keep, Robert Crosby." _**

The large man retorted.

"And I do not care for the company you keep, sergeant. What is your relation to this xenos witch?"

Tinúviel ignored Garro's barb and strode up to Crosby. Her purple raiment fluttered in the breeze as she walked, when she was standing in front of the sergeant she caressed his cheek. Some of her green hair swished over Crosby's armor. She turned back to face Garro.

**_"_****_I am guiding Robert Crosby on his path that will lead to his redemption."_**

She lowered her hand from Crosby's face, and he thought he saw her eyes harden.

**_"_****_And you were mistaken if you thought that was a request, Nathaniel."_**

She raised her other hand, poised to snap her fingers.

**_"_****_Or need I remind you of just how much power I have over your new life here?"_**

The cardinal called Nathaniel Garro made a dismissive gesture.

"I do not need to witness your foul magika again, witch."

He looked over to Crosby.

"In the interest of cooperation, I will take my leave of you, sergeant. Although if you have fallen for the charms of this witch then I will be disappointed in you, I expected a soldier to be made of sterner stuff."

Garro turned to leave.

"Regardless, I bid you farewell, Sergeant Crosby. May you have safe travels and the next time we meet be under better circumstances."

With that Garro turned and left, leaving the Tinúviel and Crosby alone. The sergeant finally spoke up.

"Mind telling me what all that was about?"

The green haired lady looked at the retreating figure and sadly shook her head.

**_"_****_Nathaniel Garro is a tragic soul, more so even than your Martin Walker. Garro comes from the same world as you, but from your world in a far, far future where Humanity has become nothing more than a ravenous beast, driven insane from millennia of constant bloodshed and warfare."_**

She turned back to face Crosby.

**_"_****_But I did not come here to speak of him. There is something I have to tell you, something that I did not have the time to tell you back in the cell. Something is coming, a crucible that will test you and your companions to your very limits."  
><em>**

Crosby let go of one her hands and snorted.

"Really? What is it this time, another war?"

She shook her head again.

**_"_****_No, the war was but a test of your physical limits, this will be a test of your very soul. In this crucible you will forced to confront your demons, and if you fail, then you will be damned forever."  
><em>**

She took one of his hands in hers.

**_"_****_But fear not, I have absolute faith that you will pass the test, and gain absolution. And I will be there with you, to keep you safe lest the Evil One attempt to make you go astray."_**

Crosby nodded, and he felt her squeeze his hand.

"When will this all go down? Soon?"

She smiled.

**_"_****_Soon is a relative term for one who exists outside of time, but you needn't worry. First there must come an event, one that will act as the trigger for the crucible. When that even comes to pass then you will know that the time for your test is at hand."_**

Tinúviel reached up, holding her palm to his cheek. Crosby once again remarked how soft her skin felt as she spoke again.

**_"_****_Fear not, Robert Crosby, for after you have passed that test and gained absolution then your quest will be drawing to an end, and you will be very close to becoming the hero."_**

She reached up and kissed his forehead.

**_"_****_Now go to sleep, and remember only the pleasant things."_**

Crosby started to speak, but her figure shimmied, as did his surroundings. Then he heard a voice.

"Sergeant! Are you alright?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant opened his eyes, and saw McPherson standing over him, shaking his shoulder.

"What happened?"

The lieutenant shook his head.

"I don't know, Saito came down to check on you and Cardinal Garro, and when he got here all he saw was you lying on the ground out like a light."  
>Crosby quickly glanced over to where Garro had washed himself.<p>

"Cardinal Garro decided to hoof it over to the airship port. He assured me that Albion won't try anything, on the grounds that they don't want to incur the wrath of Romalia."

He glanced over his shoulder.

"We probably should book it, though."

_(AN: So there you have it, for anyone who didn't know Cardinal Garro is a Space Marine, specifically a loyalist from the Horus Heresy era. And being a proper Space Marine, he's going to think the Weaver of Fate is a xenos witch and react accordingly. There will be a back story explaining how he got to Helkeginia, but I figured I would let some of his xenophobia and bitterness bleed through in this chapter, for those who thought I was flanderizing him in earlier chapters. I may even have the Weaver take Crosby to the grimdark future of the 41__st__ millennium just so he can see how terrible it is, also seeing how the Imperials and the Eldar react to the two of them would be priceless…_

_So what is this crucible that Crosby and co will have to face? It has to be something terrible, since the Weaver was so adamant about interceding on their behalf to the Storyteller asking Him to spare them. As for what it is, you will find out! Next chapter will shift over to Bowles and his long road to recovery.)_


	96. A Broken Bird

_(AN: This chapter was hard to write, but the fact that I posted it today is no coincidence. Today is Armistice Day in my home country, and Veteran's Day to Americans. _

_Like Veteran's Day in America, Armistice Day honors the fighting men and women of our armed forces, but it also commemorates the end of the First World War. Armistice Day officially is commemorated on the 'eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month' as that was the time that hostilities ceased. It is traditionally honored by parades, wreathes and toasts to the fallen, and two minutes of silence._

_Regardless of what side of the Atlantic you hail from today is an important day. In today's cynical climate, with all the political and social food fights we witness on the television or the internet it's very easy to forget that. So I would ask of you, dear readers, a simple request. On this day be sure to thank a veteran. Regardless of what your belief system or political persuasion is, we should all be thankful and grateful to those who serve in the military, because their service ensures that we have the rights that we enjoy. _

_And with that PSA out of the way, on with the story!)_

Bowles' booted foot slipped on a rough floorboard and fell. The pile of dirty dishes and tankard balanced precariously on his tray crashed to the ground at the same time he did. As the lieutenant lay there, he sourly remembered taking falls when he had two legs, and how things completely changed when one has a single leg and a prosthetic.

Falling is never the same after you lose a leg, he thought to himself, there is no breakfall; you just yell 'Timber!' and do your best impression of a Redwood Tree falling. He looked down at his boot, which encased an articulated wooden foot, which was attached to a wooden leg that strapped to stump slightly below his knee. He looked up and saw Jessica by one of the tables she was waiting, and noticed that she was trying very hard not to look his way.

He remembered the look on Jessica's face when she had tried to muster up enough courage to tell him. It was a day after he woke up and she had brought him some bread and broth and a frothy tankard of ale. He noticed that she was fidgeting with her apron. The lieutenant gave the barmaid a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, sweetie. I know."

Her aquamarine eyes widened.

"What?"

Bowles shrugged.

"I know, I'm a leg short. That my survival cost me an arm and a leg, or at least a leg."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"B-but how?"

Bowles shrugged and pointed down to his feet, or foot.

"For one thing, I'm short a foot. For another I knew I lost the leg the moment I woke up."

He pulled the sheet back and glanced at his stump.

"I guess I should be lucky I still have a knee. That should make walking easier."

He looked back up to Jessica, whose eyes were shimmering with tears. Quickly she rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Timothy! I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner! I-I just didn't know what to say!"

Bowles didn't mind, partly because the side of his face was pressed against Jessica's considerable cleavage, so he just rested his head against her soft skin and gave her a reassuring pat.

"Not to worry, Jessica. Being alive is all that's important."

When she released him the lieutenant gave her his trademarked grin.

"Besides, I always wanted to be a peg-legged pirate. All I need is an eye-patch and a talking parrot."

Bowles remembered Jessica giggling at his quip. Inside, it was much different. He felt broken, like half a man. What rankled him the worst was the fact that he was a burden on his girlfriend and her father's business. As a soldier who had the virtue of self-sufficiency as interchangeable with self-respect drilled into him in boot camp and later OTS, the feeling of being the load was more painful than hobbling around on an over-glorified walking stick.

His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of giggling, he saw Jeanne, the chestnut-haired barmaid kneeling beside him and picking up his tray and broken dishes. As she cleaned up the girl leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

"Don't worry, Mr. Bowles, I'll help!"

Her infectious giggling brought a smile to the lieutenant's face, and then he heard the falsetto laughter of Scarron, wagging a finger at a bar patron.

"Ah-ah! Sir Monty, you have had too much to drink!"

The drag queen playfully poked the belly of the fat Gallian noble.

"If more of your wine ends up on the floor instead of your belly, then you should switch to water, so my help doesn't slip on your mess!"

The owner of the Charming Fairies grinned at the embarrassment of the obnoxious noble, and saw the young man struggle to his feet. He glanced over to his daughter Jessica, who looked as though she was about to leave her table and rush to Bowles' side. He made eye contact with her and gave a discrete shake of his head. Before the lieutenant started his shift Scarron had warned Jessica against trying to help him up if he fell. The young man's pride would already be wounded enough.

Satisfied that he had scolded the fat noble and distracted the rest of the patrons, the drag queen then sashayed over to the lieutenant, who had pulled himself upright and was clutching onto the bar for dear life.

"Come and have some ale, young man, you've earned it!"

Bowles opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and limped to the back room where the ale casks were. As soon as he was out of sight the lieutenant collapsed onto a chair, and he placed his head in his hands. He heard the door open.

"You really shouldn't push yourself so hard, Timothy."

He looked up and saw Scarron there. It was odd, hearing Jessica's father speak in a normal voice while still wearing pancake makeup and outfit that was part of his 'Mademoiselle' persona. The older man took a tankard off a peg on the wall and filled it from one of the casks.

"Mr. Bûcheron told you that it would take several weeks for you to get used to the leg he fashioned for you."

He handed the tankard to Bowles, who took a long draught from it.

"And the doctor told you to only walk on that leg a few hours a day at most, and here you are on your third day and you're trying to work a full eight hour shift."

The lieutenant drained the tankard and wiped his mouth off his sleeve. As he did Bowles looked down at his legs, one of his ACU trouser legs was bulging with his natural leg, the other wagging like an empty sack.

"I-I'm grateful for the save, Scarron. But I hate feeling so useless, so helpless."

He looked back up at Jessica's father.

"What else can I do? I'm not going to just sit around and do nothing, my buddies need me, and a one-legged crippled chopper pilot is no use to them."

Scarron placed a reassuring hand on Bowles's shoulder.

"You can continue trying, but there is a difference between pushing yourself and punishing yourself. Because you don't just end up hurting yourself, you also hurt those your loved ones."

The lieutenant watched as Scarron took a smaller second mug and filled it with some spiced wine from another cask. The older man took a sip and made a face.

"I know you're putting on a brave face for my Jessica, but you should open up to her. Tamping down on your emotions and burying them might work now, but it is those poisonous thoughts have to be lanced."

Bowles looked down at his wooden leg again.

"How the hell can I? How can I explain what the war did to me?"

The soldier noticed a haunted look in the drag queen's eyes, then Scarron drained his drink to its dregs. When he finished he stared into the empty mug.

"War changes people, young man. It leaves many dead bodies in its wake, and leaves its scars on the survivors. In that experience we have both shared in its foul bounty."

The tavern owner took the empty tankard from Bowles's hand and hung it back up on the peg.

"All I ask is that you take it one step at a time. And if you feel like talking, to me or to my Jessica, just ask."

Bowles paused for a moment and then nodded.

"Alright."

Scarron continued.

"Take thirty minutes to rest, and then you can go back to work. But promise me that you will stop whenever the pain gets to be too much."

Before he turned to go, he grinned and spoke again in his falsetto 'Mademoiselle' persona.

"And don't be shy about asking the pretty girls for help, young man, because otherwise I'll run out dishes, Hee-Hee!"

And with that Scarron sashayed out, causing the lieutenant to chuckle, in spite of his situation. Bowles grabbed ahold of the top of the cask next to his chair and awkwardly pulled himself up. As he opened the door he heard Marlène singing karaoke to a Lady Gaga song about a bad romance and smiled. The smile left him when Bowles saw a young couple dancing vigorously to the beat on the tavern's improvised dance floor. He shook his head, wondering if he would ever dance again.

_(AN: This was a relatively short chapter, but relevant as it will start the long road to Lt. Bowles's recover. Hopefully I did justice to it.)_


	97. Waste Not

_(AN: Ok, okay, I agree that this story has enough side-plots and crossovers to where I think we can leave them behind and focus on the main story. No point in pulling a 'Song of Fire and Ice' and torturing the readers with a baker's dozen number of side plots and jumping back and forth between them. So, this next arc will deal with the aftermath of the war, and the aftermath of the events from the rescue mission. There will be some more silliness up ahead, but also some more angsty chapters as well. And, at the end of this arc a very special guest star from Spec Ops: The Line will make an appearance, and all I can say is, it won't be pretty. And, I promise, no more interludes chapters! __On another note, and it has been a while but we need some more handwaving so without further ado:_

_Captain Handwaver comes on stage with a large bandage on his backside._

_"__We interrupt this rapidly updating and grammatically poor crackfic to do another round of handwaving. This particular handwave is to speed up the recovery times of Leftenant Gordon as his erstwhile life-threatening injuries shall be healed by the time the protagonist and his entourage arrive back at the palace. It shall be done because his magical elf girlfriend with the enormous gag boobies made it so."_

_Someone hands Captain Handwaver a new cue card and he briefly scans over it._

_"__Ah, scratch that last one, it is not Leftenant Gordon's magical elf girlfriend with the enormous gag boobies that magically healed him, since of course she was part of the mission, but rather her more magically inclined brother who did the magical healing that allows Leftenant Gordon to be magically healed in time for the next magical adventures."_

_He gives a small Queen Mum style handwave, and then pulls up another cue card._

_"__This particular handwave is the address the discrepancy of time between Leftenant Bowles' near death experience and his recovery as he learns to walk on his wooden leg."_

_Captain Handwaver gives another small handwave, and as he does the scruffy private with the Tommy helmet shuffles on stage._

_"__That reminds me of a joke, sir. Would you like to hear it?"_

_Captain Handwaver looks irritatedly at the private._

_"__Balrick, I would rather be force fed the fishy contents of your inedible apple crumble for a year than listen to your pathetic attempt at telling a joke."_

_The scruffy private adjusts his dirty glasses and continues as if he heard nothing._

_"__Once I ran across a man with a wooden leg named Smith, and I asked him wot was the name of his other leg?"  
><em>

_Captain Handwaver gives an aside glance to the audience._

_"__And this is why I have no faith in humanity's future. That and all these ridiculous stories on the internet."_

_The private continues._

_"__But there is just one problem, sir. I don't get the joke. Wot was the name of the chap's other leg?"_

_The officer gives the private a patronizing stare._

_"__Private, given that the silly juvenile joke requires you to understand the concept of puns and plays on words, what do you think?"_

_"__I try not to think, sir. It gives me headaches."_

_"__Baldrick, in the highly unlikely event of a zombie apocalypse, and the aforementioned ravenous undead will be chasing us, I'll have you know that I will be tripping you so that you will fall. Do you know why?_

_The private shakes his head._

_"__The reason why I'm going to trip you, Baldrick, is because when you fall, the aforementioned undead will catch you, and the amount of time the poor sods will spend cracking open your cranium and searching for brains will buy sufficient time to for me to flee."_

_The private nods._

_"__Oh, alright. Would you like to hear another joke, sir?"_

_"__I would, in lieu of you telling another joke, rather have the tender parts in between my toes slit with paper cuts whilst simultaneously bathing in lemon juice whilst simultaneously reading the idiotic crackfics that permeate this website and…"_

_*a voice booms from above*  
><em>

**That can be arranged, Captain Handwaver.**

_The officer continues without skipping a beat._

_"__Right then, so there you have your handwaves, and now we continue with our regularly scheduled crackfic."_

_*ahem*_

_Right, so on with the show!)_

"Mother! Éléonore! Louise! Look! The Outworlder's airship approaches!"

Cattleya came running across the lawn to the small rose garden where the two Vallière sisters and their mother were taking their afternoon tea. The middle daughter came to an abrupt halt, flushed and out of breathe, pointing to the north.

"Look! Here they come!"

The Duchess immediately stood up and gently pulled Cattleya aside.

"Come dear! You know you shouldn't be running about like that! You'll collapse of exhaustion, please sit down."

She guided her daughter to one of the chairs and signaled the butler to approach.

"Fetch a glass of iced lemon squash for the young mistress, and set two more places for tea."

The butler bowed low and left. Duchess Karin de La Vallière heard the distinctive buzzing and chopping noise that was the airship's means of propulsion as it maneuvered around the side of their mansion. It flew off to the side by the stables, and slowly descended to the ground. As the blades slowed down and the noise died down the Duchess could make out a lone figure walking towards them at a brisk pace. As the individual approached she could make out the distinctive black and white armor which mean it was her youngest daughter's bodyguard, Sir Crosby. When he was close enough the oddly dressed soldier stood stiffly at attention.

"Duchess Vallière."

He glanced over to the three daughters. The eldest daughter Éléonore pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and nodded lightly in acknowledgement. The middle daughter Cattleya was staring at him with undisguised admiration, probably still hadn't gotten over him rescuing her from the thief Fouquet.

The youngest, Louise was giving him a death glare that could peel paint, her right eye was twitching as she fumed, but said nothing. The Duchess smiled and nodded.

"Please call me Karin, Sir Crosby. You are among family, there is no need for formalities."

She gestured to a chair closest to her.

"Please have a seat. You must tell us all about what has happened since your last visit, and I insist you stay for dinner."

The bodyguard nodded, but paused.

"Ah, Karin, I should point out that I have company with me."

He glanced over to Louise, who was still glaring at him.

"I have Louise's familiar with me, as well as Lt. McPherson, whom you remember from our last visit."

The Duchess shrugged.

"It will be no bother, have your soldier go to the kitchen and my cook will see that they have room and refreshment."

The soldier hesitated.

"There's…also a commoner girl as well, one Tiffania."

He saw Louise's eyes narrow at the mention of the busty elf girl, but the Duchess made a dismissive gesture.

"It does not matter to me, if she is a charge of yours and you will vouch for her then she is welcome as well."

Crosby nodded, and turned off to the side, speaking into a small box. Based off what her youngest daughter had said, it was called a raydeoh, and it allowed the Outworlders to communicate from long distances. When the conversation was concluded the bodyguard turned and accepted the seat she offered him.

* * *

><p>"Roger that."<p>

McPherson switched off his radio and turned to Saito, who was powering down the Black Hawk.

"Apparently the Lady of the house wants us to spend the night, but Crosby's made arrangements for us. Same drill as last time, we're to report to the chef."

Saito pulled off his headset.

"That's fine by me. I'm really not in a hurry to meet up with Louise."

He glanced over to Tiffania, who was sitting close to the lieutenant.

"Let's go."

As they walked across the expansive lawn with manicured shrubbery and fountains, McPherson noticed a small garden with a table and chairs set up. It was there that Sgt. Crosby was seated, apparently having an in-depth conversation with the other four occupants. The lieutenant recognized the lady of the house from the last time, as well as the blonde-haired older daughter who had picked Louise up before their mission. Speaking of the walking IED, he saw that the pinkette had stood up and shouted something, only to have her cheek pinched by the blonde girl. He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"C'mon, Specialist, let's grab some chow."

* * *

><p>Later that evening he was sitting on a railing by the servant's quarters, only to see a door open and the older soldier walked outside. The Zulu Squad sergeant was out of his armor and wearing just his black utes and his thigh holster.<p>

"Kinda taking a chance without your armor, aren't ya sarge?"

Crosby grinned.

"I'll take that chance. When we fashioned the Zulu Squad kit back in Dubai clearly we didn't mean to sit down at a fancy table and eat a nine course meal."

"Speaking of which, how was dinner?"

Crosby shrugged.

"It was the usual clusterfuck. The Duchess I think has a thing for me because she was making the most attempts at small talk, only to be interrupted whenever Louise made an outburst or took a jab at her older sister."

He leaned against the rail, only to see the lieutenant looking at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well, what, sir?"

McPherson chuckled.

"You know what I mean, didn't you take what was offered?"

The sergeant grinned and shook his head.

"Honestly, sir, just because everybody else is jumping into that pond doesn't mean I have to."

He looked up at the dark sky.

"Besides, word has it that some heavy shit's coming down the pipeline, so anything like that would be a distraction."

Their conversation was interrupted by the door opening, Crosby waved the Tokyo teen over.

"So, Specialist, is the walking IED behaving herself?"

Saito nodded once.

"Yeah, she's okay. She told me that we have to take her back to the Academy, apparently classes have resumed since the war's over."

McPherson grinned.

"Yay, now we get to put up with more shenanigans at school."

He glanced over at Crosby.

"Although it will be a novelty to see it as a human and not as a sword."

The sergeant shared a laugh, but noticed that Saito was pensive instead of laughing.

"What's up, Saito?"

The teen looked up at Crosby.

"It's just…Louise seemed…off tonight. She was moody and temperamental."

He saw the look on both the soldier's faces.

"I mean, more moody and temperamental than usual. I think she's still trying to process all the shit that went down in that battle."

McPherson spoke up.

"Well, if she needs someone to talk to let me know. All of us have had bad experiences in Dubai, and we've all had our different ways of dealing with it."

Saito opened his mouth to speak, but then there was a loud splash. It sounded like it came from one of the fountains on the estate. Crosby drew his Desert Eagle and McPherson drew his sidearm, both soldiers silently stalked over to where the noise came from.

Signaling McPherson to cover him, Crosby come out from behind cover and trained his handgun on a large fountain.

"Whoever you are, you're covered, so come out of there!"

He was rewarded by the surface of the water breaking, and the sound of a frightened squeak. Tiffania's blonde head popped out of the water, her blue eyes wide with fear.

"W-what's happening? Did I do something wrong?"

Crosby sighed and lowered his gun.

"Tiffania? What on Helkeginia are you doing in there?"

She rose out of the water, where both soldiers turned their eyes, as she was stark naked.

"I-I was just taking a bath, I couldn't find the washing facilities in the mansion, then I got lost and came out here."

She looked down at the fountain.

"The water is nice and clean in here, although a bit cold."

The sergeant glanced over to McPherson and quickly stripped off his black utility shirt. With his eyes still averted he shoved it in the general direction of the elf girl.

"Will you please get out of there and put this on?"

Crosby heard the sound splashing water, and heard the light padding sound of bare footsteps approach. He turned around to see Tiffania pulling the shirt around her like a dress.

"I don't understand what the problem is, Mr. Crosby. Is it a human thing?"

The sergeant was about to say something about the propriety of bathing naked in a fountain when Saito came around from the blind side of the hedge shrubs.

"Hey, Crosby-san! What was that, another burglar and-"

Unfortunately the teen slipped on the wet ground and started to fall. He grabbed for the nearest thing to arrest his fall, which happened to be the elf girl, and both fell to the ground in a heap. Crosby shook his head, chuckling at the sight.

"Specialist, you'd better get up and off that girl before your walking IED girlfriend finds you like that."

McPherson laughed, but all three men froze at the sound of the new voice, which was high-pitched and demanding.

"Before I find him doing what?"

Neither Crosby nor McPherson had a chance to say anything, as the pinkette's gaze fell on Saito, still lying on top of a naked Tiffania. Crosby facepalmed as a vein popped in Louise's forehead and her eye began to twitch.

"Sssssaitoooo! You perverted DOG!"

* * *

><p>The Duchess De la Vallière was jolted awake by the sound of a loud explosion. Quickly she rang the bell for her butler, fearing the worst. When he appeared by her bedside, bowing low, she demanded to know what happened.<p>

"I fear, Madam, that your youngest daughter has lost her temper again."

Karin lowered her head and sighed.

"Alright, what is it this time?"

The large ornate fountain by the rose hedge, Madam."

She shook her head.

"I just had those statues replaced, too."

Both duchess and butler winced as another loud explosion shook the house, followed by the sound of broken glass tinkling.

"Oh dear, not the-"

The butler nodded gravely.

"Yes, Madam. I fear that was the greenhouse."

_(AN: So, I figured I'd leave it on a high note, especially with all the angst going on. Someone remarked that Louise might have trouble coping and compartmentalizing what happened in the battle, so this was a bit of foreshadowing of things to come. This being a FOZ crossover, the denouement will have a bit of a twist to it. Next chapter will take us back to the Academy, where there will be new faces and old faces.)_


	98. How To Train Your Dragon

_(AN: I meant to post this right after the battle, but got carried away. It works out, since this takes place after Cromwell's rather gory dispatching. Hope you enjoy!)_

The darkened cavern where the Reconquista held it secret conclave was silent. The masked individuals were abnormally quiet, and not just because their numbers were fewer. All of them, including the thief, stared at the glowing firestone crystal in a mixture of fear and anticipation. They knew their master was not patient or forgiving when it came to failure. Finally the stone glowed brighter, and the silky rasping voice echoed throughout the chamber.

**"****Sssso. I see that the foolish little man hassss ressseived his reward. Sssssuch is the price one payssss for not ssssseing what is right in front him."**

The leader removed her mask and stepped forward.

"L-lord Alduin, I-"

Before Sheffield could try to plead her case, she heard a terrified scream. One of the other cloaked and masked Reconquista members fell to the ground, clawing his face. As he tore his mask of, everyone in the cavern let out a collective gasp. The wretched man's skin was melting off, then without warning he burst into flames. For several horribly minutes the man thrashed about screaming, until his tongue dissolved. Finally the body stopped convulsing, and Sheffield turned back to the crystal to hear rumbling. It took her a minute to realize the creature was chuckling.

**"****You have failed me again, Liar. I gave you the meansss with which to defeat the Outworlderssss, and you ssssquandered them. I gave you my First, and he wasssss defeated. I thought I made mysssself clear at our lassssst conclave."**

Sheffield took a step forward.

"Please, Lord Alduin, we need-"

The air around them whipped up with the force of a cyclone, and the sound of a deafening roar.

**"****YOU DARE TO ASK FOR MORE?! I have kept my end of the bargain, Liar! Now you mussssst keep your end!"**

The robed figure next to Sheffield removed her mask, and Fouquet stepped forward.

"M-my Lord, the Outworlders escaped from us."

To her surprise, the voice sounded calmer.

**"****Yesssss. I know, thief."**

The voice increased in volume.

**"My patienssss is coming to an end, now you mussssst do my bidding, lest my anger be arousssssed again. ****Now go, pathetic wormsss!"**

As Fouquet turned to leave, the voice spoke again, but softer.

**"****Thief, wait."**

She turned back and the crystal glowed again.

**"****Your resolve is weakening, Thief. I can feel your anger ssssslipping like sssssand through my claws."**

It was a statement rather than a question. She lowered her eyes to look at her bandaged hand and the stump on her arm where her other hand was.

"I cannot lie, my Lord. With the losses we sustained, and the Outworlder escaped, I don't think our cause will last."

**"****You must not forget who inflicted those injuriesssss on you, thief. Do not let go of your anger, but nurture it, sssssstoke those smoldering embersssss until it becomes an inferno. Only your hate can help you now, your hatred of thissss Outworlder will help you defeat him."**

The memory of Sgt. Crosby breaking her hands and then taking her one hand off with his weapon came rushing back, and the effect was immediate. She looked back up, and anger burned in her eyes.

"But what of your release, my Lord? If we cannot get an Outworlder, how will you be unleashed?"

There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again, this time more measured.

**"****There might be…another way, thief. Treachery, the blackest form of betrayal, these thingsssss tie back into my mossssst powerful weapon, Anger. Ssssssuch an act might be enough to releasssssse me."**

The thief nodded.

**"****Now go, there are thingssss I musssst attend to."**

* * *

><p>The sun was shining on the pristine white beaches, and the sound of sparkling waves crashing on the shore was punctuated by the sound of seagulls crying. Such was the realm of Ǣsbiǫrn the Storyteller. One inhabitant did not share in the merriment.<p>

Captain Pelayo was giving the man in sitting on the shore her best death glare, under normal circumstances it was enough to cause most men, Marine or otherwise, to quail. The jaunty fellow wearing the sky blue polo shirt, shorts and golf cleats seemed unaffected. Then again, the reason he seemed unaffected might have had to more to do with the outfit she was wearing. The Storyteller shrugged.

"I don't know, I think you look very pretty in that outfit. Although I would have gone with a more muted pink, myself."

The female Marine continued to glare at him.

"Listen, buster! I don't give two shits on a Short Bus if you're the God of this world or not, this isn't funny!"

She gestured down to her revealing clothes.

"You said I could help out in that world, since when does that mean putting me in a stripper outfit and becoming Captain Fanservice?"

The strange man set down his putter and chuckled.

"Hey, like I said, I can't always predict how the Tapestry will unfold, sweetie. I have the big picture view, but some of the details are a bit hazy."

Pelayo shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Can you at least retrieve my gear? We couldn't find it anywhere."

The Storyteller nodded.

"Well, the reason you couldn't find it is that your uniform, more specifically your weapons caught the attention of the Big Bad."

When he saw the blank look on her face he continued.

"That would be tall sinister advisor to the sultan. The one who hypnotized you and gave you the wardrobe makeover."

"What?! You mean that bastard has my stuff?!"

The Storyteller held up a forestalling hand.

"Easy does it, sweetie. Mr. Evil Vizir is not going to unlock the secret of gunpowder or anything."

She gave him a sarcastic look.

"Really, and how do you know that?"

The Storyteller raised one of his hands.

"Well, for one thing, this reason."

He snapped his fingers, and in an instant the harem outfit disappeared, being replaced by Pelayo's flightsuit, vest and shoulder holster. She looked down and saw her crash helmet was strapped to her belt and her MP5 was in a sling. She looked back up.

"But how did you..."

The man grinned at her.

"I told you before, magic."

The Marine stared at her MP5, then she looked back up.

"Hey, you mean you could have done that all along?"

He nodded.

"Yup. That's the benefit of being Chairman of the Board, so to speak."

Her eyes narrowed.

"And why didn't you just do that to start with?"

He shrugged again.

"What can I say, I was admiring the eye candy."

The Marine blushed slightly at his comment, and opened her mouth to retort, when she heard a deafening roar. A large shadow blotted out the sun, and when Pelayo looked up she was shocked.

"What is that?!"

She heard the Storyteller speak.

"An uninvited guest."

She raised her MP5.

"What the fuck?! A dragon? What the fuck is a dragon doing here?"

To her surprise, a hand placed itself on the barrel of her submachine gun, causing her to lower her weapon. She looked over and saw the strange man was frowning.

"Go inside the shack, and wait there. Whatever you do, do not come outside."

He turned to her.

"Now!"

After glancing back up at the sinister black dragon, the Marine shook her head and took off running for the small cottage nearby. Country Ollman watched as she climbed the steps and shut the door. He then turned back to see the dragon had landed on the shore. It opened its mouth and began to speak.

**"You killed my First! You had no right to meddle with my planssss!"**

Country shrugged.

"Hey, like I was explaining to my invited guest, I don't see all the angles and twists and turns off the bat. This Tapestry sometimes takes on a mind of its own."  
>The dragon barked out a scoffing sound.<p>

**"Pah! Your lies do not interest me, human. I want to know why!"**

To its surprise, the man took a step forward, glaring at it.

"Listen, bub. Let's get the dirty laundry out in the open and aired out. You are here in this Tapestry because I allowed it. Your little machinations and misdeeds were done so because they were all part of my plan. Everything you do is because I permit it, not the other way around."

A smirk formed on Country Ollman's face.

"Or would you rather be back in your previous situation, before I found you?"

Without warning he snapped his fingers again, and the beach disappeared. Alduin was blinded by a bright light, and when its vision returned, it found itself encased in a glass box. The creature was perched on an oversized twig, and suddenly there was a cacophonous blast of noise that assaulted its senses. A massive hand pressed its sweaty palm against one wall of Alduin's prison.

The boy turned glanced over his shoulder to the goth girl lazily texting on her bed.

"Hey babe, this black iguana is sick! Where did you get him?"

The girl blew a bubble from her gum and shrugged.

"At the pet store. Owner said it from some foreign country called Skyrim. I'm thinking its somewhere in the Pacific."

The dragon raised its head and roared in anger, only to find itself back on the beach. Although its size had not changed, Alduin was now sitting in the palm of Country's hand. The creature heard the man speak.

"If you're not satisfied with your new gig, I can always return you back to the other place where the Dragonborn banished you."

The small dragon shuddered and spoke in a much more muted voice.

**"N-no thank you."**

Country nodded, and snapped his fingers again. Aduin was now back to his original size, and the man continued to speak.

"The arrangement was that I would free you from your prison, and that I would allow you one corrupt soul from a particular Tapestry as long as you stuck with the plan I laid out for you."

He wagged his finger at Alduin.

"And don't think that I didn't see you try and corrupt those other two, very greedy of you."

The Storyteller bent down and picked up his putter.

"Since your so-called First wasn't very competent, I don't see why I should give you another. Now, go back and be a good, -er, bad boy, stick with the program, and stop trying to corrupt new souls. You broke your toy, now you can't have another one."

Aldiun spoke again.

**"But our bargain-"**

Country glared at the dragon.

"I've changed our bargain, again. Like I said, it's one of the few perks of being Chairman of the Board. I hope for your own sake you don't give me another reason to change it again. Pray I don't alter it further."

He paused, chuckling.

"See that? I can do those sorts of references, too."

He saw the blank look the dragon was giving him and shrugged.

"Your loss, mac. Alright, off you get, I've got college co-eds coming by and the last thing I want is for them to get scared off by a giant oversized iguana. Scram."

The Storyteller snapped his fingers again, and the dragon vanished.

_(AN: So, now the Reconquista is feeling some serious buyer's remorse. And I'll admit it, I enjoy watching the Storyteller troll the Big Bad. Also, stuff at work has gone into overdrive, so the next chapter will have to wait until the weekend. Hope you enjoyed, until next time!)_


	99. Bad News in a Good Way

_(AN: I know, this is a short chapter, but rather it really clashed with the next chapter and the Duchess saying goodbye to her daughter was already done, so I decided on a time skip.)_

"She blew up a fountain? And a greenhouse? Seriously?"

Konrad looked up from his paperwork to stare incredulously at the sergeant standing at attention. Crosby thought it was an odd sight, watching his CO in dress uniform writing on parchment with a feather quill pen. He shrugged at the colonel.

"In fairness to the walking IED she found her boyfriend lying on top of a naked girl. A naked girl with a set of tits that would make a porn actress jealous."

They had arrived at the palace shortly before noon, Crosby had opting to fly the Black Hawk as Saito was still pretty singed and beat up from Louise's tantrum the night before. The pinkette had stormed off to gather her school things, McPherson took Saito to the medics to get checked up, Tiffania went to go check on Gordon's condition, and Crosby went to the 33rd's barracks to debrief Konrad on the mission.

"I find it odd that of all the things I've mentioned in this fucked up mission that Louise blew up a fountain to be the biggest shocker to you, sir."

The colonel looked down at the papers on his desk.

"Well, sergeant, I will say that I won't miss Oliver Cromwell, and it is a good thing that they're not going to attack us again. Although if what you say is true about Cardinal Garro we probably should make a trip to Romalia to find out more about him."

Crosby continued.

"Then there's the bit about Tebby."

The colonel nodded.

"I'd say it's farfetched but then again I've met the lady in question. I don't see any reason why she would lie."

The sergeant paused. Konrad looked at him pointedly.

"Was there anything else, sergeant?"

Crosby swallowed hard.

"T-there was something else, sir. The Lady Tinúviel, must have been attached to Tebby or something. After she told me that Tebby wasn't there she...she attacked two jailers that tried to apprehend me."

Konrad raised an eyebrow.

"Attacked? We are talking about the same lady, correct? Tall, graceful, green hair and matching eyes?"

The sergeant nodded.

"…And the purple toga dress, yes sir, same gal. Specifically she singled them out as the ones that tortured Tebby. She did some pretty harsh shit."

The colonel raised his other eyebrow.

"Care to elaborate, sergeant. The term 'harsh shit' covers a multitude of sins."

"She…she went full on Mother Nature berserk and summoned these vines, sentient vines, out of the walls, and strangled the jailers with them, sir."

For a full minute Konrad stood perfectly still, then spoke one word.

"Shit."

Crosby nodded again.

"That was my reaction, sir. Apparently, according to her, the Reconquista were going to use Tebby to release whatever brought the red dragon here. She took Tebby away to prevent that."

"What about Lt. Bowles, any sign of him?"

Crosby shook his head.

"No sign sir, at least according to the ones we interrogated they only retrieved Tebby, they claimed there was no sign of Bowles when they looted the `Bird."

The colonel nodded, and there was more silence as Konrad turned his attention back to writing paperwork.

"What now, sir?"

Konrad looked back up.

"Why, you complete your mission, sergeant."

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled.

"And what mission would that be sir?"

It was the colonel's turn to laugh.

"The same mission the Duchess charged you with; to escort your charge back to school like a good bodyguard, sergeant."

He picked up some papers and handed them to Crosby.

"Here, if you're headed to the infirmary I want you to give this to Lt. Gordon."

Crosby glanced down at them.

"What are they, sir?"

"New orders, sergeant. Apparently the elf girl wants to enroll at the Tristain Academy of Magic, so his new marching orders are to accompany you and Sgt. Lugo back to the school."

The colonel chuckled again.

"Besides, it would be inhumane to keep him from his child-bride."

Both the sergeant and the commanding officer shared a laugh, then Crosby saluted and left.

At the infirmary the sergeant was greeted by none other than Lt. Gordon himself, up and apparently ambulatory. After the lieutenant returned his salute Crosby handed him the paperwork.

"What are these, sarge?"

"Transfer papers, sir. The colonel decided that that you should accompany me and Sgt. Lugo to the Academy for an observe and report mission."

Gordon grinned.

"Mighty nice of the Old Man, I'm sure Tiff will be happy, too. I wasn't looking forward to telling her that she would have to go without me."

The lieutenant grinned as he saw the sergeant struggled to make his next query, finally he answered the question written on Crosby's face.

"Tiff's brother did a helluva job, don't ya think, sarge?"

Crosby nodded.

"Considering the last time I saw you, which was day before yesterday, you had a long road of recovery to go. What happened?"

The lieutenant shrugged.

"Tiff told her brother that she wanted to enroll in the Academy when she got back from the mission, so he worked up some of his top-shelf voodoo magic and got me right as rain in a day."

He looked down at his uniform.

"Although I still would throw the bullshit flag if I saw this in a movie or a book."

Crosby chuckled at the comment, but Gordon saw that the sergeant seemed somber.

"I heard about Tebby, I'm sorry, sarge."

The sergeant glanced down the ward, seeing Saito being treated for his wounds.

"The specialist told me, sarge. At least from what he said Tebby escaped a fate worse than death."

"Did he tell you how that giant Romalian noble squashed Cromwell's head like a grape?"

Gordon shook his head.

"No, that I heard from McPherson. Pretty fucked up, if you ask me. Not to say he didn't have it coming, it's just fucked up."

They paused in their conversation to see two other soldiers approach them. McPherson and the young sniper Alex Walker walked up to Crosby.

"Hi sarge! So, I heard the walking IED threw quite a tantrum last night."

Crosby chuckled.

"Yeah, it was quite epic. Of course she caught Saito on top of Tiff naked…"

The young private grinned at Gordon.

"I'm surprised you're taking that so well, El-Tee!"

Gordon glanced over to where Saito was being bandaged up and shrugged.

"Well, I figured if Louise did a number on him then there's not much I can do, other than maybe tap-dance on his broken body, and that seemed a bit harsh."

Crosby tried to think of a way to break the news gently to the private, but Gordon beat him to the punch.

"Alex already knows, sarge."

The sergeant looked shocked, the private just shrugged.

"It's like McPherson said, war is hell. At least from the sound of it Tebby dodged the worst of it."

Alex smiled, and for a brief moment Crosby was reminded of the other Walker. It wasn't a pleasant smile. The private continued.

"And I heard what that big Romalian guy did to Cromwell. Serves the fucker right, hope he rots in hell."

Then the private looked up and saw Agnès. Alex brightened up considerably.

"Oh, if you'll excuse me, here comes my lunch date!"

Crosby watched as the private saunter off after the blonde female knight, then he heard Gordon's speaking to McPherson.

"McPherson, I need you to keep an eye on Private Walker. Something about him is off. If he turns out like his older brother…"

Gordon's normally jovial face hardened, and McPherson nodded.

"I'll see to it, Gordon. I hope it won't come to that, because if the Reconquista try any shit we'll need every swinging dick on deck to counter it."

The lieutenant nodded to Gordon and followed after Alex and the blonde knight. Crosby heard a loud, squeaky voice and turned around, seeing the pinkette storming down the hallway. He turned and saw Gordon grinning at him.

"Well, time to get the kids packed up and off to school, right sarge?"

Crosby returned the lieutenant's grin.

"No time like the present, sir."

_(AN: So this chapter felt forced…and like I said it was really short. Basically it's just a filler chapter. I promise the next few chapters will be more interesting, as we get to see some new faces, new situations. And some more 'silly' as well, to balance out the angst. Should have it up by Monday, until then!)_


	100. Fresh Meat

_(AN: Well, I knew I was going to hit a wall sooner or later…I had predicted it, that trying to update with a chapter a day was going to end in disaster. The top reasons for said wall I had predicted would have been 'whisky-induced meltdown' or the like. The scenario of 'updates coming to a screeching halt because of a jammed index finger reducing you to peck typing' didn't even make the top 10. So I'm taking a couple of days off, and resting the digits. Cuz y'know, seriously, peck typing is infuriatingly slow.)_

It was dark, and Louise could not find her way. Her head felt heavy, and she felt like she was carrying a vast amount of weight on her back and shoulders. She looked down, and saw that she wasn't wearing her school uniform and noble's cloak, but the same mossy-colored clothes and armor that the Outworlders wore. The pinkette was also holding one of their repeating muskets, for some reason she knew it was called a M1014, a shotgun. Then, she heard a voice shout in her ear.

_"__Delta has made to the forward observing post, repeat, they're here!"_

She looked up, and saw herself in the square of some ruined city. The sun had almost set, and through the haze of sand the sky was an angry crimson, painting everything around her in a blood-red light. There were bodies, dead bodies wearing the same clothes as hers, hanging from tall gibbets. Sand covered everything, and the city was alien to her. In the distance she could see were crystal spires with all the glass shattered out of them, so they looked like skeletons of impossibly tall giants.

The square she was standing in was hedged in on all sides by a low stone wall, and was littered with the sharpened wire and sand-bagged barriers, just as in the battle with the Reconquista. Behind her was a tall outpost tower, and a tattered red and white striped banner flapped in the breeze. Just beyond the outpost there was a suspension bridge made of metal, and beyond that she could see a spire of glass and metal, so tall she couldn't even see the peak. Her stunned silence was interrupted when the same voice shouted in her ear again.

_"__Dammit Frenchy move your ass!"_

Without bidding she started to run, she ran past ruined wheeled carriages, made from the same metal as her familiar's airship, to another ruined building. At the entrance she stumbled to a stop, and saw some men dressed in the same clothes as her, waving her over. The same voice shouted in her ear, she must have a raydeo, the thing that the Outworlders used to communicate from long distances.

_"Fire-team One! You're up!" _

Two soldiers immediately ran through the door, and she heard the staccato bark that was their repeating guns firing. She heard screams of her fellow soldiers as they died. One of them shouted in agony.

_ "__We need some motherfucking covering fire now!"_

Her commander waved her and another soldier through the door.

_"Fire-Team Two, you're up! Don't let Delta reach the second checkpoint!__"_

As she entered the darkened building, her eyes adjusted and could see stairs that went down to another level. As they both slowly and carefully descended the stairs she saw the bodies of her fellow squad-mates, dead.

Suddenly she heard another shout, coming from outside.

"Pay attention to that shotgunner!"

Another voice outside shouted.

"Flash grenade! Cover your eyes!"

Instinctively she turned around and crouched, covering her eyes and ears. Then the whole room erupted in a brilliant flash of light, and a deafening explosion. Spots danced in her vision, and the air was full of chocking clouds of sand, but she could at least still see. Louise noticed her fellow squad made wasn't so lucky, he was in the open when the flash grenade hit. He blindly fired at nothing, and was immediately cut down by a hail of bullets. The pinkette took cover behind an ammunition crate, and fired from cover. One of the shots from her shotgun must have connected, she heard one of the voices curse.

"Fuck! Shotgunner still on the field!"

The other voice barked out a harsh order.

"I want him DEAD!"

The first voice sneered.

"Fine! I hear ya, stand by!"

Louise crouched behind cover, terrified to move, and trying not to panic as heavy gunfire erupted in and around the crate she was hiding behind. Then she heard another clatter, and saw a frag grenade on the ground. Without thinking she sprang from cover, and sprinted towards the relative safety of the stairwell. Then she heard the harsh voice snarl again.

"Sticky grenade, away!"

Something hit her in the back, and in a panic she tried to pull it off her, but her limbs wouldn't work. Her hands and arms felt frozen in place, her feet felt like she was walking through quicksand, and she couldn't even shout as no sound came out of her mouth. She felt a wrenching pain as the grenade detonated-

And she screamed, and sat up in bed, panting heavily.

"Is everything alright Louise?"

The pinkette took a deep breathe and looked off to her side. Her familiar, Saito, had sat up in bed with a concerned look on her face. For a moment she almost blurted it out, then shook her head.

"It was just a bad dream, nothing more. Go back to sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow."

She lay back and waited until she heard Saito snoring, then carefully she got out of bed and tiptoed over to her dresser and mirror. She was quite a state, her pink hair was disheveled and her nightgown was soaked in sweat. Louise shook her head, stripped off her nightgown and opened the drawers to put on a fresh one. After she pulled it over her head and arms, she sat down at her desk, and wept silently. Something has to give, she thought.

* * *

><p>The next morning all three soldiers finished their morning PT and trooped into the dining hall. Lugo excused himself, saying that Siesta was fixing some breakfast for him, so that left Crosby and Gordon to find their seats. Their search was interrupted when a student collided with the young lieutenant.<p>

"You stupid oaf! Why don't watch where you're…"

The girl paused in her rant as soon as she caught sight of Lt. Gordon. She was a first year student, with waist-length blonde blond hair that was arranged in two straight twin tails. To Crosby it just seemed like too much effort, although it was par for the course in this bizarre world of magic. The girl had large light blue eyes, eyes that were currently shimmering as they regarded the lieutenant.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I ran into you! May I ask your name, handsome knight?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant facepalmed. Not another one. There had been a whole slew of first year female students that were absolutely smitten by the returning war heroes, especially the Outworlders. Gordon shrugged.

"It's 1st Lieutenant James Gordon, ma'am. It's no trouble."

The girl dreamily repeated officer's rank and name, as if she were reciting some kind of poem.

"First Looten't James Gordon…That sounds so gallant! I'm Beatrice, Beatrice Yvonne von Guldenhorf, princess of the Grand Duchy of Guldenhorf."

Gordon shook his head.

"Never heard of it."

He turned to go, but the girl quickly seized his hand.

"Oh, it's a lovely place…Come! You must sit at my table and I'll tell you all about it!"

The lieutenant gently but firmly removed her hand.

"Thanks for the invite, but the sergeant and I have a faculty meeting to get to."

Both soldiers turned to leave, and Gordon spoke over his shoulder.

"Some other time."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Crosby leaned in to his former CO.

"You do realize you're playing with fire, right sir?"

Gordon shrugged.

"Yeah, there's a funny joke behind that."

The sergeant paused.

"Really?"

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yep, you remember me talking about that bratty noble last night?"

Crosby thought back. They had set off for the Academy late in the afternoon, and it was almost dusk by the time the Black Hawk helicopter landed in the Wind courtyard at the Tristain Academy of Magic. As usual there was a large crowd gathered around, but Crosby and Lugo had separated from the others to grab supper in the kitchen with Siesta. There they had been greeted by Chef Marteau, who had fixed the two soldiers and the maid a very sumptuous dinner to welcome them back. Around the dessert time Lugo had been dragged off by Siesta, as she had prepared something special for him, leaving Crosby alone in the kitchen. He wasn't alone for long, as the door burst open and a large, menacing figure advanced inside.

Chef Marteau's eyes widened in fear, and he grabbed a carving knife to defend himself, only to have Crosby talk him down.

"It's okay, Marteau. He's with me."

The chef glanced fearfully at the armored giant, who chuckled and reached up to its head. Gordon flipped up the visor of his helmet and pulled down his balaclava.

"Sorry for the dramatic entrance, sarge, but I just had the most fun ever scaring the shit out of someone."

The Zulu Squad sergeant tore another piece of coarse bread off and chewed on it.

"Yeah? What was the offense?"

Gordon unstrapped his helmet and pulled it off, much to the relief of the kitchen staff.

"Some bratty bitch named Beatrice, she runs this first year clique like the Harry Potter version of Mean Girls, and she was making fun of Tiffania."

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Aha, not very smart of her, in hindsight."

The lieutenant chuckled again.

"She was giving poor Tiff a hard time about wearing a hat, I gues she's still self-conscious about being an elf living among humans. Anyways, so I show up in full Heavy Trooper gear and snarl at her saying 'This one is under the protection of the Jester's Dreaded Golem' or words to that effect. Betcha she needed a change of underwear after that!"

That brought Crosby back to the present, shaking his head at the dangerous game his superior officer was playing.

"I'm telling you that gal looks like she's got some bolts loose. You know how crazy these local gals can get, and when they set their sights on you they don't tend to take no for an answer."

He shuddered at his experiences with the busty redhead Kirche when he had been turned into a teen. He heard Gordon laugh.

"Relax, sarge, that gal looks like she weighs about 90 pounds soaking wet, I've faced down a dragon so I'm not scared of some spoiled teenaged brat."

Crosby caught something pink-haired in his peripheral vision, and turned back to his CO.

"Listen, El-Tee, I'm going to go check on Louise."

Gordon nodded, smiling.

"Roger that, sarge, go check on the walking IED, I'll run ahead and get some chow. When you're done, I want you to meet with Professor Colbert and get a sit-rep on the repairs of the Spectre gunship's engine, and don't forget our debriefing with Osmond this afternoon."

Crosby saluted.

"Roger that."

After the lieutenant left, the sergeant made his way over to the pinkette's table. As he walked past the students, he overheard some of the chatter and realized that their encounter with the first year student had not gone unnoticed.

"That's not fair! All the pretty girls are chasing after older men!"

Crosby paused and saw a round-faced blonde boy sitting at a table. Something about him seemed familiar.

"Malicorne?"

the boy nodded, and continued his rant.

"I don't understand these girls, they chase after guys like you, even when there are boys their own age that are willing to go out with them."

The Zulu Squad sergeant raised an eyebrow.

"Boys like you, I suppose?"

Malicorne nodded emphatically.

"It's just not fair!"

The older soldier shrugged.

"Life sucks all over, kid. But we older men have an unfair advantage on you."

The boy's eyes widened.

"Really, what is that?"

"Two unfair advantages, in fact, kid. One, chicks dig a guy in uniform."

He gestured down to his black and white Zulu Squad armor and uniform.

"And more importantly Two, we don't go around wearing 16 different shades of chick-repellant."

Crosby left the boy puzzled and sat down next to the pinkette and her familiar. Louise looked out of it, she had dark circles under her eyes and was listlessly picking at her food. Even more alarming was the fact that the redhead Kirche Zerbst was openly feeding and flirting with Saito and the pinkette didn't seem to notice or care.

"You know, kid you really shouldn't do that, Louise might blow her stack again."

Saito paused as he swallowed a profiterole that Kirche had lovingly placed in his mouth. Fearfully he glanced back at Louise, waiting for the symptoms of her erupting. Finally the pinkette sighed, and stood up out of her chair. She walked off five paces, then turned back, speaking in a soft tired voice.

"Sir Crosby, I have to go speak to Professor Colbert, will you look after my familiar for me until I return?"

Crosby nodded, and glanced down at her plate. A slice of cake sat untouched on a plate next to her main dish, which was also largely uneaten.

"My lady! Should I have the servants box up this cake for you?"

Louise paused, and shook her head.

"No, you may eat it if you like, I have no appetite."

The Zulu Squad sergeant glanced back at Saito, who was still eating out of the busty redhead's hand.

"Hey, Kirche, can you give me and Saito a minute?"

The Germanian noble gave a bow, showing off her cleavage.

"Of course, anything for my noble old war horse!"

She skipped off, giving a throaty chuckle as she left. When they were alone Crosby turned back to Saito.

"So what gives, what the hell has gotten into Louise?"

The teen shook his head.

"I have no idea, she's keeps having nightmares and I don't think she is getting enough sleep. What do you think it means?"

Images of the battle with the Reconquista flashed through Crosby's mind.

"I have an idea, kid. But I hope it's not what I think it is."

He shot a look over to the door where Louise exited.

"I hope she doesn't do anything rash."

* * *

><p>Colbert heard the door to his laboratory open up and he glanced up from his mixing of ingredients.<p>

"Ah, hello there Miss Vallière, what can I do for you?"

The pinkette approached him with her head lowered.

"There-there's something I want you to do, Professor. A potion I wish you to concoct."

To her surprise, the balding mage chuckled.

"So, you want a love potion, too?"

She looked up in shock.

"What?"

Colbert gestured to several potion bottled glowing with pink liquid. She saw names written on them, Guiche's girlfriend Montmorency, one for someone named Beatrice Guldenhorf, and the tramp Kirche. Louise was shocked to see one that was labeled for Princess Henrietta. She looked back to the professor.

"N-no, I don't need a love potion, I need you to concoct this."

The pinkette handed Colbert a parchment. The professor glanced at the list of ingredients and his eyes widened in shock.

"B-but Miss Vallière, the Potion of Forgetfulness is quite a dangerous potion! Why, it's outlawed in every country of Helkegina for a reason!"

Louise shook her head and lowered her head.

"I don't dare close my eyes, Professor, every time I sleep, I'm back at on the battlefield, either battling the Reconquista, or in some sand-ridden hell that must have been where Sir Crosby and his companions came from."

She raised her head, her wide eyes brimming with tears.

"P-please! Please Professor! Will you do this for me? I'm going out of my mind!"

The professor was silent for a long time, and finally nodded.

"Very well, Miss Vallière. I will do it for you. Lord knows I have seen enough combat where I haven't been tempted to do so myself."

He placed a reassuring hand on the pinkette's shoulder.

"If you ever need to talk about it, let me know. And for Brimir's sake, don't ingest this potion without letting me know first, in case there are complications."

Louise nodded, then turned and left without another word. Professor Colbert sighed, and went back to work. As he concocted the potion he glanced back at the ingredient list, and without looking back grabbed a beaker full of glowing pink liquid and poured it into the potion bottle. He placed it back without looking, but was puzzled that the potion turned pink instead of green. Shrugging, Colbert went back to crafting the other potions in a hurry, as he had other things to do before lunch.

_(AN: Uh-Oh! So anybody who's read the manga or the anime might know where this is going…if not, well you're going to be in for quite a surprise. As previously stated I am trying to show what happens when a character who is not from a war-themed TPS/FPS engages in realistic combat and then has to deal with the after-effects. Hopefully I did it justice with Louise's nightmare.)_


	101. Article 120

_(AN: So, the digits were feeling a bit better so I was able to churn this out pretty quickly. Enjoy!)_

Louise sat alone in her room. It was almost evening, and as she gazed out the window at the setting sun the prospect of sleep crossed her mind, the thought of going to sleep, with the nightmares that would accompany it made her close her eyes and shudder. She opened her eyes, and this time her gaze fell on the potion bottle sitting in on the desk in front of her. The professor had finished the potion, and again had warned her against ingesting it without a teacher or faculty member present, in case there were side-effects.

The prospect of having to endure another night of terror was unbearable; Louise steeled her resolve and reached out to grasp the potion bottle. She placed the bottle to her lips and upended it, draining it contents. At first the pinkette felt nothing, then there was a stabbing pain in her stomach, and fell to the floor. The pain gradually subsided, then a wave of dizziness hit Louise, followed by a gradual warming sensation. She reached up and grasped the chair, dragging herself to unsteady feet, and pulled the door to her room open.

As she staggered out into the hallway she saw the Kirche and Tabitha walk past. The buxom redhead paused and looked over the pinkette with concern.

"Louise! Are you alright? You look deathly ill!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Five minutes later, in a field just outside the Academy)<strong>

Colbert paused in his work to wipe off some beads of sweat, smearing his forehead with oil and grease in the process. He glanced down and waved at the man on the ground.

"Oh, hello there Sir Crosby! Come to see the progress of the repairs?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled. As soon as Professor Colbert had been cleared for discharge from the palace's infirmary he had made no secret about wanted to tinker with and repair the AC-130 gunship's port outer engine.

"How's it coming up there?"

The professor picked up another tool and went back to work, talking excitedly as he worked.

"This machine! It's so incredible, I've never dreamed that such an engine could be made!"

He pulled out a small component to the thermocouple assembly, examining it as if it were a rare species of animal.

"I have gotten the large spinning bladed thing to turn freely, so now that should in turn help compression in the combustion chamber of the engine."

Colbert wiped more sweat off his forehead.

"I still have to tinker with it some more, but probably in another week it will be ready to test start."

Crosby nodded.

"Well, providing we can stay away from declaring war on Albion, I think we'll be alright with that."

He was about to say something more but his radio crackled to life.

_"__Sarge! Are you there? If you're there pick up and respond!"_

It sounded like Lugo's voice, and he sounded out of breathe.

"What's the malfunction, Lugo?"

There was a pause, and the Delta sniper's voice came back through the static.

_"__Holy shit, sarge you aren't gonna believe this but we've got a situation back here at the school. I need you to get back here stat!"_

That sounded odd, thought Crosby.

"Why?"

He almost could hear Lugo shaking his head.

_"__No time to explain, sarge, just get back here."_

Crosby shook his head.

"Why do I get the feeling that this involves our favorite pink-haired walking IED?"

There was another long pause.

_"Ah, that's a solid copy on it being about Pinkie, but it's not in the way you think. What's your ETA to the Wind Courtyard?"_

Now Crosby was worried. Louise had been acting weird at breakfast today. He hoped she wasn't in any danger.

"I'm on my way, less than five mikes."

* * *

><p>When he arrived there Crosby saw there was a huge crowd gathered in the middle of the courtyard. He heard gasps of shock from some first-year girls. He overheard one of them speaking to a classmate.<p>

"It was terrible! I b-barely had time to react, and before I knew it, it happened! I'll not be able to sleep tonight because of it."

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked around, and finally saw Lugo waving him over.

"This way, sarge!"

When Crosby pushed his way through the crowd, he noticed there were several of the first and second year boys that were out cold on the ground, and one of them had a nosebleed. When he finally pushed aside the front row of gawkers, he was greeted by the weirdest sight he had seen since he first arrived in this weird world of magic.

The pinkette Louise was flushed almost as pink as her hair, and was in the process of snuggling the Montmorency, gushing on about how pretty the blonde's ringlets were. The sergeant stood there dumbfounded, unable to speak. When he did it still took effort.

"What…the…fuck?"

He heard Kirche's voice next to him.

"Louise the Zero has gone cuckoo!"

Crosby tore his eyes away from the odd sight to glance over to the redhead.

"What the hell happened?"

She shook her head.

"She came staggering out of her room about five minutes ago, looking deathly ill. I asked her if she was alright, and she stood there staring at me. Then she...began groping me."

The redhead blushed a bit, but then Crosby heard another voice speak up.

"Well, it looks like our walking IED has finally flipped her lip."

Crosby turned the other way to see Lt. Gordon pushing his way through the crowd.

"Do you know what happened, sir?"

The lieutenant shrugged.

"Damned if I know, sergeant. First I found out was a commotion in the student's dorm area, when I got there I saw Pinkie molesting Big Red and what'sername the blue-haired bookworm."

He glanced over to Tiffania.

"Then Tiff showed up, and Pinkie started going after her and her large…assets."

He glanced over to Lugo, who snickered.

"I'll admit it, sergeant, I should have been more bothered by it, but my mind was elsewhere."

Lugo grinned.

"Yeah, I already warned Siesta, she's bunkered up in my room, then I came looking for you."

Crosby turned and saw Professor Colbert pushing his way through the crowd.

"What on earth is going…"

Only to witness Louise, have been rebuffed by Montmorency, was back to fondling Kirche's impressive bust.

"Oh dear me."

He looked over to Crosby.

"I'm afraid this might be my fault, Sir Crosby."

He glanced around at the gathered students and beckoned for the soldier to follow him.

"What I have to tell you is private, please follow me."

* * *

><p><strong>(5 minutes later, Colbert's Laboratory)<strong>

"A Potion of Forgetfullness? Really?"

Crosby shook his head disbelievingly.

"Do you guys have potions and spells for everything?"

Colbert shook his head and chuckled ruefully.

"No, not everything, just things that cause trouble, by the look of it."

"But why? Why did she want such a potion?"

The professor remained silent for a while.

"She…she was experiencing nightmares…flashbacks from the battle in the Reconquista War."

He lowered his bald head.

"I-I admit I should not have done it, such a potion is so powerful and so dangerous that it is outlawed in nearly every country in the land. But I took pity on her."

He looked back up.

"You and I both have experienced the horrors of war, so I couldn't say no to her."

Colbert picked up one of his beakers and shook its contents absentmindedly.

"When she first asked me to make the potion I tried to talk her out of it, saying it was dangerous and could potentially wipe her entire memory."

"Is it permanent?"

Colbert turned to see the concerned look on the older soldier's face. He shook his head.

"No, the side effects of her…attraction to other girls should wear off after a day or two. It was my fault for mixing the love potions."

Crosby glanced down at the various labeled bottles, each with a different name scribbled on the label. He was shocked to find one with Princess Henrietta's name on it. He looked back to Colbert, who smiled sheepishly.

"I-I think that her Highness is getting a bit impatient with your commanding officer."

He turned to continue his work.

Crosby didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded and turned to leave. As he opened the door he heard Colbert speak.

"If it matters to you I would suggest Colonel Konrad not drink any glasses of wine or strong tea that he did not make or decant himself."

The soldier looked back to see the professor talking to him over his shoulder.

"The love potion has a very strong taste that has to be masked by something equally strong."

"Roger that."

He turned on his radio.

"Lugo, this is Crosby, round up Saito and meet me by the landing pad."

_"No prob sarge, want me to bring the lovesick walking IED with me?"_

Crosby shook his head.

"That's a solid negative, do not tell Louise anything. If she asks tell her you're getting a snack in the kitchen."

* * *

><p>Lugo stood by the Black Hawk as Saito went through the preflight check-ups. He saw the Zulu Squad sergeant approach and waved him over.<p>

"So what's the deal, sarge?"

Crosby reached into his bellows pocket and pulled out an ornate ring.

"This ring belonged to the Water Spirit, the one who cured me of my…condition. Since I have it back, I figured we should make a trip to Gallia and return it. I promised her I would return it, and now's as good of time as any. Maybe the Water Spirit can give me another one of her tears to cure Louise."

Lugo grinned.

"Riiight if nothing else this also keeps us away from lovesick Pinkie."

Their conversation was interrupted when a voice called out.

"Wait!"

Lugo looked up and saw Guiche's girlfriend Montmorency approach.

"The Water Spirit will not appear unless summoned by a Montmorency, you'll need me."

She carefully looked over her shoulder.

"And I need to get away from Louise the Horndog."

She blushed and shuddered.

"Such disgusting, licentious behavior. Improper for a lady of noble birth."

There was another female voice that echoed across the courtyard.

"Hold up!"

The blonde and the Delta sniper turned, and saw Kirche running towards them at full steam, followed by her blue-haired friend in hot pursuit.

"Don't leave us alone with that decadent Louise! I'll never be able to sleep again!"

Tabitha caught up and nodded once.

"Ditto."

Lugo shook his head and chuckled, looking back to Crosby.

"Well, looks like we've got some passengers on this road trip."

Crosby nodded.

"Alright, everybody mount up and get strapped in."

He turned to Saito.

"Fire it up and don't spare the horses, kid. We need to get out of here before Louise knows we're gone."

* * *

><p>A loud droning noise made Louise pause in her snuggling of a brunette 2nd year girl. She stopped and looked up, only to see her familiar's airship taking off. The pinkette was so engrossed by the departing craft that she didn't see the girl disengage from her and take off at a breakneck run.<p>

"Hmm, that's odd, I wonder where my familiar is off to?"

Her musings were interrupted by a loud commanding voice.

"What is the meaning of all this?"

She turned to see the blonde noble from Guldenhorf with her two friend sneering at her. Immediately Louise's eyes brightened up, and without warning she pounced on the girl.

"Oh! Beatrice! You're hair is sooooo pretty, I just want to run my hands through it!"

_(AN: I was toying with the idea of Louise resorting to drastic measures to cure her PTSD, but given how much of a response I got from the yuri tease of LouiseXSiesta, I thought this was appropriate. Next chapter shouldn't take as long, and things are going to start picking up. Also I'm debating dropping another member of the 33__rd__ into Helkeginia to balance things out, but still deciding on the who's, the where's and the why's. Until next time!)_


	102. Section 8

_(AN: I'm back…although I'm winding back down to 1-2 chapters a week between this and one other fic I've reached my 50K word goal for NaNoWrimo, so yay for me! Whisky and frothy mugs of water all around!)_

Lugo peered out the open door of the Black Hawk as it banked off to the side. A large mansion with a manicured lawn the size of several football fields was below them, and was getting larger as the chopper descended to the ground.

"Umm, sarge? Remind me again why we're stopping at an estate in a Gallia, a country that has a price on some of our heads?"

It was the blue-haired bookworm who answered the Delta sniper, interestingly enough. Tabitha pointed at the sprawling estate.

"My house."

Lugo stared at the girl.

"That's your digs? Jeez doesn't anyone live in a normal three bedroom bungalow any more?"

The girl stared at him as if he were speaking another language. She shrugged.

"Father is the Duke of Orleans."

Crosby's voice came through on Lugo's radio.

_"__Relax, Lugo. Tabitha just wanted to stop by her house on the way to Lagdorian Lake. We'll be in and out before you know it."_

The sniper shook his head.

"I dunno, I got a bad feeling about this."

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later, at Tabitha's estate)<strong>

"So, all you need to do is summon the Water Spirit again and she'll come?"

The blonde girl set down her teacup and nodded once.

"She will recognize my blood."

Crosby looked down at his own teacup, which looked ridiculously tiny in his gloved hands. As soon as they arrived at the estate, the servants escorted them into a formal parlor. Tabitha excused herself and left through a side door in the parlor. The older sergeant noticed that Kirche, who was distractedly gazing at the same door. Finally Lugo's curiosity got the better of him.

"What gives, Big Red?"

Kirche glanced up and flushed.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all! Certainly it has nothing to do with Tabitha's secret."

She paused for a moment and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh dear! I let that slip."

Crosby glanced down at his helmet and balaclava and back to the redhead.

"What secret? Just what the hell is behind that door?"

Before Kirche could speak, a servant entered and refilled their tea.

"Mistress Charlotte wished to inform you that she is unwell, and will not be able to join you on your quest."

That caught both soldiers' attention.

"Charlotte? Who the hell is Charlotte?"

The redhead lowered her eyes.

"That is her name, Tabitha's real name."

Saito's eyes widened.

"B-but why?"

Kirche looked back up.

"You must understand, that Gallia as a country is rife with intrigue, assassinations and backstabbing. Charlotte's father and King Jozef are brothers, and there was a terrible civil war over who would take the throne."

She brightened up for a moment and gave a throaty chuckle.

"I should point out that as barbaric as Germania seems, at least we don't fight over who gets the throne. We only fight over money and women."

Crosby shook his head.

"But how does Tabitha, or Charlotte fit in all this?"

The redhead sobered up, and her eyes began to fill with tears.

"Her father was assassinated by a poisoned arrow, by possibly even by the king. And since the king is without an heir that made her in line for succession to the Gallian throne."

She set down her teacup and wiped her eyes.

"Then they came after her."

Crosby got up and went over to where Kirche was sitting. He crouched next to her.

"What happened?"

"It was at a party for her fourteenth birthday. A man, a stranger, gave her a glass of wine. It was poison, a Spell of Unremembering. Her mother saw the cup was poisoned and tried to warn her. She was almost too late, and the mother drank it in her stead."

"Did it…did it kill her mother?"

Kirche shook her head.

"No, but her mother is now insane, a shell of her former self. She cradles a ragdoll, and think that is Charlotte. Even worse, she regards her own daughter as an intruder, a threat."

She looked back up to Crosby, her eyes shimmering.

"If only there was something we could do!"

A light came on in the Zulu Squad sergeant's head.

"As a matter of fact…"

* * *

><p>Charlotte Hélène d'Orléans, known as Tabitha to her friends, sat alone on a bench in the garden of her father's estate. Though it was a sunny afternoon day there was a pall cast over the taciturn girl. The reunion with her mother was no different than the last time; a wild-eyed old woman clutching a ragged doll to her breast, cursing at her real daughter and telling her to stay away. It was too much, and Tabitha lowered her head. The sound of soft weeping could be heard over the gurgling of the fountain in the garden. Then she heard a voice behind her.<p>

"You could have told us, know you."

She turned and saw it was Louise's bodyguard, Sir Crosby. She could tell by the sad look in his blue eyes that he knew the truth. She shook her head and looked away, awkwardly wiping away her tears.

"My burden."

Crosby sat down on the bench next to her.

"If you told us we could have found a cure."

Tabitha shook her head again.

"Already tried, spell is irreversible."

The older soldier smiled.

"That's what they said when Louise turned me into a teenaged version of myself."

It took a moment for the blue-haired girl to process what Crosby was implying, then her own eyes widened. The sergeant reached into his bellows pocket and pulled out the Water Spirit's ring.

"It's worth a shot, don't you think?"

She followed Crosby back into the house, and was greeted by the sight of the older soldier being glomped by Kirche.

"Oh! Sir Crosby! you're so smart and compassionate! What a shame you weren't still young like me!"

With considerable effort the Zulu Squad sergeant pulled himself away from the busty redhead.

"No more of that, Kirche. If we're going to do this we'd better set out now."

He looked over to Saito.

"Go get the `Bird fired up and ready, we'll be out there shortly."

Crosby looked back to Tabitha.

"You want to come with us?"

The blue-haired girl gave a small smile and shook her head.

"Rather stay here. Good luck."

The older soldier glanced over to Lugo.

"Ready to roll, sergeant?"

To his surprise, the Delta sniper shook his head.

"Actually, if you don't mind I'll stay here, sarge."

He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Truth be told I'd rather not run across any of King Jozef's mercs when we're out there by the lake."

He glanced around the house.

"At least here I'm safe."

Crosby shrugged.

"Your choice, sergeant."

He looked over to Montmorency, who had finished her tea.

"Time to go, Blondie, let's move."

* * *

><p>It was almost dusk when they reached Lagdorian Lake, as the Black Hawk came in on approach Crosby noted that the village was still flooded. He leaned over and spoke into his radio.<p>

"Set us down on that flat patch, Specialist, but keep the `Bird fired up, in case any of Jozef's goons show up."

Saito voice came through on the radio.

"Roger that, sarge."

The sun reflected red on the surface of the lake as the small group approached it. Once again, Montmorency pulled out a pin and pricked her finger, allowing a small drop of blood to land on her familiar. The toad hopped into the lake. A long minute passed, then the water began to boil, then a waterspout sprang from the surface of the lake and roiled the water. The column of water shimmied before taking the form of a young woman. Her voice echoed across the lake.

"Who is it that has awakened me?"

Crosby approached.

"It is I, Noble Nøkk, I have come to fulfill a promise I made to you."

He opened a pouch on his assault vest and produced a ring.

"Behold your Ring."

The spirit leaned in closer.

"You have accomplished the task I asked of you, and have kept your promise, _Lífþrasir_. I am gladdened to see my property restored to me."

Crosby took a step forward.

"I seek a favor, Noble Nøkk."

The Water Spirit came closer, and the Zulu Squad sergeant could feel the runes on his forearm itching.

"What is it you seek, _Lífþrasir_?"

He gestured around the lake.

"I ask you to first recede your tides from the village, and second I humbly request for another of your tears."

The spirit seemed to think for a moment.

"Why do you need another part of my body?"

"I need it to heal a deep hurt. Someone was poisoned, and now she does not recognize her own daughter."

He took another step, almost in the water.

"Please, spirit, I'll do anything you ask of me, but I need that tear."

The Water Spirit bent down, so that it's watery visage was almost on level with his.

"Your heart beats true, _Lífþrasir_, so I will give you what you ask."

There was a blinding flash, and an explosion of water. When Crosby opened his eyes, he saw another potion bottle bobbling to the surface at his feet. He also saw runes engraved on a flat rock, and heard the spirit's voice echo across the lake.

"As thanks for restoring my property, I will give you another gift. Use it wisely."

He picked up the potion and the rock, and looked over to the blonde girl.

"What does it say, Montmorency?"

She picked up the stone and examined the runes.

"They are ancient, and I would need my books back at school to decipher it. The only one I can make out is your rune, Lífþrasir."

Crosby shrugged and pocketed the potion bottle.

"Well, let's get this back to Tabitha's mom, then get back to Tristain and find out what it means."

He spoke into his radio.

"Specialist, we're on the move, so get ready!"

_(AN: So I really hadn't touched on the runes on Crosby's arm in a while, and I decided to give another teaser. And I know I'm jumping around by having Tabitha's mom's illness cured, but it was something necessary for the plot.)_


	103. Hell Hath No Fury

_(AN: So we're going to shift gears and focus, for a couple of reasons. One, things are going to get really heavy once the 'main' storyline progresses, so I think a bit more 'anime' humour is in order. Second, I've been neglecting some of the secondary characters, so this mini arc will give him and some of the others some more time in the limelight, and some more humor.)_

**(Tristain Academy of Magic, T+12 Hours after Bravo Zero departed on Operation Section 8)**

The dining hall was bustling with first and second-year students getting their breakfasts, the hall was buzzing with rumors and stories. Some of the girls were blushing and giggling over the Outworlder soldiers that had appeared at the school in the past couple of day, still others were gossiping about the 'incident' that occurred in the Wind Courtyard yesterday afternoon. Guiche de Gramont was above such petty things, and preferred to chat up his friend Malicorne and a first-year student.

"...of course I have traveled with these Outworlders, they recognize a powerful mage's prowess when they see it!"

The chubby student named Malicorne finished feeding his familiar, and owl, and interrupted.

"That's all fine and dandy, Guiche, but I want to know what secret they have that keeps the girls falling for them!"

The blonde fop let out a patronizing chuckle and made a sweeping gesture with his rose wand.

"Aha, Malicorne, there you are a disadvantage! You must be in the confidence of the Outworlders to learn such a secret! Why, I had to go on not one but two dangerous missions with them to gain their confidence."

He paused to take a sip of sweet tea.

"And none of those Outworlders are more noble than Sir Crosby, the Black and White Knight! Such a shame that his talents are wasted being a babysitter to Louise the Zero!"

Malicorne nodded.

"Speaking of Louise, how is she doing?"

Guiche shrugged.

"Still recovering in the infirmary."

The cherubic-faced student finished petting his owl and sighed.

"It is a shame that I didn't know about it until after the fact."

The first year student, a black-haired boy named Hervé, spoke up.

"It wouldn't have mattered, Malicorne. Louise was only attracted to girls when she was under the spell."

Guiche nodded in agreement.

"Indeed, and such wanton behavior to boot. Why, it was because of her that my delicate flower MonMon went off with the Outworlders on their mission!"

He chuckled to himself.

"Although, I have sought solace from my loneliness with the help of a couple of pretty first year students."

Hervé finished eating a slice of bread.

"Say, speaking of first year students, did you see that pretty girl with the blonde hair and the lovely large bosom?"

The blonde flop sighed theatrically.

"Ah yes, of course Hervé, how could I forget those breasts of hers."

He paused.

"Of course, I cannot for the life of me remember her name…"

Hervé nodded.

"Yes, yes. Do you think they're real?"

"Oh I would say so, of course I wouldn't mind finding out, but alas I can't. More's the pity."

Malicorne paused in stuffing three sausages in his mouth.

"Why?"

"Because, that girl is already spoken for!"

The other boy dropped his forkful of sausage.

"Wait, what? She hasn't even been in school for a day and someone has already swept her off her feet?"

Guiche laughed at rosy-cheeked boy's consternation.

"Haha! Well, as much as it pains me to tell you this, Malicorne, but that beautiful girl with lovely breasts was paired off with one of the Outworlders long before she ever came to this school."

"What!"

The blonde fop nodded.

"Yes, now what was his name, he was the superior officer of Sir Crosby…Gourden? Garden?"

"You mean James Gordon?!"

A female voice hissed behind Guiche, and he jumped as he spun around. There was the first year girl, Beatrice de Guldenhorf, with two other girls, glaring daggers at him.

"Er-er-ah, yes! It was Lieutenant Gordon, the girl was betrothed to him when they were in the desert searching for the Steel Dragon."

He looked over to Hervé.

"I saw it's destructive power at the Battle for Tristainia, you know!"

He yelped as Beatrice cuffed him on the side of the head.

"Nevermind that! You mean to tell me that my beloved James Gordon, the one with a heavenly visage and warm brown eyes, the man who makes my heart beat faster, is already attached to another girl? And not just any girl but that ridiculous commoner girl who keeps wearing a hat around school?"

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, at the Tristainia Palace)<strong>

Konrad accepted a mug of coffee from Lt. McPherson and a scroll of papers that served as reports. As he sipped his coffee the colonel unfurled the scroll and scanned its contents. What he saw made him raise an eyebrow.

"Lieutenant, might I know why three of my men are currently traveling through a potentially hostile country?"

McPherson nodded.

"Sir, Sgt. Crosby wanted to return the Water Spirit's ring."

Konrad held up the scroll.

"That I am aware of, McPherson, this report told me as much. What I want to know is why?"

"Um…well, sir apparently the walking IED ingested some sort of potion that made her have the hots for all the girls in the school."

That revelation almost made Konrad drop his mug.

"What?"

The lieutenant continued.

"Well, apparently she was suffering from nightmares and asked Professor Colbert for some sort of potion that would help her forget…except the potions got mixed up somehow."

Konrad chuckled to himself.

"Lieutenant, sometimes I forget that we're in this weird world, then a curveball comes out of nowhere and reminds me."

He shook his head.

"If this were a movie I'd say it was a contrived plot device for fulfilling some perverted author's girls gone wild fantasy."

McPherson looked over his shoulder lowered his voice.

"Sir, one more thing. Crosby told me that apparently that one of the reason the potions got mixed up was that some of the female students were commissioning Professor Colbert into making love potions for their respective lovers."

Konrad shrugged.

"Well, such is their prerogative, lieutenant."

McPherson took a step forward.

"According to Crosby, Princess Henrietta's name was on one of those potion bottles, sir."

That caused the colonel to pause, and he looked up from his paperwork.

"You mean?"

The lieutenant grinned.

"Apparently Colbert told Crosby that the princess was getting a bit…impatient, sir."

Konrad returned the grin.

"Duly noted, lieutenant. From now on I'll be extra suspicious if the princess hands me a goblet of wine."

He went back to his paperwork.

"Alright lieutenant, that'll be all. Carry on."

McPherson gave a crisp salute.

"Roger that, sir."

McPherson left his CO to finish reading reports and exited the barracks. He opened a door that led to one of the palace's many courtyards, and stopped, he heard the sharp crack of a rifle being fired. Instinctively he drew his weapon, only to relax a second later when he saw where the sound came from.

Alex Walker was lying in a prone position next to the chevalier Agnès who was flat on her stomach aiming Alex's M99 at a target on the far wall of the courtyard. The private looked up from his binoculars.

"Good shot, but you need to zero in on the target."

The chevalier pushed herself up from the sniper rifle and looked down at her beau.

"You mean the cross-haired aiming device isn't accurate?"

Alex chuckled.

"Well, it is, but at varying ranges you always have to calibrate the scope, and zeroing in on the target is the best way."

He looked past Agnès and saw McPherson standing there. Immediately he stood up at attention.

"Sir."

The lieutenant returned the salute.

"As you were, private. Never thought you'd let someone else handle your weapon, private. You two must be getting serious."

Alex blushed, but the chevalier didn't get the reference as she stood up.

"Ah, well, I figured if we ever do mass produce sniper rifles we need to train the locals how to use it, sir."

Agnès nodded emphatically.

"Yes! Alex has been incredible with his instruction, I can't wait to fire his weapon again."

The innuendo dawned on her and she blushed a deep pink and lowered her eyes.

"Umm, I mean Private Alex's rifle, of course."

McPherson grinned and was about to make a snappy reply when his radio crackled to life.

_"__Any friendly on this frequency this is Heavy Four, please respond, urgent!"_

McPherson pulled out his radio and responded

"Heavy Four this is McPherson, go ahead."

_"Oh, thank Christ! McPherson we have a situation here at the Academy I am requesting immediate backup!"_

Both the private and the lieutenant exchanged a look.

"Ah, roger that, Gordon, what's the sitch?"

_"Sitch is FUBAR, McPherson! Some crazy bitch at the school is trying to boil Tiff like a lobster! There's too many of them-"  
><em>

There was more static and McPherson caught only snippets of the conversation.

_"__-Let go…fucker…backup!"_

Alex was the first to speak.

"What the hell can we do, sir? It's at least half a day of hard riding to get to the Academy from Tristainia. And Bravo Zero is in Gallia."

Then Agnès spoke up.

"Wait! We can use the griffons! They're faster than dragons!"

McPherson nodded.

"Then make it happen."

He keyed his radio.

"Lieutenant Gordon, if you can hear this we're coming with backup. ETA is less than an hour, try to stall for time for as long as you can."

The lieutenant lowered his radio.

"Private, go and help her wrangle a couple of griffons, I'll inform Konrad of the sitch."

Alex saluted.

"Roger that, sir."

* * *

><p>The palace's kitchen was bustling with servants and chefs cleaning dishes from luncheon, some of the chefs were already starting preparations for dinner. Then the door opened, and all activity came to a halt. The head chef dropped to one knee at the sight of Princess Henrietta.<p>

"You Highness! You grace our lowly station with your presence."

The princess smiled lightly.

"Arise, Mr. Cullier, I merely wanted to pay a compliment on your cooking."

She glanced about, and noticed a servant girl carrying a tray. Henrietta noticed the wine goblet was untouched.

"The lord general did not care for the vintage of wine?"

The servant girl shook her head.

"No, your majesty. He didn't even touch it."

The princess sighed, and the servant girl continued.

"He was very apologetic, and said something about wine was disagreeing with his stomach, which is why he refused it."

Henrietta nodded, and turned to go when she almost collided with another servant. He was bearing a tray with a steaming pot and a white mug with an eagle emblem on the side. The servant was apologizing profusely.

"I-I apologize, your Majesty! I did not see you!"

The princess shook her head.

"It is no trouble. Where are you off to?"

The servant nodded at the door.

"Off to deliver more coffee to Lord General Konrad, you Majesty."

A small smile played on Henrietta's lips.

"Coffee, you say?"

Then without warning the princess snatched the tray out of the servant's hands.

"Do not worry yourself about the coffee, I am going to see him myself, I will deliver it."

Both the servants and the chef watched as the princess exited the kitchen bearing the tray, then went back to their work. They didn't see that Henrietta was still smiling as she left.

_(AN: Uh-oh! Well, we all know where this is going. As teslashark said, Konrad might be on his guard, but coffee is his weaksauce weakness. As for the other sitch, well shit is rapidly unravelling, hopefully the cavalry shows up before things get too serious at the school! Next up will show the events that led up to the FUBAR sitch at the Academy, as Beatrice shows off her Yandere side!)_


	104. A Woman, Scorned

_(AN: And here we learn about the events that led up to the particular FUBAR sitch at the Academy and the ensuing Charlie-Foxtrot...)_

"I don't believe you!"

The blonde fop Guiche nervously cleared his throat.

"It's true! I swear it's true, I-I mean I didn't see the actual marriage myself, b-but…"

He withered under the immolating glare Beatrice was giving him. Malicorne spoke up.

"A-and she's not a commoner! She is a mage, I-I saw her cast a spell that destroyed the red Dragon!"

The blonde girl with the long twin-tails diverted her attention over to Malicorne, and the cherubic-faced second year student wilted under her glare.

"As I said, I don't care!"

She closed her eyes, much to the relieve of Guiche and Malicorne, clasped her hands to her chest, and sighed theatrically.

"That lovely Outworlder knight James Gordon and I are destined to be together forever, I knew it the moment I saw him and his angelic visage."

The first year boy Hervé opened his mouth to probably contradict what Beatrice was saying, but was immediately and frantically shushed by Guiche. As it turned out, the girl was distracted. The object of her affections had just set foot in the dining hall. Beatrice's light blue eyes widened at the sight of him, and her eyes began to shimmer. As she started off, she turned her head to the side to address Guiche's table.

"I shall show you, I shall show you all how wrong you are. This James Gordon cannot resist the charms of a Princess of Guldenhorf!"

As Beatrice and her entourage left, Guiche shuddered.

"I have a feeling I may have started something bad."

He glanced over to the Outworlder named Gordon and shook his head.

"I wish Sir Crosby was here, he has a particular knack for fixing things."

As it turned out, Lt. Gordon was also wondering where Crosby was. It was already morning and he received no word from either the Zulu Squad sergeant or Bravo Zero. Tiffania was meeting with Osmond for orientation, so the lieutenant had decided to kill some time until she got out. He had warned the naïve elf that it was unacceptable for anyone to grope her, even if he was the headmaster of the school. He really shouldn't have to say these things, but Crosby had told him that the headmaster, in addition to being a powerful mage, was also a horny old goat and a lecher of the first degree. The lieutenant's thoughts were interrupted by someone calling his name.

"James Gordon!"

He turned, and promptly cursed under his breath. It was the blonde girl with the antenna-like hair, he really didn't have time for this shit.

"Look, kiddo this isn't a good time and-"

The green-haired girl to the left of blonde glared at him.

"Show some respect to Princess Beatrice von Guldenhorf!"

The blonde raise a hand, and the green-haired girl stopped in her rant. She turned to Gordon, her light blue eyes shimmering.

"Please, James Gordon, I heard a terrible slander just this morning! Tell me it isn't true, that I have no rival for your affection!"

Lt. Gordon rolled his eyes, and for once wished he had put on his Heavy Trooper armor.

"Listen, Beatrice, wasn't it?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Okay, listen Beatrice, you a nice girl and all, and I'm sure that whatever guy wins you hand will be a lucky SOB, but I'm already attached."

He saw Beatrice's eyes well up with tears, so he awkwardly ended the conversation and started to go.

"Um, sorry for any confusion, kid."

Not wanting to cause a scene, Gordon left the girl crying with her friends attempting to console her. Quickly he left the dining hall, and went searching for Tiffania to warn her. Unfortunately for him, he was sidetracked by maid Siesta, who again had asked him if there had been any word from Crosby or Lugo. By the time he had extricated himself from Siesta, the first year students had all filed in for classes, and he didn't see the elf girl anywhere.

Gordon decided to kill some time and walked outside the school property to where the AC-130 Gunship was parked. Professor Colbert was still tinkering with it, by the look of things the outboard engine was almost completely reassembled, and now the professor was focusing on the elevators and flap on the wing. When he saw Gordon approach the professor waved him over. When he was close to the wing he called up to Colbert.

"Hey! How's the repairs coming, Professor?"

The balding mage peered over the side of the wing.

"I think I have fixed the motor, but I need someone to go inside and test it, can you try?"

Gordon shrugged.

"Sure, I got some time to kill."

The lieutenant walked around the nose of the aircraft and pulled open the side access hatch. Once inside he looked off to the port wing to make sure Colbert was well out of the propellers and turbine intake. He saw the professor give him the thumbs-up, then Gordon reached up and turned the AC POWER knob to the ON position, and the DC POWER switch to the ON position. He then reached over to and toggled the GTC Door switch to OPEN, and then turned the GTC knob to START. Immediately he heard the high-pitched whine as the turbine gathered speed and started generating enough electricity to start the engine.

He looked back at Colbert, who had retreated to a safe distance. So far, so good. Gordon went through the procedures to run fuel to engine #4. When all the systems were green, he reached over and pushed the start button. There was a sputter, and the exhaust port spat out oily black smoke, and for a moment Gordon didn't think the engine would catch. He almost started the shutdown procedure, when the engine caught and the propeller started to turn. He grinned, that crazy professor actually fixed it! He powered down the engine and finished the shutdown procedure before exiting the cockpit. Outside he could see that Colbert was practically bursting with excitement.

"Did you see that?! The engine, it is fixed! This is a momentous occasion!"

The lieutenant grinned, but then he caught sight of a figure running from the school towards him at high speed. As it got closer he could see it was the blonde fop Guiche. The boy came to a panting halt in front of Gordon, and wheezed.

"Lieutenant Gordon! You must come back to the school, I fear that your beloved, the lovely girl with the exquisite breasts is in trouble!"

Gordon shook his head and cursed.

"Shit! Let me guess, that first year alpha bitch got a hold of her and now they're having a cat fight?"

Guiche shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid it's worse than that, I'm afraid that Beatrice will find out that Tiffania is an elf!"

Gordon followed after Guiche, who had started back for the school.

"So?"

Guiche stopped and stared at the Outworlder as if he had grown a second head.

"You don't know?"

He lowered his head.

"The elves have been enemies of mages since the time of Brimir, since their defeat they are treated worse than commoners."

The blonde fop looked directly at Gordon.

"But the nobles of Guldenhorf harbor an especial hatred for elves, as their people suffered greatest in the First Crusades against the elves."

That caught Gordon's attention, and immediately he started running towards the school. He cursed himself again that he wasn't in his Heavy Trooper armor, hell he didn't even had a sidearm. As he ran the lieutenant reached into his bellows pocket and pulled out the long range radio and turned it to channel twelve.

"_To any friendly on this frequency this is Heavy Four IFF authentication is Romeo Foxtrot Juliet Golf, Four, Zero Niner, how copy?!"_

There was no response but static on the other end. Gordon raced through one of the side doors that opened to the courtyard and his heart sank. There was a crowd of students gathered, off to the side he could see both the blonde 1st year student and Tiff as well. He could also see that Tiffania wasn't wearing her hat, and her long pointed ears poked out of her hair for all to see.

_"__Any friendly on this frequency this is Heavy Four, please respond!"_

He could hear the exchange between Beatrice and the elf girl.

"…So, you are an elf!"

"-Actually I'm only half elf, my mother was an elf but my father was a noble!"

Beatrice pointed a finger at Tiffania.

"You are a member of the hated race that almost exterminated my people! What do you have to say about that, elf?!"

As Gordon got closer, he could hear poor Tiffania give a flustered answer. He also could see that Beatrice wasn't alone. There were musketeers wielding halberds but wearing a livery different from Tristain, they had surrounded both the blonde girl and Tiffania. He heard Beatrice speak again.

"So, since you are an elf you still don't worship that Devil in the Desert, do you?"

Tiffania shook her head emphatically.

"No! And it's not a devil, it's one of the Outworlder's airships!"

Beatrice took a step forward.

"But you do worship our Founder Brimir, do you not?"

When the elf remained silent, Beatrice turned to one of her guards.

"Go fetch a cauldron and fill it with boiling water, we shall have this girl convert, or she will perish!"

"Stop this insane bullshit!"

Both Tiffania and Beatrice turned to see who shouted, and it was the Outworlder named Gordon, who was holding some sort of blocky device.

"Beatrice, what the hell are you doing?"

She turned to him, her pale blue eyes shimmering with tears.

"Tell me it isn't so! Tell me that you are not betrothed to this heathen elf!"

Gordon shook his head.

"Sorry to shit in your post-toasties, but Tiffania and I were wedded in the Desert. You're the interloper here."

He glanced over to Tiffania, whose eyes were wide with fear.

"Now stop this shit before it gets out of hand."

Beatrice's face contorted into a scowl, and she turned and pointed a finger at Tiffania.

"This is all your fault! You seduced my fair knight with your Devil's magic! Well, I will free my knight in shining armor from your wiles!"

She turned to her guards.

"Seize her."

Gordon took a step forward, then his radio crackled to life.

_ "__Heavy Four this is McPherson, go ahead."  
><em>

Both the noble and her guards were perplexed by the radio speaking, but Gordon took advantage of the situation and keyed the mic on his radio.

"Oh, thank Christ! McPherson we have a situation here at the Academy I am requesting immediate backup!"

There was a pause before McPherson responded.

_"__Ah, roger that, Gordon, what's the sitch?"_

Gordon saw that some of the guards were reaching for Tiffania, so he quickly tried to put himself in between her and them.

"Sitch is FUBAR, McPherson! Some crazy bitch at the school is trying to boil Tiff like a lobster!"

The lieutenant kicked out with a boot and sent one of the guard reeling back. He grabbed the guard's halberd and lunged with it to keep the guards at bay.

There's too many of them, I can't hold them off for long! Send backup!"

He didn't realize that his thumb slipped off the mic key. Two guards attacked him at once, and tackled the soldier to the ground. Frantically he spoke into his radio._  
><em>

"Let go of me you fucker! McPherson if you are reading this sent backup ASAP, I am being held against my will, repeat send backup!"

One of the guards snatched the radio out of his hand, and he saw a pair of feet approach him. Beatrice looked down at him with sorrowful eyes.

"It breaks my heart to see you enthralled by this heathen elf's spell."

She knelt down and caressed his cheek.

"But don't worry, you will not be for long."

Beatrice stood up and barked a command to the leader of her guards.

"Take him to my room and lock him in there until this is over."

As the leader bowed and turned to go, she stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

"And no matter how much he resists I don't want him harmed, is that clear?"

The leader nodded in acknowledgement, and Beatrice watched her guards take her beloved away, then absently tossed the Outworlder's communication device aside. She then directed her attention to Tiffania, who quailed under her scrutiny. Beatrice gave the elf an evil smile.

"Soon, James Gordon will be freed from your spell, elf. And then he will be all mine!"

* * *

><p>"Heavy Four, this is Bravo Six-Two, we are inbound with backup do you copy, over?"<p>

Alex looked over to Lt. McPerson, and shook his head. They were flying at breakneck speed towards the Academy in two borrowed griffons, McPherson had ridden horses before on his family's ranch in Montana, so he knew his way around a tackle and bit. Alex on the other hand was a city slicker, so he had the humiliating honor of being Agnès de Milan's passenger. He was holding onto the female knight's waist for dear life. He heard McPherson's voice in his radio earpiece.

_"__Afraid of flying, Private?"  
><em>

Alex shook his head and keyed the mic around his neck.

"That's a negative sir, but I am afraid of falling."

He heard the lieutenant chuckle through the static.

_"__Relax, kid, these griffons are like riding a horse."  
><em>

"Yeah, if the horse has the front end of an eagle and is flying at roughly the speed of sound."

He was interrupted by Agnès speaking over her shoulder to him.

"We're almost to the Academy, hold on!"

After a steep dive that left Alex's stomach somewhere back at 5,000 feet, he swore they had reached terra firma. He didn't know for certain because he had shut his eyes through the whole ordeal. Then he heard Agnès giggle.

"We're on the ground now, you can let go if you want."

He opened his eyes to see McPherson standing next to him grinning.

"C'mon, private, let's see how bad the sitch is."

**(5 minutes later)**

Alex peered through the scope of his M99, then spoke into his radio.

"Sir, be advised I have eyes on the package."

McPherson's voice came through the static.

_"__Roger that, is the package alright?"  
><em>

The young sniper squinted through his scope again.

"Ah, she's tied up, and dangling over a large kettle of boiling water. Other than that she's fine."

He heard a chuckle.

_"__Understood. Any sign of Gordon?"_

Alex scanned the courtyard.

"Negative. No sign of the loot."

He glanced over to Agnès, who was standing ready with her blackpowder revolver. McPherson's voice spoke up again on his radio.

_"__Okay, here's the plan, private. You and the knight create a diversion, preferably one that involves getting the package out of harm's way. I'll see if I can track down Gordon. Maintain radio contact as the situation remains fluid."  
><em>

Alex keyed his mic.

"Solid copy, El-Tee."

He looked back at Agnès.

"So, sweetie, here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

><p>Tiffania shook her head.<p>

"No, I can't go back, my place is with my beloved! You can't separate us!"

Beatrice leaned in and glared at the elf.

"You are in no position to demand anything, elf! Now, you will release my beautiful knight from the hex that you have him under, and go back to the desert where you belong! To refuse is to stay here and be executed as a heretic!"

Suddenly there was a loud crack, and the ground in front of her exploded in a shower of dirt and grass. A voice called out across the courtyard.

"Halt! In the name of her Majesty Princess Henrietta of Tristain, halt this madness!"

Beatrice looked up and saw a an armored knight with a chevalier's cloak approach, brandishing what looked like a long-barreled pistol. As the chevalier got closer, Beatrice could see that it was a woman with short blonde hair. The crest on her armored breastplate did indeed carry the royal Tristainian coat of arms. The Guldenhorf noble sighed to herself. This was a complication she did not need.

"This is a Church matter, knight! It does not concern the court of Tristain."

The blonde knight pulled the hammer back on her pistol, advancing a cylinder construct just underneath the barrel. She glared at Beatrice.

"On the contrary, girl."

She gestured with her pistol up at the bound Tiffania.

"That elf is under the protection of the Outworlders, known as the Damned 33rd. They are her Majesty's elite cadre within the Royal Tristainian Army."

Agnès gave a shark-like smile.

"To cross them is to court death, girl."

As if to punctuate the point, there was another deafening crack, and one of Beatrice's knights was flung back and hit the stone wall with such force as to crack it. When two of his comrades rushed to his side, they were shocked to see a hole punched through the unfortunate bodyguard's chest. They looked back at the chevalier, who was still smiling evilly.

"Their weapons are beyond anything you can imagine, girl. They took on the Reconquista invasion armada and decimated it, though they were outnumbered ten to one. They answer to no one save Princess Henrietta. And I don't think a little duchy like Guldenhorf would be missed if they decided to go to war with it over some spoiled brat killing one of their own out of jealously."

There was another loud crack, this one hit the cauldron, splashing boiling hot water on the two guards next to it, and scalding them before the water dissolved in a cloud of steam.

Then, the door to the courtyard that had been barred shut exploded outwards in a shower of splinters. What emerged from the cloud caused every remaining bodyguard to lose control of their bowels. A large armored figure trudged forward, and aimed it's cannon at the closest group of bodyguards. It spoke in a deep, menacing voice.

**"****You dare provoke the Jester's Golem?! I shall flense your flesh from bone, tear your limbs apart, and when you die I shall feast on your soulsss!"**

It took another step forward, causing most of the bodyguards to drop their halberds and flee. It continued to advance forward, towards Beatrice, who by this point was completely alone. She tried to flee, but she was trapped, backed into a corner of the courtyard. Then, the golem did something that Beatrice did not expect. It turned slowly walked over to where the elf girl was still dangling, and shot the rope that was suspending her. Tiffania fell into the arms of the golem, who, to Beatrice's shock, was embracing it. The golem gently put the elf on the ground, then turned back to the Guldenhorf noble. It reached up and pulled on its bulbous head, pulling it off. That shocked her enough, but another shock greeted her when she saw what was underneath the head. It was James Gordon!

Gordon slowly walked up to the frightened blonde noble. He smiled to himself at the idea that she must have been scared straight. He glanced back and saw that Agnès was undoing the rope that had bounded up Tiff, then looked back down at Beatrice.

"Listen, let this be a lesson to you, kid. You got off easy, I want you to leave Tiffania alone, stop bullying her just because she's an elf, and find some of other guy to stalk. Preferably not someone I know."

"Gordon."

He looked back and saw McPherson with his M9 drawn.

"Need any more backup, lieutenant?"

The Heavy Trooper smiled and shook his head.

"Negative, I got this. Make sure none of those guards are still on the school premise."

He looked back to Beatrice, whose eyes were shimmering with tears. Even though she was a complete psycho bitch, Gordon couldn't help but feel sorry for the Guldenhorf princess, watching her whole bubble get burst and her bodyguards get curb-stomped. Before he could say anything, the girl stood up and ran off crying. He looked back to see Alex walking up with his M99 in a sling.

"Well, let's hope that doesn't come back and bite us in the butt."

Gordon grinned.

"Roger that. I guess Crosby was right, that girl was bad news."

McPherson looked around.

"Speaking of Crosby, where is he? I thought that operation wasn't supposed to be an overnight one."

The Heavy Trooper shook his head.

"No idea. I haven't been able to raise him on the horn all day today."

As if by magic, Gordon's radio crackled to life.

_"__Ah, Heavy Four, this is Bravo Zero. Be advised we are crossing the Gallian border and are inbound to the Academy."_

Gordon looked over to McPherson and smiled.

"Good to hear your voice, Saito. What the hell happened to you guys?"

There was a long pause, and then it was Crosby's voice on the radio.

_"Ah, sir, this is Iceman, there were some…complications that ensued, obstacles that had to be overcome. For one thing we picked up an new passenger. Someone that's a familiar face."_

Gordon nodded.

"Roger that, but what sort of complications?"

There was another long pause, and Crosby's voice seemed hesitant.

_Well, sir, shit got a bit heavy there in Gallia and, well..."_

The lieutenant shook his head.

"Look, sergeant, could you spare me the Russian novel version and give me the Cliff notes version? What the hell happened down there?"

There was another pause, then Crosby spoke again.

_"Well, sir, I don't know how to sugarcoat this, but we might be at war with Gallia now."_

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUUUN! Another plot twist, what the hell went down in Gallia that had Bravo Zero delayed, and what act of war transpired? Well, stay tuned and find out!)_


	105. A Spanner in the Works

_(AN: Well, we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves, but I figured I'd introduce a new character. Sort of a 'replacement', if you will, of Tebby. How we got to this point will be told in a flashback next chapter, or else in dialog. The reason it's not a standalone chapter is that it was just too short and nothing else to pad it with. And I wanted to get to the cool stuff :) _

Sgt. Forbes was alone. Separated from his squad, he had heard the crazy maniacs who destroyed the water supply devastate the remnants of the Damned 33rd. Now his only hope for survival was to stay put and put out a distress call to warn the others when the danger passed. He shook his head, this was absolute insanity. Less than 48 hours ago things were starting to look up for Dubai. The storms were lessening to the point where they could set up the emergency beacon, morale was at an all-time high with both civilian and soldiers alike because rumor had it that a search and rescue party was on its way.

Then the three man group led by Captain Walker showed up, and all hell broke loose. Despite overwhelming odds, no matter what the Damned 33rd threw at them, Delta Squad always was able to survive and deal another stinging defeat. Maybe Martinez was right. Maybe this Walker was un-killable. Forbes' thoughts were interrupted by the loud report of a shotgun blasting the door to the office which was his hiding place. Immediately two men burst in, both bloodied and wild-eyed. One of them brandished an M1014 and snarled at him.

"Drop your fucking weapon!"

Forbes dropped his silenced M4.

The other one, a sniper wearing a ballcap, jabbed his rifle in the soldier's face.

"Do it, now!"

The sergeant raised his hands.

"Okay, okay, don't shoot! I surrender."

Both the shotgunner and the sniper dragged Forbes out of the office and threw him to the floor that was the second floor of the ruined Dubai Mall. Still with his hands in the air, Forbes looked up and saw a man with a shaved head approach him. One entire side of his face was burned, and his icy cold glare shook Forbes to his core. This was Captain Walker, the man who singlehandedly caused more carnage in Dubai than the Insurgents, the CIA and the storms put together. Walker spoke in a flat, emotionless voice.

"What the hell is this?"

The sniper, who must be Sgt. John Lugo, replied in a rasping voice.

"Someone who doesn't want to play soldier anymore."

Walker nodded and glared at Forbes.

"What's your name?"

The soldier replied automatically.

"Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes, service number eight, six, seven, five, three, oh-"

He was stopped by Walker, who drew an M9 and pointed it right at Forbes' nose.

"You are not a prisoner of war…"

Walker knelt down to be at eye level with Forbes. His bloodshot eyes displayed no emotion. This guy was insane, thought Forbes, as he stared down the barrel of the gun Walker had trained on him.

"…As far as I'm concerned you're not even a fucking soldier."

Panic crept into the sergeant's gut.

"Y-you can't…"

He stopped when he felt the cold metal of the gunbarrel pressed against his jaw. Walker continued.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

The pressure on his jaw slackened slightly, and Walker spoke again, in a voice that wasn't so crazy.

"Now, the asshole on the radio, where is he broadcasting from?"

Forbes almost rolled his eyes at the implication. Even Walker couldn't take out the Radioman.

"Don't bother, he's guarded. You'll never reach him."

Walker shrugged, and his voice assumed a flat, emotionless tone again.

"Our problem, not yours."

Forbes pointed to downtown Dubai's skyline.

"There, the top of the Trans-Emirates Building."

Walker stood up, and lowered his handgun. Forbes relaxed slightly and looked over his shoulder. Only to tense up and put his hands up again when the heavy gunner Lt. Adams pointed his SAW in Forbes' face. He heard Walker speak up.

"Lugo, if we reach that tower you think you can work the broadcast system?"

The sniper responded.

"One mass evacuation coming up…"

Forbes couldn't believe what he was hearing. It wasn't just Captain Walker that was delusional, all three of them must have flipped their lid. He shook his head.

"There won't be anyone to evacuate."

Walker spun around and glared at him.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Forbes sighed.

"Be smart, Captain. This is the desert, how long do you think these people will survive without water?"

The implied accusation must have stung Walker, because he didn't respond. Forbes shook his head and continued.

"Jeezus, all the Colonel wanted was to keep people alive."

He looked back up at Walker.

"Remember that."

Walker glared down at him, and whipped his gun around.

"We'll keep that in mind next time he tries to kill us!"

The slide caught Forbes squarely on the bridge of the nose, as he collapsed to the floor he vaguely heard Walker's words.

"Dubai's running out of time, gentlemen. Let's move."

* * *

><p>It was dusk when Sgt. Forbes finally regained consciousness. He slowly and painfully pulled himself to his feet. He could feel something wet and sticky on his lips and chin, then he touched his nose and instantly regretted it. Pain shot through his face and caused spots to appear in his vision. His nose was broken. Then a light caught the sergeant's eye, and he glanced up. The Trans-Emirates tower was a flaming wreckage, leaning precariously to the point of collapse.<p>

Forbes shook his head. No, it couldn't be possible. There was no way they had gotten to the Radioman. That tower was a fortress. Then he heard a voice, a soft feminine voice behind him.

**_"_****_Do not weep for your companions; their fate was sealed the moment Walker set foot in this desolate place."_**

Forbes looked over his shoulder and thought that Walker had clobbered him harder than he thought. He must be hallucinating, in the distance on the second floor promenade he could see a beautiful young woman walking towards him. As she got closer he could see that she was wearing a thin dress that swished in the evening breeze, and her hair was tousled by the wind. She was also barefoot.

As she stepped into what little light was left the sergeant knew he was hallucinating, because in the light the woman's long wavy hair looked to be a bright emerald green. Forbes watched as the she paused, and knelt down to scoop up a handful of sand.

**_"_****_Their patterns, like those of Martin Walker, are running short."_**

He watched as the sand slipped through the lady's slender fingers, the allegory wasn't lost on him. Then something in the sergeant's mind clicked.

B-but wait, if Walker has destroyed the Radioman's tower, it means his next move will be…"

Forbes looked over to the Burj Khalifa tower in the distance.

"Walker will reach the Bridge! I have to warn the others!"

He fumbled for his radio, only to have a delicate hand placed on his wrist stopping him. He looked back up at the lady, who had reached up with her free hand and wiped away a tear Forbes didn't remember shedding.

**_"_****_There is nothing you or your companions can do to stop Walker."_**

She turned and looked up at the burning tower.

**_"_****_Captain Martin Walker believes he is the hero of this Tapestry, and he will stop at nothing to reinforce that. The pattern of his thread will only end when he realizes that he is not. And that will only come at the very end."_**

She turned back to gaze at Forbes.

**_"_****_This Tapestry will only end in more misery, such is the pattern that has been prewoven into it."_**

She reached out and stroked his scarred cheek, and the tip of her finger touched his ruined nose. Oddly enough, the pain subsided. He saw her looking at him with a mix of pity and sadness. Her large eyes were a bright green, like her hair.

**_"_****_The pattern of your thread has also almost run its course within this Tapestry, Joshua Forbes, which is why I am here."_**

A foreboding thought entered Forbes' mind.

"Are you Death? Come to take me away?"

The lady smiled and took a step back.

**_"_****_Be not afraid, Joshua. I come not as a thief to steal, but as one to bring release you from a tormented existence."_**

She held outstretched her arm and offered her hand to him.

**_"_****_Come with me, and I will show you, and bring relief to your torment."_**

Hesitatingly, the sergeant reached out with his free hand, and took her hand. As her fingers enclosed around his much larger hand, Forbes remarked to himself on how delicate and slender her hand was, although there was still was some strength behind it. With her free hand the lady snapped her fingers, and in a blinding flash the ruins of Dubai were gone.

When his eyes readjusted, Sgt. Forbes saw that he was in some sort of brightly lit forest.

It was surreal, everything around him, the grass under his feet, the trees off to his side, even the babbling brook seemed vivid in its colors, as if it were some sort of artist's rendering of a forest instead of a real forest. He looked back at the stream, the water reminded Forbes that he hadn't had any water since the raid on the Water Coliseum.

Quickly he ran to the stream's bank and knelt down. He removed his shooting glove and took a handful of water to his lips. The water felt cool against his scratchy throat, and it had a slightly sweet taste to it. He took more handfuls of water to drink, almost leaning into the water to lap it up, so cool and refreshing. He paused for a moment to see his reflection in the water, and then saw green hair in the reflection. He looked up and saw the lady was standing there, holding some sort of ornate silver pitcher. She giggled lightly and held it up.

**_"I was going to offer you some refreshment, but you appear to have already found some."_**

Forbes smiled apologetically.

"Ah, yeah sorry about that ma'am, it's just been a while since I've seen that much water."

She smiled and shook her head, her green tresses swishing.

**_"_****_There is nothing to apologize for, so there is nothing needed to forgive."_**

She gestured to a shaded spot where there was an embroidered cloth was spread over the grass, with more silver dishes set on it. He watched as the lady walked over to the cloth and sat down with her feet tucked under her. She patted an empty spot.

**_"_****_Please, come join me, Joshua."_**

He sat down next to the lady and accepted a small wooden bowl from her. He took a drink, it tasted like the juice from a freshly canned peach; light, sweet and refreshing. After he drained the bowl Forbes looked up and saw the green-haired lady looking at him, her large green eyes seemingly boring into his soul.

In an instant all the memories of Dubai came back to the forefront of his mind. The despair and defeat he felt at the botched evacuation, the anger at the treachery of Konrad's command staff during the mutiny. He remembered vividly those bloody days when the 33rd committed fratricide against the Exiles. Through all those memories, a face kept reappearing like a recurring theme throughout, and names listed off like a casualty list. He felt the crushing shame and guilt over having to kill a close friend who was an Exile attacking his outpost. Forbes closed his eyes, then he felt a soft hand touch his cheek, and wipe away a tear from his face.

**_"_****_You must let go of the pain you feel, Joshua, lest it poison your soul just as it did Walker."_**

He opened his eyes and saw the lady looking at him. Forbes gestured to the forest around him.

"Is this place Heaven?"

She smiled again, and pushed aside a large platter. When there was a space open she gestured down to the embroidered cloth underneath.

**_"_****_Tell me, Joshua Forbes, what do you see?"_**

The sergetant looked down and saw that the embroidery in the cloth was very intricate, he could make out castles, forests, even people woven into it. Then, to his surprise, he noticed that they were moving. He looked back up to the Lady, who was smiling at him.

**_"_****_This is a Tapestry; a living entity just as the world you came from was a Tapestry. As Mistress of this realm I can weave your thread into this Tapestry; there, unlike that sand-ridden hellhole, you can be change things for the better."_**

Forbes thought he saw a couple of people that looked like they were wearing modern uniforms and helmets, he looked back up to the lady, who smiled again.

**_"Yes, you will not be alone in this quest, for several of your companions will accompany you on this journey."_**

She leaned in so her radiant face was mere inches apart from his.

**_"If you consent to do this_****_, then you shall not have to face your demons alone, and you will receive absolution and your heart's desire. Will you do this?" _**

The sergeant was so mesmerized by her green eyes that he nodded without hesitation. The lady leaned in and kissed his forehead, and in an instant the forest vanished.

* * *

><p>Sgt. Forbes found himself on the ground. It was dark, and he appeared to be in some sort of field. He checked himself over, and found that he was still in his ACU's and had his M4 and sidearm with him. As he became aware of his surroundings he noticed that his radio was off. He switched it on, and immediately he heard a voice through the static.<p>

_"__To the unknown contact with the U.S. Army IFF, this is Bravo Zero how copy?"  
><em>

It was dark, but Forbes could hear the sound of an aircraft engine droning above him. He looked up, and could make out the vague shape of a helicopter with its strobe lights winking on and off. He keyed the mic on his radio.

"Contact, this is Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes, Callsign Charlie One-One, I authenticate IFF ID is Romeo Foxtrot, Juliet Foxtrot, Six, Seven, Zero, how copy?"

The voice spoke up on his radio.

_"__You're also with the Damned 33__rd__?"_

Something seemed odd about the voice. It had an accent, and it sounded very young. Whoever was driving that `Bird must have been a junior warrant officer or the like.

"Ah, that's an affirmative, who are you and where the hell are we?"

The craft descended towards him, and as it got closer he could make out its details. It was an Army Black Hawk, and as he approached it he noticed that it was not only an Army bird, but it was one of the Damned 33rd's. As the Black Hawk set down he heard the pilot's voice again.

_"__No time to explain, sarge. Some of our own are in some deep shit and we need to rescue them. Hop on in."  
><em>

The sergeant shrugged, and made his way over to the chopper and opened the door. After he hopped in and pulled the cargo door shut Forbes looked towards the cockpit. The pilot turned around and spoke.

"Hope you got your gear with you because we're going to need it."

Then Sgt. Forbes got another shock. The pilot was just a kid, a teenager with large eyes wearing a light blue and silver windbreaker. The teen chuckled.

"Look, sarge I know this is a lot to take in but I promise as soon as we finish this I'll let Crosby-san explain everything."

That caught Forbes' attention.

"Wait, Sergeant Crosby is here?"

_(AN: And there you have it. One more member of the Damned 33rd to round things out. The next chapter, which will be told in flashbacks and show what happened to Crosby and Lugo should be up in a couple of days. Until then!)_


	106. FISHDO

_(AN: So here we go, Sgt. Forbes is going to get a crash course the magical world of familiars and bratty teens as they rush to rescue Crosby and co from the evil King Jozef.)_

Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes shook his head. First there was this teenager, a kid, flying a military helicopter in what obviously wasn't Dubai. Then the kid was telling him that they were on their way to a rescue operation.

"…what do you mean Crosby was captured?"

The teenager named Saito shrugged.

_"It's a long story sarge."_

The kid glanced down.

_"Although if I'd known we were going into a warzone I would have worn my ACU's."_

Forbes raised an eyebrow.

"Say what?"

The kid turned around and beamed at the sergeant.

_"Oh, that's right, I didn't tell you. I'm a member of the Damned 33rd!"_

The sergeant thought the kid sounded way too proud to be part of a disgraced battalion.

"Aren't you a little young to be a soldier, kid?"

Saito huffed.

_"Well, it's not important. We need to rescue Crosby-san, it's a long story but I'll try and give you the Cliff Notes version, it all started last night, after we got back from Lagdorian Lake with the cure for Tabitha's mother…"_

* * *

><p><strong>(Two hours earlier, at the Orléans Estate)<strong>

Tabitha woke up suddenly, and for a moment thought she was still at the Academy. For one thing, her friend Kirche Zerbst was with her, and it took her minute to remember that her friend from Germania had accompanied her home. The blue-haired girl lifted her head out of her friend's lap and glanced about. They were in the formal guest parlor, and there were still a few glowing embers in the fireplace. On the long couch opposite her the Outworlder known as John Lugo was dozing. Tabitha heard the mantle clock chime quarter past midnight, then she heard the thing that had woken her up. Very faintly she heard the chopping sound of blades cutting through air, one that heralded the arrival of the Outworlder's airship. It also meant that Sir Crosby would be coming with a possible cure for her mother. The door opened, and the head butler came in holding a candelabra and wearing a dressing gown.

"Lady Charlotte, the Outworlder's airship approaches."

Tabitha/Charlotte nodded, and looked up at Kirche, who was still sound asleep and snoring. She gently poked her friend, who woke up with a start. Lugo also sat up, stretching and reaching for his weapon. He looked over to Tabitha.

"Looks like Bravo Zero's back. C'mon, let's go meet `em."

* * *

><p>Crosby unfastened his safety harness and looked over to Saito.<p>

"Don't power the `Bird all the way down, Specialist. As soon as we've delivered the package I want us back in the air and en route to friendly territory."

The teen nodded.

"Roger that, sarge."

The sergeant opened the co-pilot's door and walked around to the back, sliding open the rear door. The blonde Montmorency hopped out and followed Crosby to a safe distance away from the spinning blades. Saito had set the Black Hawk down on the lawn of Orleans estate, so they didn't have to far to walk to get to the mansion. As he walked the Zulu Squad sergeant reached into his pocket and held up the potion bottle given to him by the Water Spirit.

"Let's hope this stuff works."

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later and Tabitha still hadn't emerged from her mother's room. The silence in the parlor was making Crosby nervous, and the minutes and seconds crawled by at a glacial pace. He reached over and turned on his radio.<p>

"Bravo Zero, anything to report?"

He heard Saito's voice come through the static.

_"Negative, sarge. No movement out here, you want me to power down the `Bird?"_

Crosby shook his head.

"Negative, we're giving Tabitha a few more minutes then we leave without her. She can always summon her familiar to give her a lift back to the Academy."

_"Roger that, sarge. Be advised Sgt. Lugo is on his way back to the mansion."_

The older soldier heard a door creak open and looked up. There in the doorway stood Tabitha, who had an uncharacteristic small smile on her face as she adjusted her glasses.

"Mother is resting."

Crosby glanced over to the redhead Kirche, who was also waiting in the parlor for news.

"Is she…is she alright?"

Tabitha smile grew slightly, and she nodded.

"She recognized me; Mother said that she felt like she had just woken up from a terrible nightmare."

Then, before the Zulu Squad sergeant could react, the blue haired girl did something even more uncharacteristic. She abruptly rushed Crosby and hugged his midsection, burying her face in his assault vest. It took him a moment to realize that she was crying, and he didn't know how to react. Then Tabitha looked up at Crosby, and he saw that although she was crying, she was also smiling in the process.

"Thank you."

The moment was interrupted by Crosby's radio crackling to life.

_"Iceman, Iceman this is Bravo Zero, there are heavily armed knights inbound to the estate, I say again there are multiple possibly hostile contacts are inbound!"_

A cold knot stabbed Crosby's gut, and he keyed his mic.

"Understood, Bravo Zero. Have they noticed your location?"

_"Negative, they seem to be converging on the mansion. Orders?"_

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked over to Kirche and then back down at Tabitha.

"Get in the air and prepare for a hot pickup, await further instructions as the sitch unfolds."

_"Roger that, Iceman. Bravo Zero out."_

Crosby looked back down at Tabitha.

"What's the quickest way to the roof?"

Tabitha pointed out the door.

"Servant's quarters has a back staircase that leads to the garret."

The sergeant nodded.

"Okay."

He unslung his P90 and glanced over to Kirche and Montmorency.

"All of you get behind me, things could get dicey out there."

He spoke into his radio.

"Delta Three, what is your position?"

There was nothing but static. He keyed his mic.

"Delta Three, do you copy?"

Still static. Crosby cursed.

He glanced back to Kirche and Tabitha.

"Alright, I'm going to open that door, I need both of you to make as little noise as possible, is that understood?"

The three girls nodded once, and Crosby carefully opened the door. The darkened hallway was empty, so he gingerly made his way across. After securing both ends of the hall he beckoned for Tabitha to come closer.

"Which way to the servant's quarters?" He whispered.

Tabitha pointed ahead.

"There, through the main hall."

Crosby nodded and slowly crept towards the double doors that lead to the main hall. Light bled through the gap under the door, and he leaned forward to peer through the keyhole, then he shook his head.

"Shit."

The Zulu Squad sergeant took a step back, and with one foot kicked both doors open, leveling his submachine gun.

"Freeze! Put your weapons down!"

There in the main hallway were three musketeers, wearing livery that consisted of two crossed staves holding up a crown. Two of them were holding Lugo at bay with the third holding a long rapier at the sniper's throat. All three of them froze at the sight of the black-armored soldier standing before them.

"Drop your fucking weapons, now!"

The third musketeer slowly lowered his rapier and faced Crosby.

"I assume you are a mercenary in the employ of the Duchess of Orléans?"

When Crosby didn't respond the musketeer gestured with his rapier at Lugo.

"What is your relation, if any to this man?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant kept his P90 trained, and a red dot appeared on the musketeer's breastplate.

"What's it to you?"

The musketeer looked down with consternation on the red dot and then back at Crosby.

"T-this Outworlder is a criminal, we are arresting him for the crimes of murdering Count Mott and his household!"

Crosby took another step forward.

"The Hell you are."

Lugo spoke up.

"Look, sarge! We're outnumbered! Don't get in the middle of this, this is my screw-up!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant ignored Lugo's protests and glared at the third Gallian musketeer.

"Here's what's going to happen, bub. You're going to drop your weapons, all of you, and you're going to leave this residence with your lives. If you don't, you will all die. It's as simple as that."

The musketeer paused, then without warning he lunged at Crosby. Too slow, because with a deafening crack he pitched backwards. Crosby switched to the other target, as Lugo took advantage of the distraction to attack the musketeer closest to him. Two more mercenaries burst through the front door, and before long it was an all-out melee. Then a voice called out.

"Halt!"

Crosby threw the punch he had prepared and glanced back. There was a taller man sporting a chin beard and wearing an ornate ermine cape standing in the doorway. It took a few minutes for the older soldier to process that the newcomer had blue hair, just like Tabitha. That didn't catch Crosby's attention as much as the three hostages his bodyguards were holding.

"You are outnumbered, Outworlder. Surrender or the two ladies will suffer for your insolence."

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked back, sure enough Montmorency, Kirche and Tabitha were held at knifepoint by the Gallian noble's bodyguards. The blonde girl huffed indignantly.

"I am a Montmorency, I demand that you release me!"

The man ignored her, and faced Crosby.

"Well, what will it be, Outworlder?"

After a long moment Crosby lowered his P90. The noble nodded to the four musketeers still standing.

"Take both the Outworlders into custody."

He glanced over his shoulder and spoke to his bodyguards.

"Release them."

They released Kirche and Montmorency, but Tabitha was still held at knifepoint. The man smiled wickedly at her.

"So, little Charlotte, we finally meet."

He glanced at his bodyguards.

"Take her into custody as well."

Crosby glared at the noble.

"Why her?"

The noble smiled wickedly.

"I have my own reasons, Outworlder. I have to finish someone else's dirty work. You two are just the distraction I needed."

The older soldier lunged for the noble.

"You filthy son of a bitch! If you lay hand on her I'll kill you!"

One of the musketeers clubbed Crosby to the ground with the pommel of his sword.

"Guard your tongue when you address his Royal Highness King Jozef, Outworlder scum!"

* * *

><p><strong>(meanwhile, outside on the grounds of the Orléans estate)<strong>

"…Repeating, Iceman or Delta Three this is Bravo Zero do you copy?"

Nothing but static greeted Saito. He glanced back out at the mansion. Nobody had come in or out of the estate since the knights had entered. Then again, he couldn't see the front entrance, so maybe Crosby and Lugo had escaped that way. His thoughts were interrupted by someone rapping on the glass of his cockpit door, causing the Tokyo teen to almost jump out of his skin. It was Kirche, and she had a panicked look on her face. When Saito opened the door to speak to her, she was babbling over the din of the helicopter engines.

"…They took them! They took Sir Crosby and Tabitha! And Mr. Lugo as well!"

Saito grabbed the redhead by her shoulders and shook her.

"Slow down! Who took them, and where did they go?!"

The redhead was still babbling incoherently, but Montmorency pushed her aside and spoke to Saito in a controlled if furious voice.

"King Jozef of Gallia, those were his men that ambushed Sir Crosby. They took him and Mr. Lugo, charging them with the death of Count Mott! This is an outrage, as he threatened me, of all people! My father will hear of this, mark my words."

Saito shook his head.

"Did they take anyone else?"

This time Kirche pushed the blonde aside.

"They took Tabitha, I fear he's going to kill her!"

All of this was too much for Saito to process.

"Okay, but where? Where are they taking them?"

Kirche took another shuddering breath.

"I-I think I overheard him instruct his men to take the prisoners to the fortress near Aquileia."

She shook her head.

"What can we do?!"

The Tokyo teen paused for a moment, then turned to the blonde girl.

"Get back to Tristain, by any means that you can. Get word as quickly as possible to Konrad and Henrietta about what happened."

Saito leaned back into his seat and fastened his safety harness. Montmorency stared at him.

"W-what are you doing?"

He shrugged.

"I'm going after them!"

* * *

><p>Sgt. Forbes frowned at the kid flying the Black Hawk.<p>

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you plan was to go after them? By yourself?!"

The teen shrugged.

_"Why not?"_

"What the hell were you thinking, kid? This isn't a videogame!"

Saito spoke into his radio.

_"I wasn't going to just sit by and do nothing."_

The sergeant peered out the side window into the horizon, it was still dark out and Forbes could only make out vague shapes in the distance.

"How do you know that we're headed in the right direction?"

Suddenly someone rustled in the copilot's chair and turned around. Sgt. Forbes' eyes got wide at the sight of a busty girl with tanned skin and bright red head. The sergeant stared dumbfounded at the girl. She was wearing (barely) a tight white blouse and had a black cloak over her shoulders, looking like a Harry Potter extra if said extra moonlighted as a stripper or porn actress. She chuckled and spoke over the din of the chopper's engines. It sounded like French, but Forbes couldn't be sure. Finally Forbes got his voice back and spoke into his radio..

"What the hell is Harry Potter porn actress with the neon red hair saying?"

The girl apparently could understand him and huffed. Saito's voice came through the static of Forbes' headset.

_"That's Kirche, she's my navigator."_

The sergeant shook his head and was about to speak, when a third voice chirped up. It was a blonde girl with freckles and had her hair done up in some sort of Victorian ringlets. He also couldn't understand her.

"You sure you didn't just steal a chopper and go Walter Mitty to pick up chicks, kid?"

Saito shook his head.

_"Like I said, it's complicated, sarge."_

He heard the kid pause for a moment.

_"And there's a lot more for me to tell you, but it looks like we're approaching the target, so that will have to wait."_

Forbes squinted in the darkness and he saw a light. It was some sort of bonefire, and it cast light onto a large stone structure that looked like a medieval castle. Then Forbes glanced up at the sky and froze. There were two moons. He spoke into his radio.

"Kid, there's two moons in the sky."

He saw Satio shrug again.

_"Yeah, that's Helkeginia for you. I told you we were in another world."_

Sgt. Forbes shook his head and glanced out the window again at the castle. He counted four towers and turrets, and he could make out no less than a dozen men patrolling the wall-walks of the castle. The place was a fortress.

"You want me to infiltrate that?"

He saw Saito glance over at the redhead. Apparently her and the blonde girl were trying to share the copilot's seat and were squabbling about something. The kid chuckle again.

_"Not to worry, sarge. You will have a diversion."_

* * *

><p>Sgt. Forbes poked his head out of the patch of overgrown shrubbery to peer through his NVGs. The entire area was splashed in bright night vision green as he stared at the entrance the three figures conversing. He raised his radio and spoke.<p>

"This isn't going to work, kid."

He could vaguely hear the distant drone of engines and blades chopping through the air as Saito's voice came through on the radio.

_"It'll work, Sgt. Forbes. There's nobody that can resist Kirche Zerbst's charms."_

The sergeant shook his head.

"That honey trap shit doesn't even work in movies, what makes you think it'll work here?"

He heard the kid chuckle again.

_"Well, there was this one time that she once got a golden sword that would have cost 3,000 gold pieces for a mere 500 just by showing some cleavage. And if that doesn't work then MonMon will bluff her way past the guards."_

At that the blonde girl to Forbes' right huffed and said something in that bizarre quasi-French language. He wasn't sure, but it sounded like the girl could understand Saito and wasn't happy with what he called her.

Forbes looked through his goggles again. Sure enough, the redhead was standing at the side entrance going on a long winded monologue with two soldiers in leather and mail armor all the while simultaneously leaning forward. Both the guards had a glazed look on their faces as they ogled, until to Forbes' shock both had high-pressure nosebleeds at the same time, and collapsed. The busty redhead poked each of them with her foot, then waved the sergeant over.

Sgt. Forbes lowered his NVGs and unslung his M4, quickly screwing a silencer onto the muzzle. He glanced back at the blonde girl, and made a gesture for her to stay put. Thankfully she understood, and nodded once. Forbes gingerly pulled himself out of cover, checking for any more guards, and made his way to the entrance. With his gloved hand tested the handle to the door. The knob turned, and the door opened a sliver, just enough for the sergeant to peer inside. The courtyard was dark, and a quick scan with his night vision showed no warm bodies about. He looked over his shoulder and was greeted by the sight of the redhead's ample cleavage.

"Hey, watch where you point those things!"

Forbes ignored the salacious chortle of the girl and spoke into his radio.

"Alright kid, I'm in. Keep an eye out for me and maintain radio contact."

He glanced over to the redhead.

"Better get back there with your friend, this is no place for a girl."

The girl looked miffed and puffed out her already impressive bust. Whatever she was saying it was clear she wanted to come in with him. Forbes shook his head.

"I told you I don't understand you, but you're not going in there. I operate better alone."

He pointed back to the bushes where the blonde was still hiding.

"Now go back there with your friend and sit tight."

The redhead sighed, but complied. The Damned 33rd soldier watched her leave and shook his head again.

"This place is nuts."

* * *

><p><strong>(10 minutes later, inside the castle)<strong>

Sgt. Forbes fumbled with the key ring, trying not to let them jingle too much. As far as he could reckon, he was two levels down and in some sort of dungeon, so he couldn't be too far off. So far he only had to incapacitate three guards, all of whom he ambushed before they could sound the alarm. He wouldn't have much time before they woke up, so the clock was ticking.

Finally one of the keys turned the lock on the barred door and it swung open on creaky hinges. Forbes switched the rail-mounted light on his M4 and carefully crept down the stairs with his weapon on the ready. At the bottom of the stairs there was a long corridor dimly lit by flickering torches mounted in the walls. A quick sweep with his light indicated that there were heavy iron doors with a small latticed at eye level lined the walls, with a rough wooden table at an alcove closest to the stairwell.

When Forbes shone a light on the contents of the table he figured he was in the right place. He saw modern weapons and a couple of radios strewn about on the table in an untidy heap, one of which he recognized as an FN P90. The sergeant knew that the Zulu Squad soldiers favored those submachine guns, so he must be in the right place. Forbes crept past the table to the first door on the left and checked inside. He could see a young girl wearing glasses sleeping on a straw mattress. The sergeant remembered Saito telling him that one of the hostages was a young girl named Tabitha, so he whispered the name.

* * *

><p>Charlotte Hélène d'Orléans, or Tabitha to her friends, had finally fallen asleep when she thought she heard her name being called. It couldn't be, because the voice was calling her by Tabitha, whereas her captors referred to her as Charlotte. Slowly she opened her eyes and reached for her glasses. She looked up and saw a face at the door. She couldn't see who it was, but she heard the person call her name again, and she nodded. There was a jangle of keys, followed by the sound of the lock tumbler being turned, and the door swung open. Dim light framed the stranger, then as Tabitha's eyes adjusted to the light she could see him properly. He was a taller man with a shaved head and a deep scar on the side of his face. Tabitha didn't recognize him, but after glancing at his clothes she realized he was wearing the same mossy-green clothes as Sir Crosby's companions. The man spoke in a language she didn't understand, but his beckoning gesture was clear enough. She stood up and followed.<p>

The sergeant watched as the girl spoke in something that sounded like French, but he couldn't be sure. He got another shock as the girl sat up and followed his lead out of the cell, the girl had blue hair! She was short, shorter and slighter than the redhead, her hair was also short and bright sky blue. She was regarding him with eyes the same color as her hair, eyes that were unnaturally large. Not for the first or last time Forbes wondered what sort of weird world this was. He gestured for the girl named Tabitha to follow.

He walked up to the second cell door and peered in. There was a man lying on a cot wearing the familiar black and white uniform that was the 33rd's elite Zulu Squad.

"Crosby? Sergeant, is that you?"

The man sat up immediately.

"Who's there?"

"It's Forbes, Sgt. Josh Forbes!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant walked up to the grate.

"Forbes? How long have you been here?"

The sergeant on the other side turned the key and unlocked the door.

"About fifteen minutes, sarge. Some kid flying a Black Hawk picked me up."

The door opened, and sure enough it was Sgt. Crosby, the leader of Zulu Squad.

"That would have been Saito."

He shook his head.

"Did he tell you what happened?"

Forbes shrugged.

"He said that you were captured and was off to rescue you when he picked me up."

Crosby frowned.

"Did he neglect to tell you that I ordered him to take Kirche and Montmorency back to friendly territory and try to resolve this through diplomatic means?"

The other sergeant chuckled.

"Nope, but if you want to go back into your cell I'm sure that can be arranged."

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked back and shook his head.

"That's a negative."

Crosby glanced about and saw Tabitha, who gave a shy wave.

"You alright?"

She nodded once. Crosby looked back to the other soldier.

"I don't suppose you saw where they stashed our weapons?"

Sgt. Forbes jerked a thumb over to the table on the far wall.

"Over there."

The older soldier nodded and made his way over there as Forbes went to the third cell. Crosby checked over his P90 and Desert Eagle, neither one seemed tampered with or fired, so that at least was a good thing. Suddenly he heard a shout that jerked his head over towards the cells.

"You fucker! Who's playing soldier now?!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant lowered his head.

"Well, shit."

When he stepped into Lugo's cell Crosby found the two soldiers scuffling on the floor. Lugo already had a bloody nose and had just landed a punch on Forbes' ear.

"If you two girls will stop fighting for a moment, we have bigger problems at hand."

Lugo pushed Forbes off and pulled himself to his feet.

"Tell it to this asshole, fucker cold-cocked me in my sleep."

Crosby raised an eyebrow at the other sergeant.

"You two have some history in Dubai?"

Forbes accepted Crosby's hand to pull himself up with and spat a bloody phlegm on the stone floor.

"Yeah, him and those two crazy maniacs killed my squad buddies, and then beat the shit out of me after I surrendered."

Crosby glanced over to Lugo, and to his surprise there was no snappy comeback. The Delta sniper looked ashamed. He turned back to Forbes.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, we're not in Dubai anymore. Where we are is in a big heaping pile of shit if we don't work together."

He handed Lugo his Scout Tactical and an M9.

"When we're back in friendly territory you two can beat each other up to your heart's content, but for now I need you both off each other's throats and working together, can you do that?"

Lugo holstered his M9 and nodded.

"Roger that."

Crosby glanced back at Forbes, who was glaring at Lugo. Finally the sergeant broke eye contact and responded.

"Roger that, sarge."

Then the three of them heard a scream of terror, Lugo was the first to rush out of the cell. Two guards were pulling Tabitha away, and she struggled in their grip. Without hesitation Forbes raised his M4 and fired. Both guards crumpled to the ground with red circles on their foreheads. Tabitha rushed over to the three soldiers, crying. A third guard appeared in the doorway, and Lugo raised his M9 and fired.

"Haven't you heard of being quiet?"

He gestured to Lugo's pistol.

"That noise is going to bring every guard in this castle here."

As if to punctuate what Forbes said the sound of metal boots clanking against stone echoed through the hallway, and more guards were coming down the stairwell. The Zulu Squad sergeant tried to shush Tabitha, then glared at Lugo.

"The alarm has been sounded, so I hope you has a brilliant plan to escape that doesn't involved the staircase."

Lugo shrugged.

"Well, I have an idea, but it involves baking a file into a cake and smuggling it into dungeon."

He paused to fire his M9 at another guard that appeared in the doorway.

"Although given the short timeframe I don't think I'll have enough time to bake a cake."

Forbes lowered his M4 and slung it over his shoulder.

"Sarge, I think I have a solution."

He reached behind him and pulled out a long rectangular tube that was bright green. He looked back at Crosby and Lugo.

"Buy me about five minutes, guys and we'll have our exit."

Crosby nodded and pulled out his radio.

"Bravo Zero, this is Iceman, do you copy?"

The teen's voice sounded very excited through the static.

_"Crosby-san! You're alright!"_

The Zulu Squad sergeant grinned and shook his head.

"That might be a stretch. Where are you at now?"

_"I've picked up Kirche and MonMon, and I am maintaining a safe distance from the castle, are you in need of extraction?"_

"Not yet. I need you to get in close and circle the castle, we're going to need a hot pickup as soon as we have an exit."

"Roger that, which door are you leaving from?"

Crosby chuckled.

"We're making our own door, kid, just keep your peepers peeled for an explosion."

The Zulu Squad sergeant paused and raised his P90, firing a burst at another group of Gallian soldiers. Then he heard Forbes yelling as he ran out of Lugo's cell.

"Fire In the hole!"

_(AN: Aaaand I'm ending it on another cliff-hanger. Now you know why Forbes was brought to Helkeginia. Of course since he's not fluent in French (like Lugo) or had a translation spell cast on him like the others, he's not going to understand the inhabitants. Bonus points to anyone who knows what Forbes was during the Mutiny (i.e. the multiplayer part of SO:TL), in any case he's putting the skills he used during the Mutiny to good use. Next chapter should be up by the weekend. Hope you enjoyed!)_


	107. FNG Orientation

_(AN: So here's the follow up chapter, hopefully Forbes and Lugo can learn to play nicely. Also in re-reading some of the earlier chapters I've decided to do some minor tweaking. Specifically I've tweaked the 'Adapt and Overcome' chapter to make Crosby a bit more realistic in his first day in Tristain. And I've re-tweaked this chapter so as to include the battle sequence. Let me know what you guys think.)_

"Fire In the Hole!"

Crosby put his hands over Tabitha's ears.

"Everyone take cover!"

There was a deafening explosion as dust and smoke filled the chamber. Crosby pulled his balaclava over his face and shouted to Forbes.

"I'm getting the civvie out, cover my six!"

Forbes nodded, and both he and Lugo took up positions on either side of the hallway, firing at any guard that appeared in the doorway. As Crosby entered the cell he saw there was a hole just barely large enough for two people to squeeze through. He glanced through the hole and saw that it was a short four foot drop down to the ground. He looked up and saw the Black Hawk's anti-collision strobes winking. Crosby spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Zero this is Iceman, do you have eyes on our exit?"

Saito's voice came through the static.

_"__Holy shit that was a big explosion! Roger that I have eyes on you. Be advised there are hostiles on the wall above you, and I think your exit caught their attention."_

Crosby glanced back at Forbes and Lugo.

"Bravo Zero take those guards out, while we out in the open we're sitting ducks."

_"__Roger that. By the way, it appears as if we have company."_

Before Crosby could respond, he heard a familiar voice boom overhead.

_"Well, well, well! Looks like we got a latecomer to the party here in Helkeginia! As the designated radioman of Tristain, allow me to be the first to welcome Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes to this merry little land of large eyed gals with even larger boobs. Well, except for the walking IED, hehe."_

Forbes paused in his firing to glance up.

"Don't tell me the Radioman's here?"

Lugo nodded.

"That's an affirmative. Although I admit at first I had mixed feelings about it."

Their conversation was interrupted by Crosby's voice.

_"Forbes, Lugo! I've gotten Tabitha out!"_

Lugo nodded.

"Roger that, sarge, you want us to fall back?"

_"Negative, we're in cover but taking heavy fire, I've instructed Bravo Zero to eliminate the threats on the wall, sit tight until the way is clear!"_

The Delta sniper spoke into his radio.

"Acknowledged!"

He raised his M9 and fired off several rounds in rapid succession, killing two more knights. He heard Forbes call out.

"Cover me, I'm reloading!"

As Forbes swapped his empty for a fresh mag and slammed it into the receiver of his M4, he noticed something odd.

"Hey, Delta-boy! Go easy on the wild west shooting! This isn't a video game!"

Sgt. Lugo didn't respond but just chuckled as if Forbes had told him a joke.

* * *

><p>Saito jerked the cyclic off to the side.<p>

"Everyone, hang on!"

The Black Hawk banked sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding a cannonball.

"Shit! This feels very familiar..."

He looked back at Montmorency.

"Hey MonMon! I need you to man the minigun!"

The blonde girl huffed.

"I told you, don't call me that!'

She glanced disdainfully at the M134 minigun mounted behind the copilot's seat.

"How do you expect me to fire that?"

Saito rolled his eyes, and as if on cue Derflinger popped up in the multifunction screen.

"It's okay, partner! I'll keep this `Bird afloat while you show her."

The teen nodded and unfastened his safety harness. He then swung a leg over and grabbed the blonde's hands, pulling her towards the two handles on the minigun. Saito then flipped up the safety cover and armed the minigun. He then pointed to the two firing buttons.

"Point the minigun at the wall and fire on those archers, otherwise Crosby-san and Tabitha will be killed!"

* * *

><p>The captain of the guards shouted to one of the grenadiers manning the wall's cannon.<p>

"Reload, quickly! We must destroy that airship!"

Suddenly, the loud voice that had boomed overhead spoke again.

_"Hey Hey Hey! Didn't your mama tell you, it's not nice to shoot cannonballs at people! What you guys need is some nice, classic, relaxing music to sooth your killing instincts...after this important message from our sponsors the Tristainians:"_

The captain watched as Outworlder's airship slowed down and turned left, now hovering above them. In what looked like a loophole on the side of the airship he saw a girl with curly blond hair. It only took the captain of the guard a second to realize that what she was wielding was a cannon. But before he could shout to his men to take cover, the booming disembodied voice continued.

_"EAT LEAD, MOTHERFUCKERS!"_

A loud, fast paced cacophony rang out in the night sky, followed by the frantic singing of some bard.

_"Gonna tell Aunt Mary 'bout Uncle John_  
><em>He claims he has the misery, but he has a lot of fun<em>  
><em>Oh baby,<em>  
><em>Yes baby, <em>  
><em>Wooh baby,<em>  
><em>Havin' me some fun tonight, yeah!"<em>

* * *

><p>The blonde used both of her thumbs and pushed the firing button. Immediately the gun began to spin at an incredibly fast rate, then fire erupted from the barrels, along with a high pitched sound like fabric ripping. A bright white line traced itself up and down the castle's walls.<p>

On the wall archers and guards scrambled back and forth as the stone floor at their feet erupted into shards and clouds of dust. Knights were cut down with holes punched through their armor, archers fell in droves before they could get a shot off at the airship. Saito heard Crosby's voice snarl in his headset.

_"Dammit, Bravo Zero there's still archers taking cover in the first battlement, take them the fuck out!"_

Saito spoke into his radio.

"Roger that, sarge. Taking out the battlement."

Saito looked over to Montmorency.

"Concentrate your fire on that battlement, there's still archers in there!"

The redhead took a step forward and clasped her hands.

"Oh, that looks like fun! Come on MonMon, let me have a turn!"

The blonde shook her head.

"Back off, Kirche! The Zero's familiar tasked me with firing the repeating cannon!"

Crosby heard the music and the minigun firing, and he spoke into his radio.

"Dammit, Bravo Zero! What's the holdup! Lugo and Forbes are still trapped inside, if they leave now they'll still be cut down!"

_"Roger that, sarge, but there's too many of those archers, we'd have to take out the entire tower."_

There was a pause on the radio.

_"Sarge! I've got an idea. Stand by!"_

* * *

><p>Kirche perked up.<p>

"You mean I get to use the Staff of Destruction!"

Saito kept his eyes on the windscreen and yelled back over his shoulder.

"That's an affirmative! It's in the metal box at your feet."

The redhead knelt down and slipped the catch on the box, opening it. Inside was the very Staff of Destruction that Sir Crosby had wrested from the thief Fouquet.

She heard Saito shout over the din of the airship.

"Right, so that thing operates like a musket, you just point, aim and pull the trigger!"

He banked the airship again, and through the open door she could see the tower where countless archers were.

"Aim at that tower so Lugo and Forbes can get out!"

She nodded and raised the weapon, resting its stock against her shoulder, just like Crosby and the other Outworlders fired their weapons.

"And don't forget about ele-"

The weapon discharged with a loud thump, sending grenade towards the target. Kirche, who wasn't even remotely ready for its tremendous recoil, lost her footing and flopped on the floor. The grenade sail through one of the tower's loopholes, and there was a tremendous explosion. It must have been the powder magazine. A fire inside burned out of control. Saito grinned and gave a thumbs up to Kirche, who was still sitting on the floor rubbing her backside.

"Haha! Way to go, Kirche, you did it!"

The a smug look came across the Fire Mage's face and she chuckled, her injury forgotten. Montmorency paused in firing the repeating cannon and looked back.

"Wait! Let me wield the Staff of Destruction!"

Kirche let out another chortle.

"But MonMon dear, you cannot fire this weapon, only one who wields the power of the Flame can!"

Saito ignored the two girls trading barbs when he heard Crosby's voice on the radio.

_"Shit! Who fired that grenade launcher, that shot was one in a million!"_

He grinned.

"It was Kirche, sarge!"

* * *

><p>Lugo fired another burst, then the entire castle shook. He glanced over at Forbes, who shook his head.<p>

"Wasn't me, Delta boy."

Forbes fired another burst, then spoke up.

"Hey, Delta boy, cover me for a half of a minute, would you? I've got an idea!"

The Delta sniper shook his head and fired another three shots with his M9.

"Delta boy? How about some respect, you grunt?"

Forbes shook his head.

"Well, if you want to be a Delta girl, you just have to ask!"

Lugo grinned savagely at the sergeant.

"If I remember correctly, it was Delta who got you out cold back in the desert!"

Crosby's voice cut through the two soldier's banter.

_"I hate to interrupts your lovefest, gentlemen, but Bravo Zero has cleared the way. Unless you want to be permanent guest of Gallia, MOVE OUT!"_

Forbes glanced back at Lugo.

"You go ahead, I'll cover our escape!"

Lugo started to say something, but the sergeant cut him off.

"I'm not playing the hero, Delta boy, I just need to leave a going-away present for these assholes."

The Delta sniper nodded, and ran into the cell. A few more minutes, Forbes thought to himself. He fired his suppressed M4 at two more guards that had rushed the hallway, and joined the six or so corpses that had already tried. Forbes swapped his magazines, then reached into a larger pouch on his assault vest, pulling out a brick of C4, then he paused and a wicked grin came across his face.

* * *

><p>Crosby and Lugo had taken cover behind a rock, there were still a few archers trying to fire their arrows at them, but even they were getting picked off by the minigun. He spoke into his radio.<p>

"Bravo Zero, be ready for a hot pickup! Sgt. Forbes dropped some C4 and we need to be far away when it blows!"

He heard the teen respond.

_"Roger that, sarge. Stand by, Bravo Zero is inbound."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant switched frequencies on his radio.

"Move your ass, Forbes, Bravo Zero is on its way here!"

_"Roger that, Crosby, be advised I've planted enough C-4 to bring this entire wall down!"_

"All the more reason to move your ass!"

Crosby watched as the Black Hawk slowly descended, as it got closer he could see the blonde girl manning the minigun. He shrugged, at least the suppressing fire worked. The older soldier looked back at the hole and saw Forbes hop out and run towards them at full tilt. When the chopper's wheels touched ground, Crosby ran towards the open rear door, pulling Tabitha, Lugo and lastly Forbes in before jumping himself.

"Get us out of here, now!"

As the Black Hawk lifted off, Forbes pulled out his detonator.

"Everybody hang onto your butts, this one's going to be loud!"

He pressed the button, and there was a deafening explosion that buffeted the craft. It also sent Forbes face first into Kirche's cleavage. Crosby leaned over and helped extricate his fellow sergeant.

"Shit the bed, Forbes! How much explosives did you use?"

Forbes' voice came muffled as he was trying to pull himself free.

"Four bricks!"

Apparently the redhead wasn't cooperating, as she was holding his head in place. Finally Crosby intervened.

"That's enough, Kirche, don't suffocate Sergeant Forbes."

She sighed theatrically and released him. Forbes sat up gasping for air.

"Didn't know how many people were chasing us, didn't want to take a chance."

He sat back in his chair.

"Kerrist that was intense! Last time I got that treatment I had to pay some hooker in Amsterdam four hundred Euros."

The sergeant glanced over to the redhead, who winked at him.

"Crosby did I mention this place is nuts?"

* * *

><p>The next morning, King Jozef of Gallia glared at the ruins of his fortress and then directed his glare at one of the survivors.<p>

"There was over fifty knights guarding this fort, and the same number of archers, and you're telling me that the Outworlders escaped?! Right under your nose?"

The survivor quailed under his monarch's glare.

"T-they had help, your Highness. There was an Outworlder in a flying airship, they had powerful weapons!"

The Gallian king shook his head.

"But they were trapped in the dungeon, all other exits were cut off! How did they escape?"

The captain pointed to one outer wall of the castle that was completely demolished.

"One of them used a powerful spell of destruction, and they escaped in the confusion."

He shook his head.

"So powerful was that explosion that it compromised the structural integrity of the battlements above it. The hole collapsed on itself, killing several of my men who tried to give chase."

Their conversation was interrupted by the flapping of leathery wings. Two Gallian dragon riders landed on the field where Jozef and the guard captain were conversing. One of the riders dismounted and genuflected before the king. He was a youthful blonde man with mismatched eyes. After he stood up he spoke in an oddly accented voice.

"My lord, we have scoured the countryside, there is no sign of the Outworlders anywhere."

Jozef nodded.

"And the girl?"

The rider shook his head.

"She is gone as well, your highness."

The king did not respond, but turned to gaze at the destruction the Outworlders wrought on his castle.

"I think, Signore Chesaré, that it is time that we paid a visit to Tristain."

* * *

><p>Sgt. Forbes woke up with a start. It was light out, and he was riding in a helicopter. At first he thought the last night's adventure was a dream, but then he saw the redhead with the impressive rack talking to him in that foreign language. Nope, it wasn't a dream, he thought. The sergeant glanced about the cabin of the Black Hawk helicopter as it flew. Sgt. Crosby was awake, and speaking via headset with someone, probably the pilot. Then he heard an indignant chirp and looked back to see the blonde girl with the hair arranged in ringlets arguing with the busty redhead. He still couldn't understand what they were saying, and truth be told it was getting on his nerves. The Delta sniper Lugo was sitting on the opposite end of the cabin from him still asleep, which suited him just fine. Forbes noticed the Zulu Squad sergeant gesturing to the headset hanging on the bulkhead next to him. He pulled them on and heard Crosby speak.<p>

_"Penny for your thoughts, Forbes."_

He looked at the chopper's battered airframe and shook his head.

"I'm wondering how the hell this chopper is still flying. I mean, if it did come from Dubai then you know we could barely keep our fleet of Little Birds in the air, let alone the two or three Black Hawks airworthy."

He saw Crosby grin.

_"So?"_

"So, this bucket of bolts looks like it's held together with duct tape and baling wire, how can you keep it flying?"

Before the Zulu Squad sergeant could respond something else caught Forbes' eye. One of the multifunction screens in front of the pilot winked off, and in its place was an image of a sword hilt. A sword hilt that, to Sgt. Forbes' shock, started clattering and talking.

"Hey buster, what who yer callin' a bucket of bolts!"

Forbes' eyes widened at the sight, he looked back to Crosby only to see him chuckling.

_"The answer to your question, sergeant, is very simple. Magic."_

The sergeant shook his head and propped his head against the cabin's bulkhead, staring at the window at the sight that greeted them. It was afternoon, and according to Sgt. Crosby said earlier they were back in friendly territory. He could see a tall spire in the distance, which he assumed was part of the school they were going to. He heard the pilot, the teenager, speak up.

_"Hey sarge! If you want a really cool sight, check out at your ten o'clock."_

Forbes glanced out the window again at a field beyond the forest, and the sight that greeted him almost made his eyes bulge out of his sockets. A large gray four-engine aircraft was parked in the field. He could make out a small figure working on one of the wings, and upon further scrutiny Forbes saw that it wasn't just any cargo plane.

"That's an AC-130 Gunship!"

He heard Crosby chuckle again.

_"Yep, so what do you think now about this new world, Forbes?"_

The sergeant shook his head and looked out the window again. When the Zulu Squad sergeant had told Forbes they were going to a school he had pictured it differently than the castle-like structure that loomed large in the window. The keep, or center tower was several stories tall, and surrounding it were several smaller turrets, each connected by a wall and creating a curtain wall that surrounded a courtyard. As the Black Hawk approached one courtyard Forbes could see a large crowd was gathered. The only thing he could make out was that most of them were teenagers wearing black cloaks, like the three girls currently riding in the chopper with them. Finally Forbes spoke into his radio.

"I think this place is sixteen flavors of fucked up, Crosby, and that school looks like Hogwarts on acid-crack."

He heard the Zulu Squad sergeant chuckle.

_"Yeah, that was my impression when I first got here, too. Trust me, the further you go down this rabbit hole, the weirder it gets."_

Forbes glanced out the window again, and could make out two figures standing apart from the student body. They were wearing digital ACU's, although at this distance he couldn't tell who they were. He heard Crosby speak again in his headset.

_"We're getting ready to set this `Bird down, Forbes. Better strap in."_

* * *

><p>Lt.'s McPherson and Gordon watched the Black Hawk come to a hover and slowly descend down onto the courtyard. When the wheels touched the green turf, the passenger door slid open, revealing the familiar form of Lugo, and the three girls who left on the mission.<p>

The blonde girl Montmorency was greeted by her boyfriend, she seemed less enthused than Guiche was at the reunion. The busty redhead and her bookworm friend disembarked next, followed by the newcomer Saito spoke about. McPherson didn't recognize the soldier off the bat, other than he was clearly Damned 33rd. Gordon, on the other hand did.

As Sgt. Forbes got clear of the spinning blades, he was able to get a closer look at the two soldiers standing by the improvised airstrip. He straightened up as he recognized one of them as his old CO. Quickly he stood ramrod straight at attention and saluted crisply.

"Lt. Gordon, Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes reporting for duty, sir!"

His CO grinned and returned the salute.

"At ease, sergeant. In case you hadn't figured it out, we're not in Dubai anymore."

He glanced over to Crosby, how nodded in acknowledgement.

"Well, I'll want to know all the gory particulars, but for now we need to get you situated, Forbes."

Gordon looked down at the sergeant's silenced M4.

"Got any spare mags for that carbine, sarge?"

Forbes nodded and reached into a pouch on his black assault vest. He pulled out an empty and handed it to Gordon. The lieutenant looked it over, then spoke.

"Got a round in the chamber you can spare, Forbes?"

The sergeant shrugged and worked the action on his M4, ejecting a live 5.56mm NATO round. Gordon caught it deftly in midair, and loaded it into the magazine in his hand, then handed it off to the other soldier.

"McPherson will get this back to you this afternoon, sergeant. One of the wizards here has a pretty cool spell for ammo. Sort of like an unlimited ammo cheat in video games."

Forbes stared at Gordon, who just grinned.

"I told you, sarge, we're not in Dubai anymore."

He glanced over at the students.

"When Professor Colbert gets back from working on Spooky I'll have him cast a translation spell on you so you can understand the others."

Forbes was distracted momentarily by a loud squeal that sounded like _kyaaa_. He turned around and saw the origin of the squeal was a short dark-haired girl wearing a maid's outfit, currently holding the Delta sniper Lugo's waist in a death gripe. Forbes heard the other soldier, Lt. McPherson, chuckle behind him.

"Y'might want to close the mouth, sergeant. That's a good way to catch flies."

He glanced back at Gordon.

"Why the hell is Sgt. Lugo being cuddled by a kid? What is he, a cradle-robber?"

He heard McPherson snicker at his comment, and to Forbes' surprise Lt. Gordon flushed a light pink.

"As I said, things are a little more different here. And Siesta is 18, if that matters."

He Beckoned Forbes to follow him.

"C'mon, sarge. There's a lot to process here, and if I try to tell you everything all at once it's going to make your brain overload. Let's get you some chow and I can debrief you on the low-hanging fruit."

Forbes looked back to see the Delta sniper and the maid walking off hand in hand and shook his head.

"This place is nuts."

* * *

><p>Crosby glanced over where Sgt. Forbes was in a discussion with his CO Lt. Gordon. He turned back to Lugo and Siesta.<p>

"I'd still give Forbes some time to process all this, Lugo. The shit that went down in Dubai happened months ago for us, but for him it's still fresh in his memory."

The Delta sniper nodded.

"Roger that, sarge."

He looked back at the other soldiers.

"You joining them?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"No, I need to go check in on Louise, see how she's holding up."

In the infirmary Crosby asked one of the healers where the pinkette was being kept, and the mage pointed him towards a bed partitioned by a curtain. The older soldier took a deep breath, then parted the curtains and sat down on a chair by the bed.

Louise Vallière's eyes were closed, and it appeared as though she was doing better; the dark circles under her eyes were gone, and she was softly breathing in her sleep. For a moment Crosby thought about coming back later, but then the pinkette's eyes fluttered open, and they focused on him. She spoke in a soft voice.

"Sir Crosby!"

He smiled at her.

"How are you feeling, my lady?"

Louise sat up in bed and stretched.

"I feel like I've been asleep for a week."

She blushed as pink as her hair.

"I-I heard from Colbert about my behavior under the influence of the potion…"

A long moment passed between them, then finally Crosby spoke softly.

"You should have told me, Louise."

The pinkette looked up at him, and her wide eyes shimmered with tears. Finally the dam burst and she threw her arms around the Zulu Squad sergeant's neck, sobbing into his armored shoulder guard. Between sobs Crosby heard Louise stammer out hesitatingly.

"I-I tried to be strong, to b-be brave like y-you said…But the nightmares…t-they were too much…"

The sergeant cursed to himself. A memory, one that he hadn't recalled since the dark days of Dubai, came rushing back to Crosby. It was shortly after Delta Squad had descended on the Gate, and used the horrific Wily Pete mortar on the civilians and over 100 soldiers that were protecting them. Most of the casualties were from Charlie and Echo Company, so though Crosby knew the names on the casualty list he didn't place any faces with the names and ranks. That didn't make it any less horrific when he visited the improvised triage at the Gate to check on one of his own, PVT Cory Davis.

Davis was part of Crosby's old platoon before the Mutiny and the formation of Zulu Squad, in the early days before the sandstorms got bad the private was someone who never seemed to take anything seriously. When Konrad announced that he was defying the order to leave Dubai, the first question PVT Davis asked was if they were still getting paid. Even in the insanity that was the Mutiny, when Davis was assigned as a Medic to Crosby's squad, he still joked about his erstwhile comrades dying tired and the squad splitting the loot off the bodies four ways.

When the Zulu Squad sergeant saw the carnage first hand in the triage, it was gut churning and heart-breaking. None of the civilians had survived, and only a dozen soldiers had survived the white phosphorus attack, although calling it survival was a bit of a stretch. Crosby remembered seeing soldiers cooked like overdone barbecue, men missing arms or legs, begging to be put out of their misery. The sergeant remembered 2nd Lt. Eckhart, the ranking medical officer of the 33rd, telling him that there was very little they could do, except administer morphine for the pain. And then Crosby saw Davis, trying to comfort a blue-eyed private who was crying over one of his dying comrades. When the private left, Davis looked at Crosby, and the hollow look in the medic's eyes sickened the combat-hardened sergeant to his core. He remembered the last thing Davis said to him before leaving.

"I-I tried to be strong, Sarge. I really tried..."

Crosby remembered Davis leaving, leaving the sergeant to stare at one of the dying soldiers, only for his reverie to be shattered by the sound of a single gunshot. When the Zulu Squad sergeant and others came rushing out of the triage, they found Davis slumped against a sandbag emplacement, his M9 still clutched in his fingers and most of his brains spattered over the sandbags. All of these memories rushed past Crosby in the blink of a eye, when he looked back down he saw Louise was still weeping in his chest. Very gently he pulled her up so he could see her, and lifted her chin so she made eye contact.

"No, Louise, I'm sorry. That speech I gave you after the Battle for Tristainia, about compartmentalizing and putting on a brave face, that's something I tell all the soldiers under my command."

He paused and wiped a tear away from her eye.

"But sometimes it's not enough to be brave, or strong. Sometimes you need to be strong enough to realize you can't do it alone, that you need support, or someone to talk to. I'm sorry I didn't catch this sooner."

The pinkette looked up at him expectantly, and Crosby continued.

"Regardless of the…embarrassing circumstances surrounding the after effects you got lucky this time. It could have been much worse. Just please, please the next time something like this happens tell me, don't do something rash. Okay?"

Louise sniffed, then nodded. The older soldier gave her a reassuring smile.

"I swore an oath to protect you and keep you safe, I couldn't live with myself if something bad happened to you."

He paused and chuckled.

"Also I don't fancy getting eaten by your mother's manitcore."

That got a laugh out of the pinkette, and she stood up and looked around.

"Where is Saito, my familiar?"

Crosby looked over his shoulder.

"He should have powered down the `Bird by now."

The Zulu Squad sergeant pulled aside the curtain, and Saito was in fact there, only his face was wedged in Kirche Zerbst's cleavage, again. The redhead didn't seem to mind, and she waved at Louise.

"Well hello Louise, darling! Feeling better?"

The older soldier looked back and saw Louise's eye twitch.

"Crap."

That kid had impeccable timing, Crosby thought to himself, and edged away from the pinkette's line of fire as she raised her wand and hissed at the Tokyo teen.

"Sssssaitoooo! You mangy horndog cur!"

* * *

><p>Sgt. Forbes sat down at the table with Lt. Gordon, still feeling out of place. On the way over there he almost collided with a large floating eyeball, and was almost licked by a blue dragon. He glanced about a the other students, all wearing cloaks with metal clasps. He looked over to Gordon.<p>

"You sure this place ain't Hogwarts, sir?"

The lieutenant chuckled and shook his head.

"That's a negative, sergeant. Different story."

He paused as two maids set steaming bowls of stew in front of each soldier. Forbes took a cautious bite, then began eating with gusto.

"I'll say this, sir," he said in between bites "the chow's a lot better than Dubai."

Gordon nodded and took a sip from a wine goblet.

"So you were still in Dubai as of yesterday, huh?"

Forbes paused in his eating.

"Yeah, I bought it right after the botched raid on the Water Coliseum-"

His CO held up a hand.

"Actually, sergeant, I'd rather not know what happened. Doesn't really matter now."

The sergeant nodded, and was about to reply when two more people sat down at their table. One of them Forbe recognized as part of the Damned 33rd's rooftop sniper cadre, a young-looking soldier with blue eyes that looked unsettlingly familiar. The other was a girl with short blonde hair, wearing a white traveling cloak over an ornate metal breastplate and metal bracers. Forbes found it odd that in spite of her armor she also wore a skirt that was slit to the thigh, exposing bare legs. She also had what looked like a Colt 1860 Army revolver in a sash around her waist. She regarded Forbes with curiosity, although no fear, and leaned over to whisper something in the local language to the younger soldier, who smiled.

"Yeah, that's the new guy alright."

He nodded to Forbes.

"Name's Alex, sarge."

Forbes extended a hand.

"Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes, pleasure's all mine."

He looked over to the female knight, and watched her rest her head on the young soldier's shoulder.

"Don't tell me she's your girlfriend?"

The soldier called Alex chuckled nervously.

"Yeeaah, it's kind of a tradition here."

Forbes was astonished and turned back to his CO.

"Sir? Is this permitted? I mean, Sgt. Lugo isn't under your command, but any soldier in the 33rd knows the regulations against fraternizing with the locals."

Gordon shook his head smiling.

"Sergeant, if I may make a suggestion, one good pointer for surviving this world? Lighten up, there's lots of things about this world that don't make a lick of sense, and trying to apply the by-the-book U.S. Army Regs crap here will just drive you nuts."

Forbes opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by another arrival. This one was a student, with long honey-gold hair and light blue eyes. And she had a very impressive bust. And pointed ears. He could barely stammer out an exclamation.

"An elf!? Here?"

Before he could respond, the elf-girl sat down next to Gordon and spoke in some lilting language that wasn't the local lingo. She was gazing at the lieutenant with unalloyed adoration, and her large eyes were shimmering. The realization dawned on Forbes.

"Wait, not you too, sir?"

That caused Forbes' CO to flush a bright pink, and he smiled deprecatingly.

"Well, like the private over here said, it's a bit contagious."

Whatever response Sgt. Forbes was about to give was interrupted by a muffled explosion, followed by the dining hall rumbling. Immediately he reached for his holstered M9, but Gordon reached out and stopped him.

"Not to worry, sergeant. That's not enemy artillery."

Forbes glanced about at the nonplussed expressions on soldiers and students alike.

"What the fuck was that?"

"That, sergeant, is the unofficial mascot of the Damned 33rd here in Helkeginia, a walking IED known as Louise Vallière."

Forbes turned around and saw 1st Lt. McPherson approaching the table. He smirked at the look of disbelief on the sergeant's face.

"Trust me, when you see her you'll know how she got her nickname."

McPherson tossed a magazine at Forbes, who caught it deftly.

"Wrap up your lunch to go, gents. Just got word from the Colonel. He wants everyone back at the palace, stat."

That caused Forbes to fumble with his spare mag.

"Konrad's here?"

_(AN: Soooo, I think Staff Sergeant Forbes will adjust just fine here in Helkeginia, assuming he doesn't pass out from nosebleeds from seeing all the local gals! Hopefully adding the battle sequence doesn't make the chapter too long.)_


	108. Good Intentions

_(AN: So, this chapter is much shorter, since I took the flashback out and put it in the previous chapter, it fits better, I think. Speaking of the rescue, for those not up on their military jargon FISHDO stands for F**k It, Sh*t Happens, Drive On, it's a cruder version of 'Adapt and Overcome'. Speaking of which, I've been pleasantly surprised by the positive feedback on updating the 2__nd__ chapter, it establishes Crosby as a ruthless elite mook that's had to make tough decisions in Dubai, and give him some internal conflict that helps develop his character. So all in all, it's a win-win. Anyways, if you wanted a special effects heavy action escape sequence, you shall have your special effects heavy action escape sequence here; told in flashback:)_

The wind courtyard echoed with the sound of a Black Hawk engine powering up. In the pilot's seat, Crosby gently pushed the Engine Power Control level from 'Idle' to 'Fly' position. He chuckled as he heard Saito's voice in his headset.

_"__But why do I have to stay behind?"_

The sergeant grinned.

"Because you and Louise have to kiss and make up. In case you've forgotten, your platoon officer Lt. Gordon gave you 48 hour leave to handle 'personal matters. I suggest you use that time to take care of Louise."

Crosby paused to toggle the fuel pump switch off, and checked to make sure engine #1 and 2 on the chopper were operating at the same RPM's. When he was satisfied with it, the Zulu Squad sergeant keyed the mic on his radio again.

Besides, this trip to Tristainia is just a standard debriefing, you won't miss anything."

Saito didn't respond, but Crosby heard a loud, high-pitched voice through the static.

_"__What are you doing!? You promised to bring me lunch, what sort of familiar are you?!"_

Crosby smiled.

"Looks like you've got some duties to attend to. Iceman out."

He switched off his radio and glanced back. Forbes, McPherson and Gordon were all strapped in their seats. Before they left Professor Colbert had caught up to them and cast his translation spell on Sgt. Forbes, who was a bit weirded out by the experience. After listening to Kirche talk the sergeant told Crosby he would have preferred not to have to understand the locals. The Zulu Squad sergeant heard Alex speak up.

_"__Hatch is secure, I'm taking up sniping position on the starboard gunner station."_

The young sniper gave the thumbs-up, so Crosby pulled up on the collective and the Black Hawk lifted off the ground. He glanced over to Lugo, who was seated in the copilot's chair.

"I take it you didn't tell Siesta what happened back in Gallia?"

The Delta sniper shook his head.

"Ah, that's a negative. As badly as she overreacted when I was in danger the last time I figured it was safer to omit certain details."

As the Black Hawk banked off to the side Lugo caught sight of a blonde 1st year student with long twin tails conversing with another female student.

"Did Gordon tell you what Beatrice did? Pretty fucked up shit if you ask me."

Crosby shook his head.

"Yeah, I warned him that some of these gals are crazy when it comes to stuff like love."

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later, near the capital city of Tristainia)<strong>

_"Holy shit!"_

Crosby glanced behind him and saw Sgt. Forbes staring out the window.

_"What the hell happened here? World War Three?"_

The Zulu Squad sergeant peered through the Black Hawk's windscreen. The field just beyond the gates of Tristainia were still pockmarked with shell holes and debris, it was ironic that the damage to the surrounding area didn't seem as bad on ground level.

"Well it wasn't World War Three, and it wasn't pretty, but it was a battle and we did win."

He glanced back to Lt. McPherson and made eye contact with him, motioning him to put on the spare headset.

"Switch to command frequency, sir."

Crosby heard McPherson's voice through the static.

_"__On the command channel, what's on your mind, Crosby?"  
><em>

"Sir, it just occurred to me that Forbes isn't aware of Konrad's…sitch. It would probably behoove you to break that to the new guy gently, given how badly he freaked out on Gordon and Alex."

He heard McPherson chuckle.

_"__Roger that, sergeant."_

Crosby pulled the cyclic off to the side, and the chopper banked in sympathy with his movements. As it descended he saw a group of the Royal Sharpshooters gathered at their landing pad, leading them was the short-haired blonde knight Agnès. The older soldier heard Alex's voice come through the static.

_"__Looks like she beat us here, didn't know griffons could go that fast."_

Crosby spoke into his mic.

"Yep, and before you say anything Forbes, yes, they do have griffons here, and they are exactly what you think they are."

After the Black Hawk had landed and Crosby completed the shutdown procedure, he stepped out of the cockpit and joined the rest of the soldiers, who had gathered near the assembled knights. Forbes, unsurprisingly was still staring at the majestic keep of the palace. Agnès de Milan approached the Zulu Squad sergeant and snapped a salute. Alex must have been teaching her that trick, because hers was less sloppy than the other knights.

"Sir Crosby, Lord General Konrad is waiting for you in your barracks."

He nodded.

"Lead the way."

When Crosby opened the double doors to the ballroom that served as their Barracks, he saw the 33rd's commander sitting at a desk writing on a scroll. Konrad glanced up.

"Ah, Sergeant Crosby, I'm glad you made it on such short notice."

The colonel looked over to the other soldiers who entered the room, including the new face.

"I see that reports of another member of the 33rd arriving here are correct."

Sgt. Forbes couldn't believe his eyes, there was Colonel Konrad, alive and well, talking to Crosby. The colonel was wearing his dress uniform, just like he did back in Dubai. Immediately he stood at attention and saluted.

"Colonel Konrad, sir, Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes reporting!"

Their CO smiled and looked over to Lt. McPherson.

"Lieutenant, I don't suppose you informed Sgt. Forbes here that we are no longer in Dubai?"

The lieutenant smirked.

"Gordon did, sir."

Konrad nodded and stood up.

"At ease, sergeant. It's good that you could join us here."

He glanced at his watch.

"I'll want a debriefing from Crosby, but afterwards the princess is putting on a nice lunch for us in the Orchid Garden, all here are cordially invited."

Crosby saw Forbes shoot him a questioning look, and he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted with the door opening. The person that entered caused Sgt. Forbes' jaw to drop. It was a girl in her teens, wearing some sort of ornate silk dress and a tiara. And her hair was purple. She was carrying a tray that held a steaming pot that she set down on Konrad's desk. Before the sergeant could ask, his commander spoke up.

"Sergeant Forbes, may I present Princess Henrietta, the monarch of Tristain."  
>The princess gracefully strode up to Forbes, whose mouth was still opening and closing as if trying to speak. She smiled lightly at him.<p>

"Well met, Sergeant Forbes."

The sergeant finally found his voice and started to hold out his hand, then awkwardly saluted.

"Er, how do you, ma'am."

He looked over to Crosby, who shrugged slightly. The princess smiled again.

"It is alright, you doubtlessly might find my kingdom overwhelming. I will leave you to your companions."

Henrietta turned to leave, but looked over to Konrad.

"Do not forget lunch, John."

The colonel took another sip of coffee and nodded.

"Don't worry, darling I'll be there."

The princess smiled at Konrad, and left. None of the soldiers noticed her leaving, everyone, from McPherson to Crosby all the way down to Forbes, was staring in shock at their commander. McPherson was the first to speak.

"Ah…sir? What was all that about?"

Konrad looked up from his paperwork.

"What was what about, lieutenant?"

McPherson rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Well…the, er…"

Finally Forbes blurted it out.

"Not you too, sir!"

Konrad looked amused at the sergeant's outburst.

"Oh, that. Gentlemen, you can relax your fears. My upcoming nuptials to the princess are strictly for political reasons."

Crosby took a step forward.

"Sir, it's just…you've never addressed the princess in that term of endearment before."

Konrad smiled indulgently.

"Sergeant, I can assure you this is all part of the plan, it's not like I'm developing feelings for the girl or anything."

The colonel poured himself a fresh cup from the pot on his desk. After taking a sip he spoke again.

"Although I have to admit, there are times when I feel like I'm conforming to the mask."

He saw that his words had done little to sway his men, so Konrad changed the subject.

"So, can one of you explain to what happened that would make the king of Gallia send a nasty-gram to Princess Henrietta?"

Crosby glanced over to Forbes, and spoke up.

"Well, sir we were apprehended by his mercenaries and taken to a fortress on the Gallian/Romalian border. Then Sgt. Forbes showed up, and it looked like we were trapped, until…"

The colonel listened to Crosby recount their escape from the fortress, he raised an eyebrow at the recollection of the Fire Mage Kirche firing an MGL. When the Zulu Squad sergeant finally finished Konrad nodded.

"Aha, so that explains it. I wonder what the best way out of this particular mess is."

Lugo raised his hand.

"Well, we could offer to pay for the damages, it always worked whenever I hit a fly ball and broke a neighbor's window, right?"

The colonel chuckled humorlessly.

"There's a difference between a window and a fortress, Sgt. Lugo."

He checked his watch.

"Gentlemen, it's almost lunchtime, so I suggest everyone make their way to the Orchid Garden to see what the cooks have prepared for us."

He glanced over to McPherson.

"Lieutenant, I'm sure you can show them the way. If you'll excuse me I have to go get my badge of office. The princess appreciates it when I wear the livery collar she awarded me."

With that Konrad left the ballroom, leaving the soldiers staring at the door after him. Finally Forbes spoke up.

"Has the colonel always been acting this way since he got to this weird world?"

McPherson slowly shook his head.

"No, that's a first for all of us, sergeant. Although it can't be the love potion, I warned him about that already."

The lieutenant looked over to see the bewildered look on Sgt. Forbes' face.

"I told you sergeant, there's a lot about this place that's going to take some getting used to."

He started walking towards the door.

"There'll be time enough for that, but for now let's get some chow."

_(AN: Uh-oh! Looks like poor Colonel Konrad's fallen victim to the feminine wiles of Princess Henrietta…and a conveniently concealed love potion, that is. The real question is, how badly will their actions in Gallia affect Tristain? Well, stay tuned and find out!) _


	109. Gathering Storm

Forbes stared down at the ornate arrangement on his plate. It looked like some sort of edible floral arragment, rather than the salad that the royal chef called it. He had filled up on the stew at the school, so the sergeant really didn't have much of an appetite. He heard a feminine giggle and glanced up, seeing the young sniper private named Alex whispering something to the blonde girl with the Prince Valiant haircut. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"It's a lot to take in, Josh."

Sgt. Forbes looked back to his neighbor on his right side, Sgt. Crosby. The Zulu Squad sergeant grinned depreciatively

"Although I have to admit you're taking it in stride a lot better than I did. Hell, on my second day here I almost killed a student."

Crosby looked back down at his plate.

"Athough in fairness to me, the little prick had it coming."

Forbes returned the smile.

"Well, I'm glad to see a friendly face in all this madness, Crosby."

He gestured to the princess and the other courtiers.

"And I'm sure I'll get used to all this, it's just a bit of a shock after Dubai."

Forbes poked at something that looked like a mango, then pushed his plate away.

"Gordon told that the lady in the white light-what was her name?"

"The Weaver of Fate, or Tinúviel, or Lady Tinúviel if you want to be formal."

The other sergeant nodded.

"Ok, so Gordon said that Tinúviel has visited you in your dreams?"

Crosby nodded again.

"Yeah, among other things."

Forbes continued.

"Did she ever say why she took us out of Dubai and put us here?"

Crosby shrugged.

"She told me when we first met that I could be the hero here. I supposed she has her reasons."

A frown appeared on the Zulu Squad sergeant's face.

"Although I still owe her boss an ass-kicking for turning me into a chick-magnet teenager."

He saw the dumbfounded look on Forbes' face.

"Ah, it's a long story Forbes. Suffice it to say that she's apparently taken a liking to certain members of the Damned 33rd, although why is anyone's guess."

Their conversation was interrupted by a familiar sounding voice.

"Hey-hey-hey! It's another member of the Damned 33rd who's made it here! Well, you know what they say, better late than dead!"

Both sergeants turned around to see Robert Darden standing there, in the flesh. The civilian known also as the Radioman and the Jester of Albion grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, I needed a breath of fresh air."

He glanced about and automatically put a hand over his crotch.

"Say, ah, that walking IED didn't make it on this trip, did she?"

Crosby chuckled and shook his head.

"That's a negative, Darden. Your nads are safe."

The Radioman pushed out an empty chair to Forbes' left.

"So, what's on the menu for today, aside from this flowery rabbit food?"

He looked over to Crosby.

"They do have rabbits here in Helkeginia, don't they? Or do they have rabbits but call it some weird name like a smerp?"

Darden saw the flat look both sergeants were giving him, and shrugged again.

"Eh, whatever, as long as they don't serve rabbit."

There was another giggle, but this came from the head of the table, where Henrietta and Konrad was sitting. Forbes stared again at the commander of the Damned 33rd, currently smiling and chatting up the country's teenaged monarch.

"I still have trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that Colonel Konrad is shacked up with some child-ruler in this medieval world."

Darden drained a wine goblet and belched.

"Hey, if a pretty girl with purple hair and eyes that big was macking on me, I'd hit that, stat."

Their conversation was interrupted by the royal butler entering the garden. The servant turned to the princess and bowed low.

"I beg your pardon for the interruption, your Highness, but King Jozef of Gallia is awaiting an audience with you in the throne room."

* * *

><p>It was past noon when Jessica finished hitching the horse up to a cart her father used to pick up supplies in Tristain. Satisifed that the harness and bridle were secured, she went back inside the tavern. Leaning against the bar was Timothy Bowles, dressed in his oddly patterned uniform and vest. He smiled at her and took another drink from his tankard.<p>

"Hey babe, we ready to go?"

Jessica returned the smile and nodded once.

"Um-hm, whenever you're ready."

Bowles nodded and drained the last dregs of his ale before setting the tankard on the wooden bar top. He looked over to Scarron, still wearing his outlandish outfit and pancake makeup.

"Thanks for everything, Mr. Scarron."

The owner of the Charming Fairies smiled.

"It is nothing."

Scarron winked and his voice assumed the high-pitched falsetto of his 'Mademoiselle' persona.

"Of course you could really thank me by marrying my Jessica! I'm sure she wouldn't mind!"

The barmaid blushed and smiled demurely, while Bowles just continued to grin.

"Well, once Tristian runs out of enemies, I'm sure we can arrange something."

He bent over to pick up his gear, and almost fell over in the process. It took every bit of restrain on the part of Jessica not to rush to his side, but her father had been adamant about letting Bowles regain his independence. As it was, the young lieutenant was able to get his gear and right himself before turning to follow Jessica out. He didn't get very far, as the chestnut-haired barmaid Jeanne stopping him by hugging him tightly around the waist. Bowles smiled and leaned down as he heard her whisper in his ear.

"Take care of yourself Mr. Bowles!"

She looked over to see the blonde barmaid waving, and whispered again.

"Marlène says goodbye, too!"

Jeanne gave Bowles a small peck on the cheek before running back to the kitchen giggling, with Marlène hot on her heels. He shook his head and grinned.

Jessica was already at the reigns when Bowles made his way out. He was walking better, she noticed, with almost no noticeable limp. Whatever advice her father gave Bowles must have worked, she thought. She watched as the young lieutenant toss his kitbag in the cart and pulled himself up on top of the bench. She looked expectantly at him.

"Are you ready, Timothy?"

Bowles gave the barmaid his trademarked Radioactive Dental Leg Spreader grin.

"Of course, babe, no time like the present!"

That caused Jessica to blush and giggle at the same time, she cracked the whip neatly above the ear of their draft horse, and the cart took off for Tristainia.

* * *

><p>Konrad saw Henrietta pause just before the double doors that opened into her throne room. He noticed the princess's head lowered.<p>

"What's wrong?"

Henrietta looked back up at the colonel with shimmering blue eyes, and not for the first time did Konrad wonder why such a sight made his pulse quicken like some freshman in high school.

"I-I'm afraid. Jozef of Gallia is a cruel and cunning man, and I am just a girl…"

She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Henrietta looked up to see Konrad smiling at her.

"Don't worry, Henrietta. I'll be there for you, as your Lord General I promise I'll do everything I can to protect you."

For a brief fleeting moment the princess felt a pang of guilt over the enchantment that had ensnared Konrad, courtesy of the love potion, but it passed quickly. She returned his smile and opened the door. A page tapped his staff on the floor as she entered.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Henrietta."

Konrad was a bit shocked by the appearance of the king of Gallia. He was younger than the colonel expected. And he had bright blue hair. Konrad recalled that the blue-haired girl Tabitha was from Gallia, and briefly wondered if it was a genetic trait or just another weird aspect of this world. The king cleared his throat and spoke without preamble.

"I wish to speak with you about an incident that occurred in my country."

He glanced over to Konrad.

"Several heavily armed bandits raided one of my castles, killing two dozen of my finest knights and demolishing a wall of the castle in their escape."

Jozef fixed the colonel with a cold glare.

"I have reason to suspect that they were none other than the Outworlders whom you keep in your employ."

Princess Henrietta cleared her throat.

"And on what grounds do you have reason to believe they are?"

For a moment King Jozef remained silent. He knew that if he admitted how he apprehended the two Outworlders it would hurt his case.

"They arrived in a flying airship, the likes of which I have not seen anywhere save here."

He continued to glare at Konrad.

"And I have reason to suspect you are harboring one who is responsible for the murder of Count Mott and his household."

Konrad took a step forward.

"I also heard that men bearing your livery kidnapped a student from the Tristain Academy of Magic, one Charlotte Hélène d'Orléans."

Jozef's eyes widened at the revelation, but managed to hide his surprise with outrage.

"Are you inferring that I would kidnap a child? How dare you, sir!"

The colonel smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile.

"Of course not, your Highness. I was merely inferring that if those men were in fact in your employ you should be more vigilant when hiring mercenaries."

He looked back to Henrietta and then back to Jozef.

"As for the accusations leveled concerning the murder of Count Mott, all the ones you call Outworlders, are under my command. I will gladly answer any charges you wish to level."

Jozef raised an eyebrow.

"Even if it means being taken into custody in their stead?"

"NO!"

Both Konrad and Jozef turned to look at Henrietta, whose eyes had widened as she stood up out of her throne. Even the page seemed shocked at her outburst. The princess continued.

"No, Lord General Konrad and his men are my subjects, and as such are under the protection of Tristain."

She held Jozef's gaze.

"I sincerely doubt you would go to war over something so trivial."

Henrietta turned to leave, addressing her page.

"This audience is concluded, please see King Jozef of Gallia out."

Her abrupt departure left King Jozef speechless, and he was still staring at the door that the princess left through when the page ushered him out of the throne room. Outside the palace the king of Gallia was met by his traveling companion, who wisely decided to stay outside. He could see the anger and disappointment on Jozef's face. Julio Chesaré smiled.

"So, I take it the princess did not see the merit of your arguments?"

Jozef seethed.

"That insufferable brat! She knows that as long as she has those Outworlders and their precious technology that Tristian is undefeatable."

Julio nodded.

"I concur; any act of aggression would be folly as your country lacks the resources necessary to wage a war."

The Gallian monarch gave his advisor a sideways glance.

"I sometimes wonder, Julio, just where your loyalties lie."

The blonde knight chuckled lightly.

"My loyalties are and always have been with the Holy Romalian Empire, but it does not go against my vows to give friendly advice."

Their conversation was interrupted by a droning, chopping noise and both looked skyward for the source of the noise. It was the Outworlder's airship, a bulbous metal contraption held aloft by the spinning blades, it banked to the side and then sped off to the south. Julio was the first to speak.

"Given the Outworlder's considerable technological superiority, as you said it would be folly to wage war against a nation they are sworn to protect."

Jozef nodded.

"And what of Romalia? Will his Holiness sanction a war against Tristian?"

The blonde knight shook his head.

"You might have a case to legally declare war on Tristain, since the Outworlders did perform an act of aggression on your soil, but given the surreptitious means you used to apprehend them at the Orléans estate your legal standing is tenuous at best."

He glanced down at an ornate signet ring that was the badge of his office.

"Besides, his Holiness Vittorio now keeps Cardinal Garro as a close adviser, and the cardinal's mawkish affection for Tristian and her Outworlders is no secret to anyone."

For a while they were silent as they continued walking in the streets of Tristainia, before finally passing through the gate. Finally Julio spoke again.

"There is always the Reconquista."

King Jozef scoffed.

"Don't make me laugh, I have seen firsthand the aftermath of Albion's ill-advised invasion of Tristain."

He gestured to the potter's field beside the road, which was the site of all the bodies of the Reconquista soldiers killed in the battle. It still carried the stench of a charnel house.

"Things have changed since then, King Jozef."

Both king and knight turned to the source of the new voice, and they saw two cloaked figures approach. One was female, and as she continued to speak she threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing a young woman with unsettling violet eyes.

"It is true that the Reconquista underestimated the capabilities of the Outworlders and their weapons, but things have changed since then."

Before Jozef could speak, Sheffield turned to the other cloaked figure, a knight, and beckoned him to approach.

"Show the king your weapon, Sir Francis."

The knight took a step forward, and produced a rifle from the folds of his traveling cloak. Jozef stared at the weapon, it was not a flintlock musket, it was shorter with a stubby barrel and a rectangular metal box on the underside in front of the trigger guard. To demonstrate, the knight pulled a crooked handle at the back of the barrel up and backwards, ejecting a brass cartridge.

"This rifle is the result of experimentation by several artisans, including a blacksmith by the name of Stuart Lee Enfield, courtesy of a weapon seized from an Outworlder we took prisoner during the war."

The knight took the cartridge and inserted it back into the breach, then locked the bolt action back into place.

"It fires cartridge bullets instead of musket balls, and holds ten such cartridges that can be fired in rapid succession."

Sir Francis then withdrew the weapon, concealing it back into his cloak. The king looked back at the woman, who was smiling.

"As you can see, King Jozef, the playing field has now been leveled."

_(AN: Whoops! Looks like the pesky Reconquista haven't learned their lesson, and more to the point, looks like they now have bolt-action rifles! What will happen next? Don't you dare touch that dial, stay tuned for the next exciting chapter of…Zulu Squad No Tsukaima!)_


	110. Down, But Not Out

_"Hey, take a look sarge!"_

Crosby eased off the throttle of the collective and took his eyes off the windscreen to glance over where Sgt. Lugo was pointing. He was taking Lugo and Lt. Gordon back to the Academy after the debriefing. Sgt. Forbes had also requested to accompany them back, and Konrad had granted it. Now flying over the city of Tristainia, Crosby noticed what the Delta sniper was pointing out. There was a man in regal clothes speaking to a cloaked figure. It took the Zulu Squad sergeant a few seconds to recognize him as the king of Gallia. He heard Lugo speak.

_"Well, looks like old King Joey doesn't look too happy."_

Crosby shook his head.

"Nope. Though if I got schooled by a teenaged girl I think I'd be pretty pissed, too."

He pushed the cyclic forward and the Black Hawk sped off in the direction of the Tristain Academy of Magic, and didn't notice the cloaked female that the king was conversing with. If the Zulu Squad sergeant know who Jozef was talking to, he would have ordered Forbes to gun down all parties concerned and saved Tristain and the Damned 33rd a world of hurt.

* * *

><p><strong>(The next morning, dining hall at the Tristain Academy of Magic)<strong>

"Okay, Crosby I'm throwing the bullshit flag, you mean to tell me that she gave Specialist Hiraga these magical glasses that would beep when he looked at other girls?"

Crosby took another bite of bread and chuckled.

"Yeah, its sounds ridiculous for me even saying it, and I was there. She was insane jealous, and you won't believe what we had to do to get them off him."

Sgt. Forbes shook his head. The two sergeants were having breakfast in the student's dining hall, and whilst bringing Forbes up to speed Crosby had mentioned the incident with the enchanted glasses that caused Saito so much pain. A feminine chuckle interrupted the two sergeants' conversation.

"Aha, there you are!"

Forbes turned around and saw the redhead that was with him on his first mission in Gallia. Kirche Zerbst, if he remembered correctly. The girl offered Forbes some sort of golden pendant.

"I never got a chance to thank you for rescuing my friend Tabitha, take this Germanian pendant as a token of my gratitude."

Sgt. Forbes glanced over to Crosby, who gave a slight nod. As the other sergeant extended his gloved hand to accept it, Kirche leaned in, putting more of her impressive cleavage on display. She batted her eyes seductively.

"If you like, I can thank you in other ways. I am known as Kirche the Mild, but since Fire is my element, I am also known as Kirche the Ardent."

Her advances caused Forbes to lean back into his chair, causing the redhead to let out another throaty chuckle.

"If you need proof of my prowess, simply ask my old War Horse Sir Crosby, as he has enjoyed my hospitality before!'

With that Kirche skipped off, still chuckling to herself. Forbes stared after the girl dumbfoundedly, then slowly turned back to the Zulu Squad sergeant, who was still eating.

"Um…Crosby?"

"Yep, still here."

"What exactly did…Kirche, right?

When Crosby nodded he continued.

"So what exactly did Kirche mean by that?"

Crosby took another sip of coffee and glanced up at Forbes.

"Mean by what? Oh, that."

He shrugged.

"I forgot about that. Well, one day the walking IED botched a transmutation spell that turned me into a teenager. At one point I had just about every girl in this school after me. And then Kirche sent her familiar after me and held me in her room."

He shook his head.

"I had to spend the night in her bed."

Crosby heard a clattering sound, and looked up to see Forbes had dropped his coffee cup, and his eyes were wide. The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled.

"If it makes you feel better I didn't sleep with her. I had to fight off her advances until she fell asleep."

Finally Forbes noticed the coffee spilled on the table, and started to mop it up with a spare napkin.

"I told you, Forbes. This place is weird."

That made the sergeant pause, he back to Crosby, and then shook his head, laughing.

"Weird doesn't begin to make the nut, sarge. This place is sixteen flavors of fucked up."

He finished wiping up the spilled coffee, then a maid brought him a fresh cup. As Crosby finished his bread he noticed that Forbes was still staring at him.

"What's on your mind, Josh?"

Forbes took a sip of his fresh coffee.

"You've changed, Crosby."

That caused the Zulu Squad sergeant to raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

The other sergeant continued.

"Well, I get it that you've been here for months, and I've only been here less than 48 hours. To me Dubai is still real, for you it must be like a distant memory."

He stared into his coffee cup, and continued.

"But even in Dubai you weren't the same after Operation Cockroach."

Crosby's face hardened at the mention. Even after so much time had passed, the memory of what happened to his friend and the pain of loss still hurt. Forbes continued.

"You changed that evening, hell even Martinez was concerned for you, and you know how cold and detached you Zulu Squad guys are."

He paused.

"Or were."

For a long time Crosby was silent, then he finally spoke.

"This place changes you, Forbes. For the most part it's for the better, although I'd be lying to you if I told you it doesn't make you soft."

He gestured to the students who were seated at tables and eating.

"This place, for all of its weirdness, is a place where you can do the right thing and Fate won't punish you for it. The Weaver of Fate, Lady Tinúviel sent me here saying that I could become something that I couldn't be in Dubai. A hero."

Crosby chuckled to himself.

"Of course when she first sent me here I was like you, didn't believe it. But after a while it grows on you."

He shook his head.

"Lugo even called me on it, saying that the Grinch's heart had grown a few sizes."

The mention of Lugo's name caused Forbes to frown, and Crosby caught on.

"Look, sergeant, speaking of Sgt. Lugo, I need the two of you to square things away. For me, we cleared the air by slugging the aggression out of each other."

He rubbed the back of his head.

"Although if you do that I recommend wearing a helmet, Siesta is pretty lethal with that frying pan of hers."

He continued.

"But whatever you do, get it squared away. You two don't have to be bosom buddies, but I need you to be able to work together without fragging each other. Understood?"

Forbes didn't answer right away, but finally nodded.

"If you trust him with your life, then I'll trust him."

Crosby nodded and stood up.

"That's all I need to hear, Josh. C'mon, let's go see if we can find the Specialist and his girlfriend."

Forbes stood up and followed Crosby out of the hall, although they didn't have to go too far. The pinkette Louise almost collided with Crosby in her haste to enter the hall. She looked up at the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"There you are, Sir Crosby! I need your help, my familiar is in danger!"

Forbes heard Crosby sigh.

"Alright, my lady, what sort of trouble did your boyfriend get into?"

The pinkette frowned.

"That mangy cur isn't my boyfriend! Some new boy, a Romalian noble, has challenged him to a duel, and I'm afraid he will kill Saito."

She paused in her rant and blushed slightly.

"He-he told Saito that the winner of the duel gets to kiss me."

Crosby glanced back to Forbes.

"Sergeant, why don't you go report to Osmond and see if he can get that magical-replenish-shit spell to work on your stash of C4?"

Forbes nodded.

"You don't need backup on this, sarge?"

Crosby held up his FN P90.

"That's a negative, sergeant. This isn't my first duel. If shit goes pear-shaped I'll raise you on the radio."

He turned to Louise.

"Alright, lead the way."

There was a large crowd gathered in the Water courtyard, and Crosby could overhear snippets of conversation from the students. The girls were all a-twitter about this new boy, going on about how pretty he was. The boys were all talking about how the Zero's familiar was going to be killed, since the new boy was an expert swordsman. Finally Crosby pushed aside the last line of students and found who he was looking for. In the center of an improvised circle was Saito, and opposite him was the new boy.

"Just what the hell is up with all these pretty-boys?" Crosby muttered to himself.

The new boy was tall, taller than Saito but not as tall as the soldier. He had long blonde hair and handsome if effete features. The boy's most striking feature was his eyes, one was blue the other was henna-colored. The Zulu Squad sergeant took in all this in the span of a few seconds, then spoke up.

"What the hell's going on here?"

The blonde boy did not take his eyes off Saito and spoke.

"I have challenged this Saito to a duel, I will deal after I have defeated him."

Crosby took another step forward.

"Not happening, kid. Saito is my charge's familiar, and more to the point he's also part of the Damned 33rd. Any issues you have with him, you have with me."

The new boy finally turned to speak with Crosby, but his eyes widened at the sight of the Zulu Squad sergeant in his armor and weapon. The boy made a flourishing bow.

"I regret my harsh tone, good sir, and beg forgiveness for my manners. I am Sir Julio Chesaré, Dragon Knight."

He noticed that the beam of red light that was issuing from Crosby's weapon was still pointed at his chest. Hastily he genuflected.

"I-I yield and forfeit this duel."

Julio lowered his voice so only Crosby could hear.

"I am here on official Romalian business, and I must speak with you in private."

Crosby looked over to Saito.

"You alright, kid?"

The teen nodded once.

"Go take Louise back to the Academy. I have to speak with Pretty Boy here."

* * *

><p>Crosby checked the hallway to make sure there were no students or ears listening, then looked back at the Romalian noble. Julio seemed unnerved at the fact that Crosby hadn't secured his weapon, and that made the sergeant suspicious.<p>

"Alright, we're in private, now spill."

The blonde knight made a light bow.

"I am afraid I was not entirely forthcoming with you, Sir Crosby. I am not just a Dragon Knight, but a priest in the Court of his holiness Pope Vittorio."

He looked at Crosby directly.

"Apparently, his Eminence Cardinal Garro speaks rather highly of your companions, and especially of you."

Crosby nodded.

"Go on."

"War is coming to Tristain. The Reconquista was dealt a humiliating defeat at your hands in the Battle for Tristainia, and with Cromwell's death we determined that the body would die without its head."

He shook his head.

"But, like an unholy revenant, the Reconquista refuses to die, and continues to spread its poisonous beliefs. Now we have reason to believe that they have poisoned the heart of King Jozef of Gallia, and with his armies they will certainly attempt another attack."

Crosby shrugged.

"So what's your angle?"

Julio smiled enigmatically.

"Under normal circumstances the Reconquista and Romalia would be on the same page, their goal is to unite all of the kingdoms of Helkeginia and wage a second Holy War against the elves in the desert, to reclaim the Holy Land."

The smile left the knight's face.

"But dark rumors circulate about the Reconquista's inner circle, men whisper about dark entities and fell creatures that the Reconquista treat with."

He shuddered.

"The red dragon was all the proof his Holiness needed to determine that this Reconquista needs to be defeated."

Julio looked directly at Crosby.

"And you will need Romalia's help to defeat it."

The Zulu Squad sergeant cocked his head to one side.

"How?"

The Romalian knight didn't respond, but reached into the folds of his cloak and produced a map. He unfurled it against a wall, Crosby noticed that it was a stylized map of Helkeginia. Julio pointed to a section on the map, the northern region of Romalia.

"There is a cave on the outskirts of the coastal town of Venicia. This cave holds secrets known only to his Holiness's inner circle, will aid you in your defense of Tristain."

He rolled the map back up and handed it to Crosby.

"I would have you travel to this cave, and when the sun sets tomorrow I will meet you there and show you these secrets."

Julio turned to leave.

"I must go now, but I warn you, Sir Crosby that things do not always appear as they seem. You must be cautious. Farewell."

Crosby looked down at the map, and when he looked back up the knight had already disappeared. The sergeant shook his head and walked off in search of Lt. Gordon to phone it in to HQ.

* * *

><p>"Sergeant, are you sure that kid's on the level?"<p>

McPherson thought the proposal of the Romalian Dragon Knight was too good to be true. Apparently Crosby shared his sentiments.

_"I don't trust that wall-eyed fop any farther than I could throw him, sir, but if Romalia has more tech that they're willing to share with us I say it's worth investigating."_

The lieutenant nodded.

"Alright, Crosby I'll authorize an expedition to Romalia to investigate, but leave Specialist Hiraga and the walking IED behind on this one. Take Lugo and Forbes on this, and maintain radio contact."

He heard Crosby's voice acknowledge.

_"__Roger that, sir. Iceman out."_

The lieutenant walked over to where his CO was writing at his desk.

"I assume you overheard that, sir?"

The colonel nodded.

"I'm suspicious like you, but I agree with Crosby, since we lost Bravo Six and the Zippo truck if there is any tech out there that we can use in the war against the Reconquista I say it worth checking out."

He took another sip of coffee, and noticed McPherson was still standing there.

"Something on your mind, lieutenant?"

The younger soldier spoke up.

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

Konrad smiled.

"Lieutenant, you can say whatever's on your mind. And leave the spit-and-polish at the door."

McPherson returned the smile, but then his face assumed a serious expression.

"It's…about your relationship to the princess, sir. Even I've noticed you're acting different around her. The men, that is to say, Private Walker has noticed it too. Even his girlfriend the blonde knight has noticed your behavior is off, sir."

Konrad shook his head.

"Damned if I don't know that, lieutenant. I don't feel myself whenever I'm around Henrietta, it feels like I'm a teenager again, dominated by my hormones."

He sat back down at his desk.

"The weird thing is by the evening I'm fine, but then in the morning it starts all over again."

"Sir, maybe the princess slipped you a mickey."

The colonel shook his head again.

"Impossible, lieutenant, I've refused every drink the princess has tried to put in front of me. There's no way she could have slipped that love potion to me."

Konrad reached for his coffee cup and raised it to take another sip. He paused, and looked down at the coffee in his cup. A light went on in the colonel's head.

"Lieutenant, I think I know the culprit."

_(AN: Aaaand more plot twists! Just whose side is Julio Chesaré on, anyways? And what sort of Earth Tech will they find at this Romalian cave of wonders? And how will the princess react to Konrad calling her out on it? Stay tuned to find out!)_


	111. The Memory Remains

_(AN: Not happy with the delay, not happy that it's basically filler, and not happy with the title. But at least it's a chapter, right?)_

Forbes was back in Dubai. He knew it was a dream, but it was so real, he began to think that the weird world of magic and large doe-eyed females was the dream. His outpost Checkpoint Charlie was under attack by the mutineers, he and his fire team buddy had barely repelled the second wave. The idea that the 33rd would go to war with itself was unthinkable a few weeks back, before the botched evacuation that cost so many lives. The staff sergeant shook his head.

The one leading the mutiny along with the rest of the command staff wasn't just Konrad's aide de camp, Lt. Colonel David Long, had transferred to the 33rd straight from OCS. Konrad had groomed him personally and had seen him rise from a 'Butter Bar' lieutenant all the way up to his current rank, especially in the wake of the sandstorms in Dubai he had become the colonel's closest friend and confidant. Which made the ensuing mutiny seem like the outright betrayal that it was. The sergeant's musings were interrupted by the loud report of an MSG-90, followed by a whoop of delight.

"He's dead!"

The young private peered around from behind his scope and hollered out into the sand-strewn foyer of the ruined museum designated Checkpoint Charlie.

"Hey assholes! Keep running, you'll just die tired!"

Forbes glared at the other soldier.

"Knock it off, Davis!"

Forbes glanced around the improvised barricade, then back to the private.

"Cover my six, I'm zip-lining down!"

The mutineers, or Exiles, as they called themselves, were being coordinated by an officer down in the lobby, cutting the head off was the surest way to cause the treasonous bastards to scatter. Forbes heard Davis on his radio.

_"__Flashbang away!"_

He covered his eyes, there was a blinding light and a cloud of sand kicked up. Under the cover of the sand cloud Forbes sprinted towards the improvised zip-line, sliding down. He could see the officer at the ground floor, still disoriented by the light and coughing in the sand cloud. If he could time it just right the sergeant would almost land on top of him. Forbes timed it just right, his booted feet connected with the officer's back and sent the man flying to the ground.

Immediately they struggled on the ground, Forbes tried to wrestle the man's shotgun out of his hands. In the struggle the officer had reached up and pulled Forbes' face coverings off, and his eyes widened with recognition.

"Josh?"

Forbes was equally stunned, he knew that voice. Without another word he pulled the renegade officer's balaclava off.

"Norris?"

SGT. Norris served alongside Crosby and Forbes in Lt. Gordon's platoon; the three of them were inseparable since their unit transferred from Ft. Benning to Kabul, when they all got the unofficial 'Damned 33rd' skull tattoos. The sergeant had resigned himself to fratricide when Konrad gave the orders that the mutineers were to be shown no quarter, but he never dreamed that his friend had sided with the mutineers. Without thinking he clubbed Norris in the face with the butt of his M4. Norris pleaded for his life.

"Forbes, wait!"

But Forbes didn't wait. He kept clubbing Norris in the face, until blood spurted out of the man's mouth. Over and over the butt of his weapon connected, even though he wanted to stop he couldn't. It was as if Forbes was an automaton, doomed to repeat his actions. Desperately he wanted Norris' sufferings to end, for him to die. But even when his erstwhile friend's face was a bloody unrecognizable wreck, his blood and brains clotting the sand under his head, Norris still screamed.

"FORBES NOOOOO!"

Forbes sat up in bed, sweat coating his face. For a while he sat there in bed, panting and sweating heavily. Finally tears formed in his eyes, and as he wept he heard a voice. It was a soft, feminine voice.

**_"_****_You cannot conquer your demons alone, Joshua Forbes."_**

Forbes looked and saw it was the green-haired lady, the one who rescued him from Dubai, sitting on the edge of his bed. The Lady Tinúviel reached out with a delicate hand and wiped away one of his tears.

**_"_****_Your new companions will help you, for they have suffered the same loss as you have, all you must do is ask."_**

She stroked Forbes' cheek, and immediately he felt the calming sensation wash over him. He smiled thinly at the lady.

"You want me to open up to someone? This place is a little nuts but I doubt they have shrinks here."

Tinúviel covered her mouth and giggled musically.

**_"_****_No, there are not. But there are some here who can help you, if you but ask."_**

She placed a hand on Forbes' chest and gently pushed him back into bed.

**_"_****_Now go back to sleep, Joshua Forbes, and dream of more pleasant things."_**

The sergeant felt his eyes go heavy, and he drifted off to a peaceful slumber. The lady sat there watching Forbes softly snoring in his sleep, then snapped her fingers and disappeared.

* * *

><p>"Penny for your thoughts, Captain?"<p>

Captain Pelayo looked up from her half-finished drink at the strange man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. The Storyteller Country Ollman was in the process of making a drink when he noticed the thoughtful expression on the Marine's face. She shrugged.

"Well, it's just when I was…still alive I always had different ideas of what the afterlife would be like."

She glanced about her. They were sitting on the rustic wooden patio outside the Storyteller's shack by the seashore. The same seashore she woke up on after her helicopter crashed in the botched invasion. Except now she was sipping mojitos and watching the surf crash against the beach as her host made another cocktail. He smiled at her.

"And let me guess, you were picturing fluffy clouds?"

Pelayo shrugged again.

"I don't know, I just never pictured it would be like this."

Country finished making the drink and took a sip to test it.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first. Here, I'll swap you drinks."

He handed her a fresh mojito to replace her half-finished one, and continued.

"Lots of people have their own ideas, some picture an old bearded gent with a white dressing gown, some a carpenter, others a one-eyed Viking dude with a raven, some even were disappointed I wasn't some tentacled eldritch abomination."

He mixed another drink as he spoke.

"The truth, sweetie, is that everyone got it right, and everyone got it wrong. Everybody in all the worlds I manage worship their respective deities, expecting their respective gods to hear their prayers, when the only one who's listening is me."

Absently he raised the palm of his hand and a small verdant world with two moons appeared.

"In this world, for example, the folks in Helkeginia worship me and gave me the name of some mage dude named Brimir. It's actually kind of funny, if you stop and think about all the ways I've messed with them."

He chuckled and dispelled the world in a puff of smoke.

"If only those folks knew."

He looked back at Pelayo, who was sitting listening in rapt silence.

"Actually there's was an entire Pantheon of us, some of whom you should count your lucky starts you escaped their notice."

She took a sip of her drink.

"For example?"

Country shrugged.

"There are some in the Pantheon who are sadistic cruel beings and torment their charges and creations just for the fun of it."

He finished mixing the second mojito and sipped it.

"There are others in the Pantheon who are uptight peckerwoods who are real Rigid Randys when it comes to rules. Other in the Pantheon are Pleasure Gods who think it's their mission to put their creations through all sorts of unnatural acts of depravity for their own amusment."

He shrugged.

"Me, I think the whole point of creating worlds is to have fun in the process. What's the point in being God if you can't have some harmless fun?"

With that, Pelayo chuckled, spilling some of her drink.

"You know, if I told my daddy that in the afterlife I'd be getting drunk with God he'd have swatted me for blaspheming."

She accepted a clean napkin from Country and started dabbing at her blouse.

"I swear you mixed that second mojito stronger."

As she wiped some of the drink off her white peasant blouse she raised an eyebrow at her host.

"Speaking of coming up with contrived reasons to put the Marine pilot in stripperific clothes, is there a reason I'm dressed this way?"

She gestured to her outfit, in addition to her blouse that bared an amble amount of cleavage she was also wearing a tattered skirt with coins on the hem that jingled. It also had a slit that came almost up to the waist. The Storyteller chuckled.

"As your companions doubtlessly told you, a false flag was necessary to get close to the bad guy."

He held up one finger.

"It requires a) someone who is female and can pass for a gypsy..."

He held up a second finger.

"...and b) someone tough enough to take the bad guy out."

Country smiled.

"I don't know about you, but I doubt Private Gobbi could've pulled off the skirt."

That earned another laugh from Pelayo.

"No, I guess you're right."

Her host sat down in his chair and winked at her.

"And besides, you look very fetching in that outfit."

Pelayo flushed lightly and tried to rearrange her skirt so the the slit didn't reveal as much skin.

"Fine, have your fun. But no more corsets, okay?"

Failing with her skirt except to show more leg, she tried to adjust the corset around her waist.

"These things are a major pain, literally."

Without warning the dog came through the patio door and sat down, its intelligent eyes locked onto its master.

"Yes, Barnaby, what's up?"

The dog, to Pelayo's surprise, cleared its throat and spoke in a cultured British voice.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm very sorry to interrupt, but the Lady Tinúviel is here, and wishes to speak to you."

Country didn't register the sideways glare his female guest was shooting him and spoke.

"Cool, show her in."

The dog nodded.

"Very good, sir."

Pelayo watched as the dog walked back into the house and glared at her host again.

"You keep a conquest in every port, buster?"

The Storyteller just grinned at her glare.

"Why, Captain Pelayo, the little green devil dog of jealously does not befit you."

Before Pelayo could respond a tall, graceful woman walked through the doorway. Well, walked was too crude of a term, the tall lady seemed to glide in. She had very pale skin and exotic features, but the most striking feature was her vivid green hair and large eyes that were the exact same shade of emeralds. Pelayo stared at the newcomer, then turned and frowned at her host.

"Well, if she's not your main squeeze, or the maid, then who is the princess in the vapor drapery?"

The exotic lady strode up to Pelayo and gave her a cool appraising look. When she spoke it was in a soft, lilting voice tinged with sarcasm.

**_"_****_T'is amusing words, coming from one dressed like a trollop."_**

The marine shifted her glare to the taller lady.

"What the hell did you just call me?"

Country held up a forestalling hand.

"Cool your jets, Captain. This is the Lady Tinúviel, my second in command."

He looked up at the tall lady.

"Lady Tinúviel, please be nice to my guest, Captain Pelayo."

The marine and the elven maiden shared a curt nod of greeting. Finally it was Pelayo that broke the ice.

"So, you're…what? Like one of the Fates in the Greek myths?"

That caused Tinúviel to smile.

**_"_****_In a manner of speaking. I am the Weaver of Fate, `tis I who pluck out the threads that are to be cut and weave them into other Tapestries where they can redeem themselves."_**

Pelayo took another sip of her drink.

"Sounds like a fancy way of saying you do what ol' Country Ollman does here."

The Storyteller shrugged.

"Lady Tinúviel has been very helpful to me, she's better at handling the day to day operations."

He grinned at the Weaver of Fate.

"Although sometimes I wonder if she's going to make it her personal mission to rescue every member of the Damned 33rd from Dubai."

Pelayo raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you're responsible for saddling me with those immature grunts?"

Tinúviel cocked her head to one side.

**_ "_****_Interesting. In conversing with my charges they seem to think that it is you who are a mismatch for their group. One of them in particular seemed to bandy about the word 'uptight' and similar terms most frequently."_**

She blushed and giggled lightly.

**_"_****_The phrase that Sergeant Torrez used to describe you involved a large pole and was particularly colorful, if anatomically impossible."_**

Pelayo frowned.

"If that horndog said what I think he said I'm going to relocate his smug face to the other side of his head!"

A frown creased the Weaver of Fate's radiant features.

_**"You shall do no such thing, they are under my protection from all threats. Even from one as callow as you."**_

Country spoke up.

"Ladies, unless you want me to conjure up a wading pool full of Jell-O for the two of you to cat fight in, I would ask you both to reign it in."

He glanced over to Pelayo.

"Sweetie, I've got some work-related stuff to discuss with my second-in-command, so just enjoy the view for a minute and I'll be right out, okay?"

The Marine finally tore her glare away from Tinúviel and nodded, but watched as Country stood up and followed the taller lady into his shack.

Inside the Storyteller's dwelling Lúthien sat down on her accustomed chair, while her Lord sat in his and lit his pipe.

"So, toots, what's on your mind?"

She brushed some of the hair from her pointed ear.

_**"But you already know, my Lord."**_

He chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, I know, but I'd rather hear you tell me."

She returned his smile, but then her face grew grave.

_**"I fear for the well-being of one of my charges, I fear that the hardships he endured in Dubai might be irreversible, should he have to face his Crucible."**_

She lowered her eyes.

**_"_****_In countless different outcomes where the patterns in the Tapestry unfold, I have seen him suffer a terrible loss as part of his Crucible, one that will send him over the brink." _**

She reached out and took one of the Storyteller's hands in her own.

**_"_****_Please, I know that there are certain rules that have to be abided by. But I ask, nay, I beg that you not let him suffer this loss. It would break his heart, and surely damn him."_**

The Storyteller remained silent for a while, puffing on his pipe. Finally the man took the pipe out of his mouth and set it down.

"Alright, you win."

Tinúviel smiled in gratitude.

_**"Truly, my Lord?"**_

He returned the smile and nodded.

"I promise you that your charge won't have to suffer the full effect of his Crucible. I will not test beyond his capacity, and leave him plenty of room to recover. Fair?"

Tinúviel smiled in gratitude.

_**"Thank you, my Lord!"**_

Before he could respond, a female voice called into the house from the back patio.

"Mr. Country? This Marine Captain finds herself dry on refreshment, that mojito isn't going to fix itself!"

The Weaver of Fate looked back at her Lord coyly.

**_"_****_It would appear as if your guest requires another intoxicating beverage for her to throw herself shamelessly at you and make a fool of herself."_**

Country chuckled lightly at Lúthien's barb, and stood up to make his way back to the patio.

"Y'know, I take back what I said. I don't think the green devil suits you either, toots."

_(AN: Yeah, I know, more filler and blatant shipping. Work's been crazy busy on this end and very draining, and truth be told even though I've stubbed out the next arc I've been struggling to write it. Whereas this just flowed out from my fingertips and onto the page. Here's hoping it'll kickstart the creative juices.)_


	112. Bait and Switch

_(AN: We're rapidly approaching the Big Reveal of Romalia's stash of Earth tech! But first, we need to resolve Henrietta's Yandere and the colonel's OOC, so without further ado!)_

The palace halls were still dark when the Royal Sharpshooter approached his commanding officer's bedchambers. Under any other circumstances he would have rather not disturbed Agnès de Milan, but orders were orders. He knocked on the door. There was a sound of shuffling feet as the door opened. His commander was standing in the doorway, disheveled and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It took him a moment to realize that, aside from an Outworlder's tunic she was also naked. She let out a yawn and spoke.

"What is it, Sir Aramis? Why do you disturb me at this early hour?"

The knight bowed low, hiding his consternation and embarrassment.

"I-I beg your pardon, Knight-Commander! But his Lordship General Konrad requested your presence, saying it was of the utmost urgency."

A thoughtful expression crossed Agnès' face, and she nodded once.

"Very well, tell Lord General Konrad that I will be there shortly."

The musketeer turned to go, but paused.

"Well? Is there something more?"

Sir Aramis cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Er, his Lordship also stated that if you…see the Outworlder known as Private Walker that he is to report in as well."

Her cheeks flushed lightly at that comment, but she nodded, dismissing the musketeer and closed the door. In her spartan chambers Agnès de Milan padded over to the nightstand and lit a candle, throwing some light on her bed and the bed's other occupant. Alex was lying on the bed, clad only in his brown-green military issued boxers and still sound asleep. She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the boy's cheek, her finger running across his face and down his throat where his ID tags hung on his chest on a chain. She smiled at the recollection when he told her they were called 'dog tags' and she smiled again in remembering her own quip saying that Lady de La Vallière's familiar should be issued 'dog tags' as well.

Finally she gently shook Alex's shoulder to awaken him. But the young sniper only shifted in his sleep, and rolled over on his side. A frown creased Agnès' face, but a small smile crept across her lips, and she reached over and tickled Alex's bare flank. It had the desired effect, the young soldier sat bolt upright.

"Crap! What the hell?"

As he got his bearings Alex saw his girlfriend grinning at him, then he checked his watch.

"What's the gag? It's 0535!"

He looked up to see Agnès smiling down at him.

"Your commander requested my presence immediately."

She turned and shrugged off Alex's ACU shirt, and bent over the washbasin.

"He also requested you to report in as well."

The blonde knight started to wash her face, but didn't get very far as a pair of arms pulled her back onto the bed, causing her to squeal. She wrestled in Alex's grip, and quickly gained the upper hand. In the blink of an eye she was on top of Alex, straddling him easily. The young soldier didn't seem to mind and was still grinning.

"You know, I seem to recall our first encounter started out like this."

Agnès returned the boy-soldiers' smile and blushed lightly. She leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

"Perhaps your commander could wait a few more minutes."

* * *

><p><strong>(10 minutes later, the Damned 33<strong>**rd****'s Barracks at the Tristainia Royal Palace)**

Both Alex and Agnès, her wearing her full Chevalier armor and cloak and he in his ACU's with his M99 slung over his shoulder, pushed the door that opened into the ballroom serving as the 33rd's barracks. To Alex's surprise, he saw Lt. McPherson tending a small fire in the room's cavernous fireplace. Dangling over the fire was a small camp-style coffeepot. He saw Konrad standing there and he stood at attention.

"Colonel, sir! Private First Class Alex Walker, reporting in!"

He saw Konrad raise an eyebrow.

"I sent word to summon Knight-Commander Agnès de Milan over ten minutes ago."

He glanced at the blonde knight.

"Don't tell me the private was that hard to find, ma'am."

She flushed under the colonel's scrutiny, until Alex spoke up.

"Ah, sir? I was practicing my sniper concealment training, sir."

The colonel raised his other eyebrow."

"Sniper concealment training? At this hour?"

It was Alex's turn to blush.

"Er, yes, sir. I-I couldn't sleep, sir."

Konrad smiled.

"I thought you would, given that your rack was untouched as of this morning."

Having sufficiently embarrassed the young sniper Konrad turned away.

"At ease, private. We're still waiting for the last person to show before I inform you of the reason for a debriefing meeting at this early hour."

As if on cue the door opened and a familiar voice called across the room.

"Jeezus, John what the heck did you need from me at this hour?"

The other inhabitants turned and saw the Radioman, still in his PJ's, come in yawning.

"Glad you could make it, Robert Darden."

The Radioman shook his head.

"It's like, not even light out. You know the last time I woke up before dawn was college? Hell, that's why I dropped out!"

Konrad nodded.

"Darden, I understand the circumstances, but all will become clear once I explain."

He glanced over at Lt. McPherson, who brought the colonel a steaming tin cup.

"Some of you might have noticed my rather odd behavior towards the princess, some of you have even gone so far as to vocalize your concerns."

He took a sip of coffee and made a sour face.

"It has come to my attention that Princess Henrietta had procured a love potion because she was getting impatient. For a while I was not sure how her Highness was slipping me this mickey."

He glanced down at his coffee cup.

"As it turned out, the culprit was right under my nose."

Konrad then looked directly at the assembled soldiers and civilians.

"I have decided to take matters into my own hands to put an end to this, and I require each of your help to pull it off."

He turned to McPherson.

"Lieutenant, would you be so kind as to start the debriefing?"

* * *

><p>It was 0615 when Forbes emerged from his chambers. He started to knock on Sgt. Crosby's door, but decided against it. The staff sergeant couldn't remember what dreams he had the previous night, but for some reason he wanted to open up to someone, and Crosby was a good friend. Unfortunately it was still early, and if the snoring coming from the other side of the door was anything to go off of, the Zulu Squad sergeant was still asleep. Instead Forbes took a walk.<p>

The kitchen was bustling, but none of the maids spoke to him, or even made eye contact. Absently he took an apple out of a tray as he passed it, although he wasn't particularly hungry, so he placed it in his pocket and continued his jaunt. As he walked through the deserted hallways that connected each tower, Forbes couldn't fathom why he wanted to talk about it. After the Mutiny he didn't tell anyone, everybody was too busy reorganizing the remaining 'Damned' into coherent units. Then he forgot, or so he thought. Every now and then he would have the same nightmare, bludgeoning his friend Norris to death with his own weapon.

Forbes' dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of purring and he looked up. Somehow he had made it out into the courtyard, and the only person or thing there was a large blue dragon looking intently at him with intelligent eyes. If he remembered the debriefing this was the blue-haired girl's familiar, Sylphid. The dragon looked down at Forbes' bellows pocket, then back to the soldier. He chuckled to himself and reached into his pocket.

"Okay, I really ain't that hungry anyways."

He offered Sylphid his apple and the dragon ate it up, clearly enjoying the taste. When the dragon finished it looked at Forbes again expectantly. He shook his head.

"Sorry there, Slyphid, I don't have any more."

He sat down, wanting to think some more, only to feel something warm on the side of his head. The dragon was purring and nuzzling him. Forbes shrugged.

"Okay, since you're here and the only person listening, I've got something to get off my chest…"

* * *

><p>Crosby glanced up from his breakfast to see Lt. Gordon sit down across from him.<p>

"Where's Tiffania?"

The lieutenant grinned and pointed across to a table where Kirche and Tabitha were sitting with the blonde elf.

"Tiff made some fast friends with Big Red and Little Blue, so I think she'll be safe from any of the horndogs or haters while we're gone."

He looked around.

"Where's Sgt. Forbes?"

Crosby shrugged.

"No idea, wasn't in his quarters and haven't seen him yet."

He glanced down at his watch.

"We've got some time before starting the mission, though."

Two maids put a pot of coffee in front of the soldiers, and began pouring the steaming brew into cups. One of them, an auburn-haired one, spoke up.

"Oh, you mean the new Outworlder? Siesta saw him this morning in the kitchen, he looked like he was taking a walk in the courtyard."

* * *

><p>Sure enough, the Zulu Squad sergeant and the lieutenant found Forbes sitting in the courtyard. Tabitha's familiar Sylphid was curled up behind the staff sergeant, and was apparently listening intently. When he saw Gordon and Crosby approach, he stood up and saluted.<p>

"Sir, Crosby."

Gordon returned the salute.

"As you were, sergeant. I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

Forbes shook his head.

"Negative sir, I was just…getting something off my chest, sir."

The lieutenant shrugged.

"So, you ready to travel to another odd country in this weird world?"

Forbes nodded.

"Roger that, sir! Lead the way."

He turned back to Sylphid.

"Thanks for listening, though I doubt you have any idea what I was talking about."

As if to respond, the dragon nuzzled its head against Forbes' chest, and seemed disappointed that he was leaving. Sylphid continued to stare after the retreating figure of Forbes as he followed Gordon and Crosby to the helipad, even tracking the Black Hawk chopper as it flew overhead.

* * *

><p>It was almost noon when Princess Henrietta excused herself from the seemingly endless report meetings with the other Tristainian lords to go check on Lord General Konrad. She found it odd that the hallways leading up to their barracks was surprisingly deserted. Except for Konrad, who had his back turned to her. She set down the tray of coffee to pour a cup of coffee. At least she tried, before a pair of hands encircled her waist and raised her high into the air, upsetting the coffee and causing her to let out a <em>kyaaa<em> or yelp of surprise.

"Aha! There you are! And how is my little royal kewpie doll this morning?"

When she was set back down on her feet she turned around, it was in fact Colonel Konrad that had picked her up. His eyes were bright, and he was beaming at her. She blushed at his sudden amorous display.

"W-why, John! You're so forward today!"

She looked down at the overturned coffee pot.

"Oh dear, the coffee!"

She looked up and saw that Konrad was advancing on her.

"Oh, that's quite alright, darling. Wasn't really in the mood for coffee, just some sugar, if ya know what I mean!"

He gave her a leering, wolfish smile, and a terrible thought hit the princess, what if she had given Konrad too much of the love potion? She started backing towards the door.

"A-are you not well, John?"

Konrad continued to give the princess a wolfish smile.

"Why, Henrietta I've never felt better in my life! I feel like I'm seventeen again!"

He pounced after the princess, only to have her dodge his advance and bolt for the door. As she gathered up her skirts and ran down the hallway she could hear Konrad's voice call out.

"Oh, you wanna play tag? Okay, you're it!"

And she heard him howl like a wolf. Out of nowhere speakers appeared over her head and the Jester's voice rang out.

_"__Welp, looks like the Old Horndog's finally flipped his lid and decided the best way to resist temptation is to give in, so to speak! Can't say as I blame him, if I had some hottie like the princess carrying a torch for me I'd hit that too, heh-heh! For your listening enjoyment here's some appropriate tunes for him to chase the princess to! Sing along if you know the words!"_

A frantic, jangling orchestra blared through the speakers and echoed through the halls as Henrietta fled. In the Radioman's tower, Alex frowned as Darden turned up the song's volume.

"Really? The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down?"

Darden shrugged.

"Eh, the colonel specifically requested it, he's just lucky I had it on my iPod."

* * *

><p>"Lieutenant McPherson!"<p>

The lieutenant was making his way across the courtyard when he saw the princess frantically waving and running in his direction. She looked flushed and out of breath. The soldier stood at respectful attention.

"What seems to be the matter, your Highness?"

Henrietta cast a glance over her shoulder and shook her head.

"I-its Konrad! He's gone completely crazy and has been chasing me all over the palace!"

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow.

"Chasing you? That doesn't sound like Colonel Konrad."

He shrugged.

"Although in fairness he has been acting odd around you."

McPherson looked directly at the princess, who blushed under his scrutiny.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Henrietta was silent for a full minute, but then shook her head.

"No, I don't."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud voice echoing across the courtyard.

"Oh Little Purple Riding Hood, where are you?! Your Big Bad Wolf is looking for you!"

The princess let out a frightened squeak and quickly hid behind Lt. McPherson. As soon as Konrad approached, the colonel assumed a more professional demeanor.

"Lieutenant McPherson."

The younger officer snapped a salute.

"Sir."

Konrad returned the salute then looked over McPherson's shoulder, and attempted to get around him. The lieutenant headed off Konrad's advance. After several attempts finally the colonel snorted in frustration.

"Lieutenant, kindly get out of the way, you're cockblocking me."

McPherson once again straightened up.

"Sir, it is my duty to inform you that you are acting way out of line with regards to her Highness the princess. As you adjunct I must also inquire as to the state of your mental well-being, sir."

Konrad paused.

"Duly noted, lieutenant. For the record, I haven't felt better in years, I feel like a teenager."

He leveled his best commander glare at the younger officer.

"Now, McPherson, unless you have traded your silver bars in for a pair of birds, I would have you step aside, now. That's an order."

McPherson stiffened up, and crisply stepped aside.

"Yes, sir."

Henrietta's wide blue eyes widened in shock, and she fled, not seeing the knowing smirk that the colonel and the lieutenant exchanged. Quickly Henrietta bolted for the Royal Guard's barracks, with Konrad in hot pursuit. The Radioman's voice boomed overhead.

_"__Aaaand they off again! Currently Cute Little Minx is taking the lead but Old Hound Dog's rapidly closing the distance and showing that the old horndog still has some spark in his cylinders, heh-heh! We're currently accepting bets on how long this race will last, personally I'm putting money on Old Hound Dog!"_

* * *

><p>Outside the palace gates, Lt. Bowles stood at the entrance, unsure of himself. He felt a small hand take his gloved hand, and he looked beside him to see Jessica smiling up at him with shimmering aquamarine eyes. He closed his eyes and tried to psyche himself up to take the plunge.<p>

"You can do this, Timothy." He said to himself.

Truth be told they had arrived in Tristainia the previous day, but Bowles couldn't muster the courage to see his comrades, instead he made an excuse to Jessica and they spent the night in a nearby inn. Now, as the clock tower across the square chimed noon, he stood a the gate, wanted to go forward but finding himself unable to. Finally he felt Jessica squeeze his hand, and he took his first unsteady steps forward.

To his surprise, the Royal Guards at the gate didn't question or block his way, at the sight of his digital ACU's they merely parted the way and stood at stiff attention. With the barmaid's help he slowly made his way through the palace. But the barracks were empty, even Konrad's desk was unattended. Then Bowles heard something blaring in the speakers. Even Jessica raised her head.

"Timothy, what is that odd noise?"

Bowles smiled.

"I don't know, but I know the Radioman must be off his rocker if he's playing a Merry Melodies tune. C'mon, let's go investigate."

As they walked down a corridor, they heard the sounds of footsteps, followed by a voice that sounded familiar. Bowles and Jessica paused at one doorway, only to see Princess Henrietta skid around a corner and run towards them at full speed. She almost bowled over Bowles as she ran frantically past, the lieutenant staggered back into a side doorway to regain his footing, with Jessica helping steady him. As the two of them stoood in a doorway they were greeted by another weird sight. Colonel Konrad came running past, whooping and howling like a wolf. Jessica turned to Bowles.

"Was that your Colonel Konrad you were speaking about?"

Bowles shook his head.

"Yeah, but he's acting off his rocker. What the hell has gotten into the colonel?"

* * *

><p>"Wait!"<p>

Princess Henrietta was cornered in the Rose Garden, all her exits were blocked. More chillingly was that none of her guards were anywhere to be found. She turned around, to see Konrad approaching.

"Aha! Caught you, you little minx!"

"Wait! Please stop, John! This isn't you!"

Konrad paused, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry Henrietta. I don't know what's come over me, if only I knew what is causing this."

The princess was silent for a long time, finally she broke down into tears.

"I-I'm so sorry John, this is all my fault! I've been putting a love potion in your coffee for the last week, and I must have put too much in!"

As she sobbed some more, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Instinctively she flinched away from the touch, but when she looked up she saw the sad, hurt look in Konrad's eyes.

"I know, your Highness."

The colonel stood up, and turned to see Alex and Agnès de Milan approach. He spoke to the blonde knight.

"See to her."

The knight nodded and knelt down next to Henrietta, helping calm down the hyperventilating princess. Konrad continued.

"Your Knight-Commander and your guards were in on this operation, your Highness, as were the rest of my men. Although I would ask that you not discipline them as they were obeying my orders under extreme duress."

He turned to go, but felt something tugging on his sleeve. As Konrad turned back, he saw the princess, back on her feet although supported by Agnès, holding him back, her head lowered.

"Will you forgive me?"

Konrad's face hardened, and he gestured to the south.

"Would your subjects forgive you if they knew what jeopardy they were in, with King Jozef of Gallia trying to declare war on Tristain and the Reconquista still on the move? What would have happened if they had invaded us; with you distracted, your chief military advisor drugged and not acting himself, and his army demoralized by the lack of discipline?"

The colonel's harsh words caused the princess to break down into tears. Lacking any decorum, the princess threw herself at Konrad, tightly hugging his waist, surprising him and everybody else around him.

"P-please forgive me, John! It was wrong of me, and it's true! I'm not fit to wear this crown!"

There was a long pregnant silence, only broken by the soft sobs coming from Henrietta as she cried into Konrad's shirt. Finally the colonel gently took the princess's chin and raised her gaze, until tearful blue eyes met tired hazel eyes. He wiped away one of her tears.

"I forgive you, Henrietta. But we had a rapport, an understanding and an agreement. Your actions violated that trust we had. It will take much to repair that trust."

He looked up at the horizon.

"And worse, those actions may have dire consequences for Tristain and the Damned 33rd."

_(AN: Well that sure was a rollercoaster, storywise and emotions wise. Kudos to_ biohazard115_ for giving me the idea of how Konrad teaches Henrietta the folly of love potions. On one had you have the rather comical scene of Konrad acting like an wolf in a Tex Avery cartoon and the screwball chase sequence that every cartoon has, on the other hand you feel just how terrified poor princess Henrietta is at being chased by the one she loves who is clearly not himself, all the while deconstructing the shipping aspects of anime. And Bowles' entrance just rounds it out. Hopefully I did it justice. It doesn't mean that the good ship KonradxHenrietta is sunk, but as with Lt. Gordon and Beatrice it does show the downside to having an anime girl with yandere tendencies having a crush on you. Next up, the big reveal on what sort of Earth Tech Romalia is planning on giving to Tristain!)_


	113. Old Friends and New Faces

_(AN: It's a short chapter, but I figured it would be an early Christmas present to all my loyal fans, hope you enjoy!)_

_"Y'know sergeant, this Romalia looks like the way I imagined Da Vinci's Renaissance Italy to look like."_

Crosby took his eyes off the windscreen to glance over at Lt. Gordon in the copilot's seat.

They had been flying for almost two hours, in that time they saw the forests of Tristain give way to the verdant pastures of Gallia, and finally to the mountainous regions that was northern Romalia.

The lieutenant was grinning broadly as he looked around. Romalia was different from Tristain; marble palaces dotted the rocky hills, there were large gothic looking structures that were probably cathedrals in every town they flew over, and in the countryside there were villas fashioned out of whitewashed stucco with clay tile roofs. The lieutenant's sightseeing was cut short by Forbes' voice coming through on his headset.

_"Crosby, I'm picking up a large port city off on our 10 o'clock. Looks like its Venicia."_

Gordon glanced off towards the coast, and sure enough there was a sprawling city with ships sailing into its port. He glanced down at the map. The overall shape matched the stylized etchings on the map, and he noticed a large spired cathedral in the center that looked the same as the one on the map. He spoke into his radio.

"Roger that, sergeant. Crosby, keep an eye open for any stone structures, the map said there would be some sort of cairn that would mark the entrance of the vault."

The Zulu Squad sergeant squinted through the windscreen. A ways off to the west of the city was a large outcroppings of tall carved rocks that looked like Stonehenge.

"Lieutenant, I see something off at our 2 o'clock."

Gordon checked his map again, and saw three stones that were of identical height on the map, then glanced through his binoculars.

_"Good eyes, sergeant, that looks like the place. Set us down over by that meadow adjacent to the rocks."_

He heard a ping on his multifunction screen, and saw two blips on the radar.

"Forbes, we're not alone, I've got three bogeys inbound, try to get a visual."

_"Roger that."_

Forbes peered through the binoculars at the two figures that were flying towards them. They were large and reptilian, with leathery wings flapping in the wind. One was blue, and Forbes thought he recognized the rider as the blonde knight that Crosby spoke with. The other two were flying in close formation, one was pure white, the other scarlet red. He spoke into his radio.

"Crosby, it looks like that Romalian knight is inbound with two unknowns. Suggest caution."

His fellow sergeant's voice came through the static.

_"__Roger that, Forbes, keep an eye on them."_

* * *

><p>"Bowles!? You're alive?"<p>

Private Alex Walker didn't believe his eyes. There was his old CO, Lt. Timothy Bowles, wearing his ACU's just as he did the day of the Battle of Tristainia. But Alex saw Bravo Six go down in flames, he thought that Bowles was KIA. Yet here he was, standing next to the brunette barmaid Jessica, with his Oakleys perched on top of his head and wearing the same lopsided grin.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, private."

Alex slowly approached his CO, and gingerly reached out and poked his assault vest. Bowles grinned.

"You're thinking maybe I'm a ghost?"

Then Alex did something that shocked Jessica and Lt. McPherson, he tackled Bowles in a tight hug, sending both soldiers to the ground. Alex said nothing, but his shoulders were rising up and down in jerky spasm-like movements. It took Bowles a moment to realize the private was crying.

"I-I didn't think I'd ever see you again, sir. I-its good to have you back."

The pilot looked up to see Jessica try to approach, and he discretely shook his head, and patted Alex on the shoulder. Finally the private disengaged him and sat up.

"It's good to have you back, sir."

Bowles grinned.

"It's good to be back, Alex."

Then he heard McPherson gasp.

"Bowles! Your leg!"

Alex turned to look and his eyes widened in shock. Lt. Bowle's boot, along with a section of wood, was lying on the ground a good foot from the rest of his leg. He smiled wryly at the private's shock.

"Well, Alex, it looks like you broke my leg. Anybody got any wood glue around here?"

* * *

><p>"He's a kid? Really?"<p>

After the Black Hawk had touched down Forbes took care of the shutdown procedures on the chopper and Crosby disembarked with Lt. Gordon to greet their Romalian welcoming committee. The Dragon Knight Julio Chesaré had introduced the younger man in ornate vestments as none other than Pope Vittorio Serevare, aka St. Aegis the 32nd, and he was nothing like what Crosby visualized a pope, even from this weird world, to look like. The Dragon Knight glared at Crosby.

"Show some respect, Outworlder!"

Then the boy-pope held up a hand.

"Peace, Don Chesaré, the soldier is not from this world."

He gave a respectful nod to Crosby.

"I have heard of the service you rendered to Tristain in holding back the Reconquista."

He looked back, and the third figure approached. Crosby recognized him as Cardinal Nathaniel Garro, who gave the soldier a friendly smile.

"And it is precisely because of the disturbing reports I have heard in Albion that I have brought you here."

He sighed and continued.

"And if Nathaniel is correct, you will not only be facing the Reconquista, but evil fell entities that they treat with. And you will need help to defeat them."

He turned to the Dragon Knight.

"Don Chesaré, if you would."

Julio gave a respectful bow to Vittorio, and turned to face one of the large stone edifices. He muttered some words under his breath, and immediately cracks appeared, forming a crude doorway.

"I thought you said you weren't a mage."

The Dragon Knight looked back at Crosby.

"The doors that hold the secrets of Romalia are still enchanted, and only the priests within the Court of his Holiness possess the secret phrase that opens them."

Julio approached the massive doors and muttered another series of words, and for a moment nothing happened. Then the earth shook as the door rumbled open, the opening seemed to spill darkness out into the meadow where both soldier and priest stood. Crosby pulled out his pen flashlight and twisted it on.

"Let's go investigate."

The small beam of light cut into the darkness but did not extend very far beyond the ground in front of Crosby. He could make out dark shapes, but nothing defined.

"I don't suppose there's a light switch anywhere." He said not without humor.

As if to answer, Pope Vittorio tapped his crozier to the ground twice, and immediately the cavern was illuminated by unseen lights. It took Crosby's eyes a few minutes to adjust to the bright light, but when he did he noticed two things that were indeed from his world.

Two large identical vehicles sat in front of him, covered with about an inch of dust. Crosby approached one of them, an armored leviathan that sat on five metal disc-like wheels enclosed in tracked treads, protected by an armored skirt, its rounded turret with a spotlight and long 100mm gun raised opposite its twin as if in some ironic sort of salute. Forbes spoke up behind him.

"Wow, they're in a lot better shape than the ones we saw in Afghanistan, right?"

Crosby turned and grinned at his fellow sergeant.

"Yeah, never thought I'd see another T-55 tank, let alone two."

He ran a gloved hand on the dusty fender, revealing a dark green paint job.

"Other than the dust they both look like they just rolled off the assembly line."

Vittorio's voice spoke up behind them.

"There is more, gentlemen."

Both soldiers turned, and Crosby's eyes widened at the sight. Forbes had less restraint, and let out a whoop of excitement.

"Holy shit, Crosby will you look at that!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant was still speechless as he stared at the rotary wing aircraft in front of him, also known as a helicopter, but other than the nomenclature it shared nothing in common with the Black Hawk callsign Brave Zero. Whereas the Black Hawk was a sleek troop transport, this craft was brutish in its armored bulk, with two bulbous cockpit bubbles in tandem on its fuselage, a massive multi-barreled cannon protruding from its chin. Crosby stared in awe at the stubby wings bristling with lethal armaments, finally taking in its mottled grey-green and tan camouflage paint job. A bright red star flashed on its armored haunches, and finally Crosby let out a reverent whistle.

"Never seen one up close before, jeezus it's bigger in person."

While Crosby still kept a respectful distance from the armored helicopter, Forbes had no such restraint; he ran up to it and reached up to open the canopy over the gunner's station.

"Hell, Crosby I've never seen a Mil-24 Hind Crocodile in this good of shape!"

The sergeant's glee was short-lived as he glanced down into the cockpit, painted a sky-blue. Seeing the instrumentation in Cyrillic, he glanced back at Crosby.

"Um, sarge? How good is your command of Russian, do you know any?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Nyet. We're gonna have to phone this one in to the colonel."

_(AN: So, it's a short chapter, but now the Damned 33__rd__ have two fully functional Russian tanks and a "Flying Tank" to boot. It was always my intention to have the Romalian tech to deviate from the source material, because the Panzer Mk II Tiger, while cool, suffered from serious mechanical issues. So I needed something rugged enough to withstand Tristain and dragons and Soviet Cold War era tech seemed to fit the bill._

_To paraphrase some of my fan's reviews, "the Reconquista they iz Screwed!" __It will be interesting to see how everything plays out. That will happen after the holidays, _

_I will be taking a few days off to let the fingers rest and recuperate. A sincere Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noel, Fröhliche Weihnachten, Pozdrevlyayu s prazdnikom Rozhdestva is Novim Godom, etc to all my fans for making this one-shot crackfic into the epic that it is!)_


	114. How To Train Your Dragon, Part Deux

_(AN: Well, I meant to get this out, but I figured first post of the new year should be something that starts with a bang, so without further ado…)_

"I don't trust this Julio Chesaré."

Sheffield flicked her violet eyes away from the courtyard in the palace at Londinium to regard her companion. The thief Fouquet had arrived from a fruitless mission in Germania to convince Albrecht III to join the Reconquista. Sheffield smiled.

"I don't trust him either, but he did introduce King Jozef of Gallia to our cause, and not a moment too soon."

She turned back to the courtyard, where the newly minted Republican Fusiliers Regiment was drilling with their new bolt-action rifles.

"Right now we have the technological advantage over Tristian, but what we really need is manpower, something that his Highness King Jozef is willing to give us."

She chuckled evilly, but Fouquet shook her head.

"To think that fool is willing to go to war just to settle an old account with the one who murdered his friend. Such arrogance is ridiculous."

Sheffield stopped laughing and glared at the thief.

"You are not getting soft on me, Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth? It doesn't matter what that fool's motivations are, as long as he delivers on his promise."

She looked back at the soldiers firing rank by rank.

"Come, Fouquet, there is something I want you to see."

As the two made their way across the courtyard to where the soldiers were practicing their weapons, Sheffield approached one who was wearing a bright red tunic.

"How is the drill coming, Sir Bromhead?"

The noble came to attention and gestured over where the group of soldiers were firing at targets.

"Come see for yourself, Lady Sheffield."

All of the soldiers stood at attention with their rifles on the ready. Sir Bromhead stood off to the side and barked out an order.

"Men! When I give the order, you are to fire your weapon as many times as you can in the time given, and will stop when I call the order."

He pulled out a large gold pocket watch.

"Present, Arms!"

The noble kept his eyes on the watch's sweeping hand, until it touched the 12 o'clock position.

"Fire!"

Immediately all the soldiers fired their rifles, then quickly ejected the cartridges, and reloaded them, firing in rapid succession. When a full sixty seconds had passed Sir Bromhead barked out another order.

"Cease firing!"

Fouquet's ears were ringing from all the loud explosions of the rifles, and the area was temporarily clouded with smoke. The noble barked out.

"All men, sound off the number of shots fired!"

The first soldier stepped forward.

"Hawkins, 25 shots, sir!"

"Smythe, 23 shots, sir!"

One soldier stepped up.

"Hook, 31 shots, sir!"

Sir Bromhead smiled at the young man.

"Thirty-one shots in one minute, that is quite the pace. Tell me, Hook, what were you before you were a Fusilier?"

The young man had bright red hair and beamed at his superior.

"Sir! I was a groundskeeper sir! It was my job to trap rabbits and other vermin!"

The noble nodded.

"Well, we certainly could do with more groundskeepers than we do potters."

He turned back to Sheffield.

"This rifle allows our men to fire in rapid succession. The absolute minimum is fifteen shots per minute, although as you can see some of my men are able to surpass that."

Sheffield smiled in approval.

"Good, but if one of your men can fire at over thirty shots per minute, then they all should."

She looked over to Fouquet and then back to Sir Bromhead.

"Carry on."

When she had pulled the thief out of ear range from the others she spoke in a low voice.

"I will not be able to make the Secret Conclave, so go there in my stead. It would appear that Lord Adluin prefers your company anyways. Give him more promises but try to be as vague as you can."

Fouquet nodded uncertainly.

"What if he should ask to be released?"

Sheffield laughed harshly.

"He requires one of the Outworlders for that, and I assure you, after this war there won't be any left alive for us to sacrifice to Him. But He doesn't need to know that."

Fouquet looked shocked.

"You mean you're going to follow through with Cromwell's plans?"

Sheffield lowered her violet eyes.

"That idiot fop Sir Percival was right, we should have never treated with Alduin, but there's nothing to be done about it now. With Gallia on our side and King Jozef's pledge of ten thousand troops, we will be victorious. In the end, when we have brought Tristain to heel, then Germania will have no choice but to join the Reconquista, and then we will achieve the vision that Oliver Cromwell had envisioned, the reconquering of the Holy Land, and the eradication of those heathen elves. And that requires the blessing of Romalia, which won't happen as long as the stories keep circulating about Lord Alduin. Which is why as soon as our victory against Tristain is assured, I intend to destroy that estate with as much gunpowder as I can spare."

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, back in Romalia)<strong>

_"__Alright, sergeant, on the panel to your right you'll see two sets of toggle switches. They will be close to the front of the panel, do you see them?"_

Crosby looked down. He had Col. Konrad on the radio walking him through the startup procedure of the Hind, thanks to the colonel's command of Russian and his Cold War experience.

"I think I see them, sir."

_"Then flip both switches into the 'up' position, that will power up the battery."_

The sergeant complied, and immediately lights winked on in the cockpit.

"The power's on, sir."

_"Alright, next you're looking for the switch to engaged the fuel pump, it should be on the main instrument cluster in front of you…"_

Crosby glanced up and saw SSG Forbes attaching one of the tank's tow cables to the Black Hawk. He chuckled to himself at the thought of a 30 ton tank being lifted by an aircraft with the lifting capacity of only 4 tons, and said aircraft being able to lift it by magic. Apparently Vittorio also knew how to cast the spell of Feather Weight. He looked back down at the control panel. There was a button with the Cyrillic words СБРОС ТОПЛИВА by it.

"Sir, I see a button, it looks like it says Cepoc Tonnba or something, is that the right button?"

Konrad's voice came through the static.

_"__Ah, that's a negative, sergeant. That would be the fuel dump button, you don't want to push that…"_

Sgt. Forbes finished securing the cable to Bravo Zero's fast-line hook and looked over to the oddly-dressed young man who was the supposed religious leader in this weird world.

"So, let me get this straight, you wave your magic wand at this tank, and all of a sudden it goes from weighing 30 tons to 3 tons?"

Pope Vittorio smiled and nodded.

"Correct. It is a spell we use frequently when our dragons have to carry heavy loads over long distances."

He examined the T-55's dark green paint job, seemingly fascinated by the tank's large 100mm gun.

"And you need not worry, the spell is only temporary."

The pope raised his crozier and murmured an incantation. Forbes raised an eyebrow.

"Is that it?"

Vittorio nodded.

"That is all that is required."

He turned to Garro and the Dragon Knight.

"Cardinal Nathaniel, I trust you will see our guests safely away?"

The large man bowed.

"As you command, your Holiness."

As Forbes attached the second tank's tow cable to the Mi-24 Hind, he got a closer look at the cardinal.

"Jeezus, what the hell do they feed you?"

A small smiled played on Garro's lips.

"As I told your fellow sergeant, I was also once a soldier. Now I have a higher calling."

The sergeant shook his head.

"Well, I'd pity the army that would be stupid enough to go toe to toe with the likes of you."

The smile left Garro's face, and his grey eyes glinted.

"No, sergeant, the enemies of mankind are not to be pitied. Only annihilated."

Forbes let out a low whistle and shrugged.

"Ooookaaaay, moving right along then."

He finished securing the tow cable and looked up a Crosby, who was seated in the pilot's chair.

"You done playing around with that?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant made a wry face.

"Trying to start this flying tank is like trying to program a VCR with the instructions still in Chinese."

"You're lucky I'm barely old enough to know what a VCR is, sarge. Your tank is secured to this Big Ugly, so I'm taking off in the Black Hawk."

Crosby nodded.

"Roger that, maintain radio contact, and I'll let you know as soon as I've got this beast in the air."

The silence of the meadow was broken by the sound of not one but two distinctly different aircrafts powering up. The Black Hawk was the first to lift off, carrying its payload away. The mottled green and tan Hind lifted off afterwards, banking to the side so Crosby could give a salute to Cardinal Garro. The cardinal returned the salute by bringing his fist to his chest. For a while he watched the two aircraft fly off, so similar to the Stormbirds that were troop transports in his world. Finally he broke his reverie when Julio started to leave. The blonde Dragon Knight was almost to his steed when he heard Garro's baritone voice behind him.

"You never told me why you petitioned His Holiness to release those artifacts, Don Chesaré."

The knight turned back and smiled at the cardinal.

"Why, to help Tristain defeat the Reconquista, your Eminence. His Holiness Vittorio said as much, that they that treat with fell entities will be a liability in the long run."

He turned away from Garro.

"Besides, you saw what sort of carnage those Outworlders can cause, I don't want to see another bloody conflict, those artifacts will bring this war to a swift end."

Julio froze when a large hand placed itself on his shoulder. He turned to face the cardinal again, and he saw that Garro was smiling, although not pleasantly.

"I know, Don Chesaré, that you pursue your own agenda within His Holiness's court. And to be candid I do not care one writ what your plans are, providing they are not contrary to the teachings of His Holiness. I do know that you lied when you first suggested it to Vittorio, just as you are now lying to me."

Julio Chesaré could feel the strength of Garro's hand, and fear crept up the knight's spine as he recalled the stories that Reconquista sympathizers told of the blood Cardinal Garro spilled upon discovering Cromwell's treachery. The cardinal continued speaking in his soft but menacing tone.

"Know this, Signore Chesaré, if your hidden agenda includes harm coming to Tristain, or the Outworlders, you will answer for it."

Julio could feel the large hand tighten its grip, and pain shot through his shoulder. If the man were to apply even the slightest pressure, Julio was certain his collar bone would fracture. Garro gave the boy a feral smile.

"…And I don't need to remind what happened those who bring harm to my friends."

* * *

><p>It was almost midnight when Fouquet arrived at the estate, cloaked and wearing the masks as the members of the Reconquista did when they attended the Secret Conclave. She was surprised that she didn't see any nobles following her inside, her consternation grew as she descended the steps down into the crypt. When she pushed open the heavy iron door that lead to the cavern the thief received another shock, she was the only one there. The fire crystal still glowed red, and the same sinister voice issued forth from it.<p>

**"****Sssso…few tonight, why issss that, Thief?"  
><strong>

Fouquet started to stammer out a reply, but the crystal spoke again.

**"****Pah, it matters not. I do not need to hear the entreatiesss of liars and ssssyncophants. The king issss too petty for vengeansssss, his desires are more bassssse than that. He, like the Foolish Little Man, will come to a bad end. But enough of that, there issss ssssomething I require of you, Thief."**

"What is it, Lord Alduin?"

**"****A time ago you sssssaid that obtaining an Ourworlder might be…difficult, and I told you of another way for my releassssse."**

Fouquet didn't respond, but looked down at her bandaged stump. The voice continued as if it read her thoughts.

**"****Yesssss, your desire to made whole is almossssst as ssssstrong as your desire for vengeansssss."**

**"****If by chansssss the Liar decides to renege on her promisssse to releassse me, then let me tell you this, Thief. I can be releassssed by the blood of an Outworlder, or by a ssssssupreme act of Treachery. If you achieve thisssss tassssk for me, then I will give you the meansssss for your vengeanssss, and you will be made whole again."**

Fouquet's green eyes flashed in desire, causing her glasses to glow. She held up her bandaged stump.

"I will serve your ends, Lord Alduin, if you return what was taken from me I will do anything!"

_(AN: And the corruption of Anakin, er Fouquet, continues. Sheesh she really should know better than to bargain with someone who's scaly and thinks humans are something you use to season your hot dogs with._

_Honestly this chapter should have been up a week ago, but I fell sick with a nasty stomach flu that apparently has been making the rounds in the office. But hopefully with the new year I can get back into the rhythm. Now things are going to be getting very…interesting in Helkeginia.)_


	115. Heavy Handed

_(AN: So, another chapter up, the next few will be fillers and then sh*t's going to get very real. And heavy. And really heavy. And heavily real. _

_GET ON WITH IT!  
><em>

_*ahem* this is why you don't drink an entire pot of coffee to wake up. On with the show!)_

"How'm I looking, sir?"

Crosby heard a chuckle on the other end. Lt. Gordon's voice came through on the radio, who had decided to remain with Forbes and the Black Hawk.

_"__You look like a mosquito carrying an avocado, sarge, but I can't say anything because I Bravo Zero probably looks the same. You're still stable, if it matters. Speaking of which, what callsign should we give your Big Ugly?"_

"We'll let the colonel decide, but personally I like the nickname Big Ugly fault for putting the idea in my head."

Forbes' voice spoke up._  
><em>

_"Yeah, I was going to go with Bravo Two since that was your callsign back in Dubai, but I like Big Ugly One."_

Through the wide cockpit glass Crosby could see the mountains of Gallia giving way to the trees and forests of Tristain. He switched channels on his radio to the long range command frequency.

"HQ this is Iceman, be advised Bravo Zero and Big Ugly One have crossed into friendly airspace and are inbound."

There was a pause, then Lt. McPherson's voice spoke up through the static.

"Acknowledged, Iceman, sounds like you've brought some serious firepower with you. What's your ETA?"

Crosby checked his watch.

_"__Ah, HQ our ETA to the Academy is about thirty mikes. Should we push on to Tristainia?"  
><em>

_"Negative, Iceman, proceed to the Academy and get some rest. You can report in at 0900 tomorrow. Colonel's got a surprise for you guys as well. HQ out."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant was puzzled by McPherson's cryptic reply. As if to voice his thoughts his fellow sergeant's voice spoke up.

_"What the hell do you suppose Lt. McPherson means by that?"_

Crosby shrugged.

"No idea, but I guess we'll find out."

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later, the Tristain Academy of Magic)<strong>

"John! Sir Crosby and his companions have returned!"

Lugo looked up from eating his dinner. Siesta had come bounding into the kitchen, flushed and very excited.

"Hey, hey, sweetie calm down and take a breath. What's all the excitement about?"

Siesta took a deep breath, then pointed above her.

"Sir Crosby has returned, and he's brought another airship with him, it's just like the Dragon's Raiment treasure from my home!"

That caught Lugo's attention, and he stood up.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's dark out."

The maid shook her head.

"No, I'm positive, there are two airships approaching the school, and they're both making the same sound!"

She started tugging on the Delta sniper's sleeve.

"Come quickly! You can see for yourself!"

Lugo grabbed his ballcap and shook his head as he followed Siesta out the kitchen's side door and into the darkness outside. Sure enough, even without NVGs Lugo could see the Black Hawk callsign Bravo Zero approaching, it appeared to be carrying something although he couldn't make out what other than it was large. Behind Bravo Zero Lugo could see another set of navigational lights winking, making a similar chopping noise associated with helicopters. He switched on his radio, hearing the familiar voice of Sgt. Crosby.

_"…__dammit Lugo turn your goddam radio on! This is Iceman we are on the approach to the Academy do you copy?"_

Lugo grinned.

"Hey, can't a body get some chow without being interrupted? It's good to hear your voice, sarge."

He heard the Zulu Squad sergeant chuckle through the static.

_"__You're going to get fat and lazy off that little maid's cooking, Lugo. Do you have a visual on us?"  
><em>

"Roger that, sarge, come on and set yourself down in the Wind Courtyard, it's the most deserted."

As both helicopters approached they attracted more attention from the students as they left the dining hall for their dorm rooms. When he saw what the helicopters were toting he called out to the students to stand back.

"Hey! Get back, unless you want to be mage pancakes!"

Several of the first years complied, not a moment too soon as Bravo Zero deposited a large tank on the ground before swinging off towards the improvised landing pad. Lugo was just barely able to register what sort of tank it was when a second tank dropped down right next to it. This time the Delta sniper looked up and recognized the other aircraft. It was Russian, and in dredging up memories from his training days he remembered the NATO callsign. It was a Hind, or 'Flying Tank'. He grinned and spoke into his radio as the helicopter gunship banked off to follow Bravo Zero.

"Damn, sarge why didn't you tell me it was Christmas in Romalia? And where can I get a toy like that?"

Once again he heard Crosby chuckle.

"You snooze you lose, sergeant. Come on over and give us a hand with the new equipment."

* * *

><p>There was a large crowd of students flocking around one table in the dining hall, all excitedly talking about the new Outworlder technology that had arrived. In the epicenter of it all Crosby, Forbes and Gordon were trying to get a bit to eat while answering Lugo's rapid fire questions.<p>

"…I'm telling you, Lugo, I have no idea how Romalia got a hold of Cold War tech, but you saw it for yourself."

The Delta sniper shook his head.

"I mean, yeah we found a Black Hawk and all, but two tanks and a gunship? This shit's the motherlode!"

He grinned.

"Man, I actually feel sorry for the Reconquista if they try any shit with us now."

Crosby's response was interrupted by someone who pushed her way past the other students and glomped Lt. Gordon as he sat at the table. Now lying on his back on the floor, the lieutenant casually finished off his sandwich as Tiffania continued to hug him.

"Relax, babe I've only been gone for like eight hours."

The elf looked up from his hug and gave him a quick peck, staring at him with shimmering eyes.

"I-I know, but I still missed you so much!"

The two NCO's chuckled at the sight of their former CO on the ground, but it was Crosby who noticed the newest arrivals, namely the pinkette and her familiar. The first thing he noticed was how bruised and swollen Saito's face was. Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Specialist, you look like a bag of smashed asshole, what the hell happened to you when we were gone?"

Before he could respond Louise huffed.

"I caught him in the bathtub with Kirche and Tabitha! It's my fault for trying to treat him like a human instead of the perverted dog that he is."

Crosby shook his head and looked over to Lugo, who nodded.

"Alright kid, let's get you patched up."

He led the Tokyo teen away, much to the displeasure of Louise. She tried to stop the Delta sniper from taking her familiar, but was herself stopped by Crosby, who had picked her up like a doll. She flailed about ineffectively, until finally he took her out of the dining room.

"Louise! That's enough!"

The pinkette stopped when she saw Crosby's cold blue eyes glaring at her.

"Now, my lady, we've already had this discussion about abusing your boyfriend."

He lowered her to the ground, although he still had his hands pinning her arms to her sides.

"This isn't just a matter of courtesy, my lady. Specialist Hiraga is a member of the Damned 33rd, and if you are constantly beating him then you are reducing his combat effectiveness."

Louise couldn't hold the Zulu Squad sergeant's gaze and lowerd her eyes, sullenly muttered under her breath about perverted dogs and naked girls in a bath. Crosby shook his head.

"Look, Louise I'm sure there was a very logical reason he was in that sitch. Did it occur to you that he might have just made the bath for himself and then those other girls came along to join in, against his will?"

Her eyes began to shimmer as she spoke in a small voice.

"It's...it's just difficult. I know I'm smaller than Kirche, not as bright as Tabitha...when they show him attention it makes me so mad..."

The older soldier sighed, and crouched down to be at eye level with the pinkette.

"Just promise me you'll be more patient with Saito, and I'll have a word with the Specialist to let him know that fraternizing with other girls is a no-go."

When she nodded, Crosby changed the subject.

"Are you doing better? I mean with the nightmares and all."

Louise gave a small smile.

"Better...I do have them occasionally, but they're not as bad. Thank you."

The Zulu Squad sergeant stood up and held out his hand.

"C'mon, I want to show you another one of our world's airships. It's even more powerful than Saito's airship."

* * *

><p>The rest of the students dispersed after Crosby left with Louise, and after the first year student Tiffania left with the other Outworlder. Long after everyone left, Forbes was seated at one lone table, still finishing off his dinner with gusto. He smiled to himself as he bit into a large warm slice of dark bread. This place was nuts, but the food was excellent, and he didn't mind being the only one there, more food for him. Or at least he thought he was alone.<p>

"Hello!"

Forbes looked up from his dinner, to find a tall girl with long blue hair standing beside the table looking at him. He had no idea how old she was, but she had to be an upperclassmen.

"Hi?"

The girl cocked her head to one side.

"My name's Illococoo, what's yours?"

"Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes."

He barely was able to restrain himself from reciting his serial number, but a light seemed to go off in the girl's head.

"Oh, you're one of the Outworlders who came from the sandy place!"

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded. Then she sniffed the air.

"Oh, do you have any food?"

Forbes initially didn't understand, but then remembered he still had one of his energy bars from Dubai in the pouch on his vest. He reached in and pulled it out.

"All I got is this stale energy bar, kid. I doubt seriously you'd want to-"

He was interrupted as she snatched it out of his hand and stuffed the entire thing into her mouth, wrapper and all. As the sergeant watched the girl called Illococoo chewed on it and smiled.

"This is yummy!"

Forbes couldn't help but smile as he shook his head.

"Well, that makes one of us. Although it would taste better if you unwrapped it first."

She finished chewing it, and with a large gulp swallowed it whole.

"Delicious!"

Illococoo looked at him expectantly.

"Do you have any more?"

The sergeant shook his head.

"That's a negative, girl. You ate the last reminder of Dubai. Not that I'm complaining or anything."

That didn't seemed to discourage her, and she sat down next to him, looking at him very intently with her large, doe-like eyes. He noticed that she had very blue eyes.

"So…ah, you related to Tabitha or something?"

She nodded.

"Oh yes! Tabitha is my older sister."

Illococoo paused as if remembering something.

"You are the one who makes the big bangs?"

When Forbes nodded, she smiled.

"Then you were there when Mr. Crosby saved Tabitha!"

And, to the sergeant's surprise, she grabbed him into a tight hug. She had quite a strong grip for a teenaged girl.

"You were so brave to rescue my big sister from that meanie Jozef!"

Forbes just grinned deprecatingly.

"Well, as you said, it was a group effort. Apparently the redhead Kirche got to use a grenade launcher, too."

When Illococoo pulled back, Forbes was shocked to see that her blue eyes were shimmering. Something about it cause Forbes' blood to run a bit hotter, and he flushed a bit.

"Are...are you okay, kid?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"I'm fine, but you know you're a good person, right?"

Forbes didn't know how to respond to that, but she leaned her head on his chest as she continued to speak.

"I know you don't think so, but you are good; you help people and you rescued my big sis. You're better than you think you are."

She looked back up at Forbes.

"I want to be your friend, Sergeant Forbes! Will you be my friend?"

Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes was once again speechless because once again she was doing the eye shimmer thingie, so he just nodded.

"Sure thing, Illococoo, sure thing."

Unseen to either of them, someone was standing in the doorway of the dining hall, watching the scene unfold. Malicorne's chubby face contorted into a scowl and he threw the bundle of flowers he was carrying on the ground in disgust.

"It's not fair, these Outworlders get all the cute girls!"

_(AN: So, it's a short chapter, and filler, but at least it's something, right? And ol' Forbes has a fan, can't wait for him to find out who Illococoo really is LOL. Next chapter Crosby and co. will be reunited with an old friend at the palace, and we deal with the aftermath of Konrad scaring the princess straight. Until then!)_


	116. Fortunate Son

_(AN: Well, work's been getting busy, so we might be going back to a chapter every couple of weeks. _

_*sound of a collective groan throughout the ZSNT fandom*  
>Yeah, I know it sucks but at least I'm not one of those guys who updates every six months, right? Right?<em>

_Anyways, we are rapidly approaching some heavy stuff, believe it or not we are advancing the plot even though it doesn't feel like we are, we are…so without further ado…)_

* * *

><p><strong>(1030 hours, the edge of the Great Forest, outskirts of Tristainia)<strong>

The quiet of the clearing in the forest was shattered by the loud crack of a rifle shot. PFC Alex Walker stood perfectly still in his prone position with his M99, his eyes never leaving the sights in his scope.

"Well, how did we do?"

His spotter, Agnès de Milan, sat up on her haunches and peered through the private's binoculars. As she scanned the target area, she felt something warm on her thigh. She glanced down to find Alex's hand grazing her bare leg. His hand shifted inward, and immediately Agnès let out a gasp as her innards turned to molten jelly. She flushed, giggled and swatted the private's hand away.

"You pervert! Didn't you say you have to keep eyes on your target?"

Alex never moved from his prone position, but grinned lecherously as his eye was still peering through the scope.

"I'd say I hit the motherlode considering I had to fly blind."

The female knight giggled again.

"That will cost you later, Alex."

As if to make a point, she leaned in a nipped the private's exposed earlobe, causing him to yelp.

"Hey! Now I've lost sight of the target."

He looked up to see Agnès smiling down at him.

"You started it."

The sound of a twig breaking broke the mood, and immediately Alex rolled back onto his stomach, ratcheted another round into the chamber of his sniper rifle, and scanned the area for targets. Suddenly a large deer with an impressive rack of antlers appeared in his sights. He grinned as he sighted the animal in his scope.

"So, babe, how do you feel about having some venison stew for lunch?"

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later)<strong>

"Really, Alex! Other members of your army have ridden horses before, and you haven't?"

Alex shook his head as he held onto the female knight's waist for dear life. He had secured the deer carcass on the back of his horse, and they were making their way back to the palace. His argument with Agnès stemmed from the fact that he was of the opinion that they were going too fast, and she was of the opinion that he was acting like a girl. He shook his head.

"No, Marty and I were city-slickers, and I never had the urge to ride a four-legged beast that's stronger than an ox but dumber than a poodle."

He paused as the horse bounded over a stream, and he swore that he almost became airborne for a moment. He heard Agnès chuckle.

"You really just need to learn, Alex. That's all."

The young sniper smirked to himself as one of his hands slipped down below the female knight's waist. After a moment Agnès let out a gasp.

"Oh! You wicked boy!"

He chuckled.

"Hey, I can't see where my hands are going, I swear!"

She looked back at him, flushed.

"You're doing it on purpose, knowing full well that both my hands are busy! I swear to Brimir if you don't stop groping me I'll have you horsewhipped when we get back to the barracks."

He chuckled as he leaned in and kissed the back of her neck.

"Sounds like a plan, but only if you do the whipping."

Their conversation was interrupted by the loud sound of blades cutting through the air, that heralded the arrival of the Damned 33rd's Black Hawk. Agnès's horse reared up at the sound, and Alex had to hold on for dear life. He swore he heard another set of blades besides the distinctive sound of Bravo Zero. After the sound flew off towards the palace, he pulled Agnès's traveling cloak out of his face and looked up. He saw the female knight had a look of astonishment on her face.

"What is it, babe?"

She looked back at him.

"I-I saw the airship that was piloted by Saito, but there was another airship flying with it!"

That caught Alex's interest.

"Really, was it like the airship that I was on when we first came here, smaller, like an egg?"

Agnès shook her head.

"No, it was about the same size as the larger airship, but different. It looked like some sort of bird of prey."

* * *

><p>After they entered the city walls Agnès slowed her horse's gait to a mere trot, and Alex's horse with the deer carcass caught up. As they approached the palace, Alex could hear music blaring.<p>

_"…__some folks are born silver spoon in hand  
>Lord, don't they help themselves, oh<br>But when the tax men come to the door  
>Lord, the house look a like a rummage sale, yeah!<em>

Then the volume lowered and he heard the Radioman's voice echoing across the courtyard.

_"__This is the Radioman coming to you live and local here in Tristainia, it is my pleasure to inform the unwashed masses of Tristain that the already badass cadre that calls itself the Damned 33__rd__ has just now gotten even more badass, with the help of some more firepower and boomsticks! This little ditty seemed appropriate, heh-heh, g'ahead and sing along if you know the lyrics!"_

The music continued as Agnès dismounted and led Alex's and her horse to the chevalier's stables. When they stopped the young private dismounted as servants approached with trays of wine and the stable-boys curried and watered the horses.

"I'll take the deer to the kitchen and see if they can't whip something up for lunch."

Agnès smiled and nodded.

"Alright, I'll be in my quarters if you want to meet after your debriefing."

She kissed him and then a small wicked smile played on her lips.

"And I still owe you a whipping, you naughty boy."

Alex grinned and turned around, coming face to face with Lt. McPherson. The private stiffened and saluted. The adjunct to Konrad returned Alex's salute and glanced over to the blushing knight-commander, who looked like she had been caught doing something inappropriate. Then McPhersons' eyes caught sight of the deer carcass, missing its head, and looked back to the private with a sarcastic smirk.

"What is this, private? Some sort of taxpayer funded safari?"

Alex recovered a bit and gave a depreciating smile.

"Just a bit of target practice for my M99, sir, didn't want it to go to waste."

McPherson nodded then jerked a thumb towards the palace.

"Well, get that target practice over to the kitchen, then clean up and report back to barracks, the colonel's got a big announcement to make about the new firepower that Crosby's located, courtesy of Romalia."

The private's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I heard it, but didn't see it. What did the sarge find?"

The lieutenant shrugged.

"You'll find out at the debriefing, private."

* * *

><p>"Bowles?! You're alive?"<p>

Sgt. Crosby had barely powered down the Mi-24 and exited the cockpit when he was greeted by what he thought at first was a ghost. There, standing on the improvised helipad inside the walls of the royal palace in Tristainia, was Lt. Timothy Bowles. He saw Bravo Six go down in flames, and thought that he was KIA. Yet, here Bowles stood, wearing his digital ACU's, polarized Oakley's and black assault vest, with the same lopsided grin on his face.

"S'matter, sarge? You look like you just saw a ghost."

the Zulu Squad sergeant couldn't help himself, he quickly took the pilot in a tight bro-hug. He heard Bowles chuckle.

"Easy does it, sarge! After all the dudes that have been glomping me it's gonna make Jessica think I've switched sides."

Crosby let go of Bowles, and the pilot glanced up at the large helicopter gunship. The lieutenant let out a reverent whistle.

"Sunnovabitch, never thought I'd see one of these babies again."

"You saw them in Afghanistan?"

Bowles nodded.

"Yep, before I transferred to the 33rd I was part of a cadre that helped integrate the Northern Alliance troopers into the Afghan army. One of my jobs was training them on flying helicopters, and since these Hinds were still plentiful…"

He looked over and saw Lt. McPherson and Alex approach. The young sniper's eyes were bugging out of his sockets at the sight of the large gunship. Crosby chuckled.

"Easy does it, private, if your eyes get any bigger you're going to be able to pass for a local here."

Alex didn't seem to hear the Zulu Squad sergeant, as he slowly approached the Hind and ran one of his hands along its metal fuselage.

"Wow, that thing is awesomely cool!"

He glanced over a the stubby wings carrying a large rocket pod and some sort of bulbous bomb on the end of the wing.

"You haven't seen anything yet, private."

Alex turned over to McPherson, who was beckoning the occupants of the Black Hawk to follow. Lt. Gordon and Lugo had disembarked from Bravo Zero. Alex noticed the bright pink in the copilot's seat and wondered why the specialist's walking IED girlfriend was tagging along as well. He glanced back at Lt. McPherson.

"Gentlemen, as much as I'd love to have a hugfest reunion, right now the colonel wants a full debriefing in the barracks, so if you'll follow me…"

* * *

><p>"You'll pardon me for asking you to repeat yourself, sergeant, but I'm afraid these old ears might have deceived me. It sounded like you told me that, in addition to the Mi-24 Hind you recovered two Soviet T-55 tanks."<br>Crosby smiled at Konrad's incredulity.

"Yes, sir, the colonel heard right. We were able to recover two fully functional T-55's. They fired up on the first try, and drove out of the cave just fine. Everything on the inside looks like it just rolled off the assembly line, and they came with several crates of ammo."

His CO shook his head.

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see commie equipment again."

Konrad then turned to address the rest of the assembled soldiers.

"Gentlemen, as you might have inferred, this is indeed a game-changer. The tanks will already be a welcome addition to our armory, given that they can be used as anti-air, artillery and close support weapons, but the Mi-24 is the real game-changer; for those of you who weren't born in the Cold War the Hind is a heavily armored attack gunship that even the Afghan mujaheddin feared."

He smiled thinly.

"They even nicknamed it 'Shaitan-Arba' or 'Satan's Chariot'. I have a feeling that the Reconquista will be giving it a similar moniker."

He looked back to Crosby and Forbes.

"Anything else to report, sergeant?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant held up a familiar looking assault rifle with a banana-shaped clip protruding from its reciever.

"Well sir, we found this AK in the passenger compartment of the Hind, most of us already have our equipment, and I wanted to get you thoughts on issuing Specialist Hiraga a weapon."

Konrad glanced over to the specialist, who still had a bandage on his face. The colonel smiled.

"I thought you had orders to keep your walking IED girlfriend under control, specialist."

The specialist spoke up.

"Er, sir, it's a long story involving Kirche and a bath, sir."

The rest of the assembled soldiers burst out into laughter, and Konrad joined in. After the mandatory minute of revelry the colonel held up his hand, and the laughter died down.

"I'll allow it, sergeant. To make it official, Specialist Hiraga is to be issued new gear, but with the proviso that he become certified in the firing and servicing of his weapon."

He looked back at Crosby.

"Sergeant, under the circumstances I think you should see to it."

Crosby nodded.

"Understood, sir."

Konrad took a sip of coffee from a tin cup and made wry face.

"Lt. McPherson, did anyone tell you your coffee making skills suck rhinoceros dick?"

McPherson chuckled.

"You're not the only one, sir. With all due respect, sir, if you'd rather have some of the local coffee complete with love potion, you're welcome to switch."

The colonel shook his head.

"That's a negative, lieutenant. Any other business before we conclude this post mission debriefing?"

Lt. Bowles stepped forward.

"Sir, requesting permission to take leave and see Jessica off?"

Konrad set down his tin coffee cup and smiled.

"Granted, lieutenant."

He looked to the rest of the assembled soldiers.

"The rest of you are dismissed, report to your respective officers for the duty roster. Lunch will be at noon, and thanks to Private Walker's target practice it will be some fresh venison stew."

The soldiers filed out, leaving just McPherson and Crosby.

"Something on your mind, sergeant?"

The older sergeant shrugged.

"I never got the full story from Bowles on the whole 'love potion' sitch, sir. Just a bit curious."

Konrad chuckled and took another sip of coffee.

"Well, sergeant, if you were curious why I'm placing my delicate constitution in the hands of Lt. McPherson and his piss-poor coffee preparation skills, it is because the means by which Princess Henrietta was slipping me her love potion mickey was through my morning coffee."

Crosby nodded.

"Professor Colbert said it would have had to have been a strong drink like coffee or wine. So how did you sort it out?"

Konrad glanced at his adjunct and shared a smirk.

"I, that is to say, we, scared her Highness straight. I pretended that I had overdosed on the love potion, resulting in me turning into a horny old goat and chased her through the palace."

He took another sip of coffee.

"I think the message was received, loud and clear."

"And the princess, sir?"

A melancholic expression crossed the colonel's features.

"I-I don't know, sergeant. We haven't spoken since the incident. To be honest I was very upset with her, doing that without my knowledge, and if that farce had continued then it could have very well hurt the war effort against the Reconquista."

He lowered his eyes.

"Hell, for all I know, King Jozef of Gallia might declare war on us because of hers and my actions towards him when he was here demanding retribution."

Crosby shrugged.

"Well, I'd say let them try, I've seen what the Mi-24 Hind does in action."

A smile returned to Konrad, and he nodded.

"So have I, sergeant. Damn me, but I do pity for those poor Reconquista bastards, I really do."

_(AN: There you have it, another filler, but things will be picking up soon, so stay tuned!)_


	117. Bad Moon(s) Rising

_(AN: So, new chapter...and I can hear the gnashing of teeth from several fans who have been bombarding me with Y U NO Advance Plot! And with good reason. But this should satisfy those who were looking for more twists and advancing of the plot. Keep in mind that this arc is a bit like a steam locomotive. For those who were not born in the 20__th__ century, the locomotive takes a long time to get up to speed, but when it does, it's rather frightening how fast the rickety machine can go…Alright I'm blanking on where I was going with this…ah, yes, so this arc has been verrrry slow to get underway, but when it does, everything's going to happen at once, so trust me it will be worth the wait. And so without further ado:_

The sun was shining on the queue of soldiers who were waiting to be served, and the midday air had a mild breeze to it. The breeze in turn carried the mouth-watering aroma of venison stew across the Spring Garden as the royal cooks served up the fare in large kettles from the palace's kitchen. The members of the Damned 33rd were quite vocal in their approval of the meal, and acknowledging the founder of the feast.

Alex had just finished whispering something to Agnès, and whatever it was it caused her to blush and giggle like a schoolgirl, when Lt. Bowles came up behind him and ruffled his hair.

"Well private, I'm glad you're still a crackshot with that popgun of yours."

The young sniper grinned.

"Roger that, sir! Like I told Lt. McPherson, I was just sighting in my weapon and didn't want the meat to go to waste."

Bowles returned the private's grin.

"Yeah, but you totally smoked the head. I mean come on, that rack would have looked great in the barracks."

Alex shrugged and reached into his vest, pulling out a four inch long bullet that was as big around as his thumb.

"Can't help it, sir. If I went for a body shot there this .50 caliber BMG wouldn't be any meat on the carcass. Just kibbles and bits."

The pilot glanced up and saw Jessica carrying two bowls of stew and waving him over to a table.

"Well, carry on, private, just remember to keep the safety on your weapon at all times."

He looked over to female knight.

"Don't want it going off prematurely, do we private?"

The young sniper chuckled salaciously and help up his shooting hand, with the index finger extended.

"This here's my safety, sir. And it also works when I'm in deep bush recon."

That earned him a swat on the shoulder by Agnès.

"Ow! What was that for?"

She gave the private a glare, but herself was trying to keep from laughing.

"That was for being dirty! I don't know exactly what you were telling Lt. Bowles, but I know it has to be smutty otherwise you both wouldn't be laughing like that."

Bowles chuckled and turned to leave.

"Remember what I said about your weapon, private."

Meanwhile at another table Crosby, Forbes and Saito were all tucking in the stew, at least the Tokyo teen and the Zulu Squad sergeant were eating. SSG Forbes was staring at the interactions between Private Walker, Lt. Bowles and the blonde girl.

"What's the matter, sergeant? Stew not to your liking?"

Forbes tore his gaze away to look at Crosby.

"Oh, no it's not that. It's still weird to see this whole 'pairing off' going on between the local girls and the men."

Crosby looked over and saw Knight-Commander Agnès de Milan burst out into a fit of giggles, then he shrugged.

"Honestly I think it's good for the both of them. The knight-commander was bit uptight, at least if Princess Henrietta said was true, and Agnès has helped Alex come out of his shell."

Saito finished his stew and spoke up.

"Speaking of the Princess, where is she?"

Crosby glanced over to where their CO Colonel Konrad was seated with McPherson and Gordon.

"Don't know, she was a no-show for lunch, and I'm guessing the colonel scaring her straight must have had something to do with it."  
>The Tokyo teen nodded.<p>

"Yes, Louise was summoned to her chambers before lunch."

He paused in his meal.

"Should we go check on her?"

Crosby smiled.

"If you want to check on Louise, you're welcome to."

When the teen blushed the older soldier put a reassuring hand on the kid's shoulder.

"It's okay to have feelings for her, kid. Just remember not to provoke her, okay?"

As Saito stood up and started to leave Forbes called back to him.

"Specialist, aren't you forgetting something?"

The teen looked back and saw the staff sergeant holding up the assault rifle.

"Always secure your weapon, specialist. That's the first rule of infantry."

Saito smiled as he took the weapon and slung it over his shoulder.

"Roger that, sarge!"

* * *

><p>Louise clasped her friend's hands in her own. She had listened to Princess Henrietta's confession of drugging Colonel Konrad into reciprocating her love. Louise had been shocked and appalled by the uncouth methods employed by Konrad.<p>

"B-but that was a terrible thing to do!"

Henrietta smiled lightly and squeezed her friend's hand.

"But I did a terrible thing in violating his trust. In a way, it showed me the just how selfish I had become and how much danger I could have put my country and my subjects in."

The princess lowered her head.

"Indeed, I do not know if Lord General Konrad will ever forgive me for what I have done."

The pinkette shook her head.

"Don't say such things, Henrietta! He said he forgave you, you told me as such."

Louise exhaled.

"Look, I know I'm not the best person to give relationship advice on. The dynamic between my fami-er between Saito and myself is still very odd, but you can make it work if you want it badly enough."

She looked up, her eyes shimmering.

"Sir Crosby had told me once that if you give the person you love a chance, they will love you in return. I know that Konrad cares for you, Sir Crosby says that where he comes from it is almost taboo for a girl your age to marry a man his age."

The pink-haired noble stood up and pulled Henrietta up as well.

"Just go to Konrad, apologize to him if you have to, but just talk to him. I'm sure that he will give you another chance."

Their conversation was interrupted as the door opened, and Louise's familiar walked in. He was back wearing the odd mossy colored clothes that Sir Crosby's companions wore.

"What are you doing here, familiar?! How dare you interrupt!"

The pinkette brandished a riding crop, but to her surprise, the princess stayed her hand.

"It is alright, Louise. And didn't you just tell me to be patient with the one I love?"

That caused the pink-haired noble to flush as pink as her hair and she lowered her riding crop. It was then that she noticed the weapon slung across her familiar's back.

"What is that ugly hunk of junk on your back?!"

Saito glanced over his shoulder to see what the pinkette was pointing at, and he grinned.

"Oh, this? This is the weapon that Colonel Konrad issued me."

He unslung it and held it up proudly. Its wooden furniture was scuffed and the metal movable parts on the receiver were worn shiny, but it was impeccably oiled and maintained.

"This is an AK-47! It's one of the weapons from my world, Crosby-san and the others found it in the Hind-24."

"Actually, it's not an AK-47, kid."

Saito turned around and saw Sgt. Crosby standing in the doorway.

"It's a popular misconception that most civvies get wrong about the Russian assault rifles that look like the iconic Kalashnikov."

He pointed to the weapon that Saito was still holding.

"In reality, what you have is the newer model: the AKMS, or _Avtomat Kalashnikova Modernizirovanniy_. The 'S' in AKMS designates it as a '_Skladnoy_' or folding stock, which makes your weapon a paratrooper rifle."

He shrugged.

"Actually it makes sense, given where we found it."

Crosby then looked over to Louise and the Princess, both of whom were staring at the older soldier's explanation. Judging by their blank stares Crosby guessed that all the exposition he gave to Saito went way over their heads.

"My lady, I apologize for the interruption but we must depart soon. Konrad wants those tanks back to Tristainia asap, and Private Walker and Lt. Gordon volunteered to accompany us back to the Academy and then drive the tanks back here in the morning."

Louise nodded and stood up. She bade farewell to the princess and followed the older soldier and her familiar out, leaving Henrietta to contemplate her friend's words. It was almost dusk when the princess finally emerged from her chambers and made her way across the palace. She paused in the courtyard to stare at the new airship that Sir Crosby brought back from Romalia, marveling at its shape and odd color scheme. She then glanced at the weapons that were mounted at various parts of the airship, and wondered how deadly they would be in battle. Finally, she turned and walked towards the wing where they Outworlder's barracks were situated.

It was dark outside, and the hallways in the palace flickered with wall-mounted torches that servants lit with a long pole. One servant was shocked to find the Monarch of Tristain standing in front of the door to the Outworlder's barracks. The young man almost dropped his pole in shock.

"Y-your Highness!"

Princess Henrietta gave the boy her best regal smile.

"As you were."

The servant glanced at the door.

"Do you wish entrance? I know that Lord General Konrad is in, I can inform him of your presence."

The princess flushed and shook her head.

"N-no, that won't be necessary. I will announce myself."

She gestured with her scepter.

"You may go about your duties."

She watched as the boy left, then she let out a sigh. Henrietta had been standing in front of the door for a long time, but she still hadn't entered. Desperately she wanted speak with Lord General Konrad, but fear and doubt coupled with the guilt wrenched her psyche apart. Finally she raised her gloved hand, trying to work up the courage to knock against the wooden panel, but then she hesitated. The princess recalled the look of reproach and rebuke in those hazel eyes, and she closed her own in shame. Slowly she lowered her hand and it fell to her side. A tear traced a path down her cheek as she lowered her head and started to turn away, when the door opened.

Immediately Henrietta jumped and spun around, only to see Konrad, wearing his ACU's and holding a bundle of scrolls. His face lit up when he recognized the princess.

"Ah, Princess Henrietta, there you are. I was just getting ready to send word to you."

The princess furiously fought down a blush in her cheeks and wiped away her tear.

"Really?"

Konrad nodded.

"Indeed, I need to debrief you on the new war machines we've acquired. The new airship is already here, and the two siege engines will be here tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I've sent Lt. Gordon and Private Walker to retrieve them."

He opened the door wider, and the princess accepted his invitation with a small smile.

"Thank you, Lord General Konrad."

The colonel gave a friendly smile.

"Oh come on, Princess Henrietta, I think you remember my first name."

He turned to one of the orderlies.

"Send for a light dinner for the princess, I believe she didn't make it in for lunch."

The princess beamed as she followed Konrad into the barracks, and felt as if a heavy burden was lifted off her heart.

* * *

><p>Though both of Helkeginia's moons were out in full force that night, a thick bank of fog rolled in with the high tide. In the darkness the roiling fog seemed to be a malignant entity, swallowing whatever light the two moons cast on the dark northern shore of Gallia. Then, a large shadow was cast over the land as scores of Reconquista-bannered airships emerged from the thick fog. An ornate flagship led the sinister convoy, and on the observation deck a lone figure was staring out into the darkness.<p>

The thief Fouquet had been dwelling on her ever-evolving role in the Reconquista, as well as the events that led her to be in this predicament. She closed her eyes. Sometimes Fouquet wished she could just go back to Tristain, beg for clemency and be freed from the Reconquista's snares forever. Then there was the voice, the soft, silky and sinister voice that was Lord Alduin, promising her power beyond her imagination as well as stoking the fires of her anger towards the Outworlder called Robert Crosby.

She thought back to that time, so long ago in Osmond's office when the lecherous old goat had stopped groping her only because the students had entered his office, summoned there because the famed Staff of Destruction was pilfered, stolen under their noses by her. She remembered almost feeling sorry for manipulating Crosby, the children she felt were insufferable spoiled brats, but she had thought that with enough time she could have brought the Outworlder to her cause, seeing how he came from a world that was based more off of merit than titles or birth.

Then Fouquet remembered the mistake that cost her freedom and nearly crippled her. In the heat of the moment, her anger at Crosby got the better of her, and she had attempted to kill him with the Staff of Destruction not realizing it was a gun rather than a magical staff, and that he taken the last explosive bullet out of it. Even the memory of the icy cold look in Crosby's eyes still caused the thief to shiver. And yet, for all the pain it caused her, it would have been better if he had not spared her life. Maybe Brimir would have forgiven the fallen noble who was born Matilda de Sachsen Gotha and her momentary anger, and weighed it against all the good deeds she performed as her alter ego Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth. As she gazed down at the stump on her hand she knew that if she met the Founder now He would not be so merciful, given what atrocities she had been accountable for.

"You have been very pensive over the last few days, Fouquet."

The thief spun around and saw a cloaked woman approach, her purple eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. Fouquet retreated her stump back into the folds of her cloak.

"There is much that will be happening in the coming days, Sheffield. I just hope it will help the Reconquista achieve its goals, rather than hinder it."

Sheffield smiled, although it wasn't a very pleasant one.

"We will do what must be done, as I have said before. When Tristain is utterly defeated, and that brat removed from the throne, we can install a puppet who will preach the holiness and greatness of the Reconquista's cause. Then Germania will follow suit, and with that foul creature gone, Romalia will have no excuse but to endorse our endeavor."

The mage looked out over the plains of Gallia.

"History will vindicate us, Fouquet, just as it will vindicate Oliver Cromwell and the other founding members of the Reconquista."

A hatch opened and a sailor approached the two women.

"Lady Sheffield, we are approaching the rendezvous coordinates given by his highness King Jozef of Gallia."

Sheffield nodded.

"Very well. Tell the captain to prepare all hands for mooring stations, and signal the rest of the fleet to do the same."

The violet-eyed mage turned and followed the sailor back into the ship, leaving Fouquet again alone. As they approached land, she could see the darkness was lit by hundreds, if not thousands of torches. The throng of soldiers that were assembled dwarfed anything the Reconquista could muster, and Fouquet was both marveled and unsettled by the large army spread out across the plain. As the airship descended the thief could discern that the roar of the crowd was in fact the soldiers chanting support for the Reconquista and anti-Tristain screeds.

After the ship was securely moored both Sheffield and Fouquet disembarked down the wooden gangplank, and was greeted by a well-dressed noble, who identified himself as King Jozef's advisor. After they finished making introductions Sheffield motioned to several large crates being unloaded by menials.

"As King Jozef requested I have 500 rifles to arm your best musketeers with, with the replenishing spell I have cast their magazines will not go empty."

The advisor smiled and inclined his head.

"You are most generous, Lady Sheffield."

He gestured towards his tent.

"Come, his Royal Highness awaits your arrival in his tent so he can discuss with you the next moves of the alliance between the Reconquista and Gallia."

The violet-eyed mage gave a light nod, and followed the advisor with Fouquet following in her footsteps. As they made their way deeper into the Gallian camp, the thief found herself unnerved at the general raucous and rancorous attitude of the mercencaries, and hurried up to be closer to Sheffield. The advisor rounded a corner, and there stood a magnificently ornate tent lit from the inside. As they approached Fouquet could hear the monarch of Gallia having sharp words with someone. When the advisor parted aside the tent flap, she found the king speaking to a captain of the musketeers.

"…I thought I told you I was not to be disturbed!"

The musketeer bowed low.

"I beg your Highness's pardon, but this couldn't wait. We have captured the suspected Tristain spies."

Immediately the king's face transitioned from a frown to a predatory smile.

"Really? Excellent work, Captain. Do bring them in."

He turned to Sheffield and Fouquet.

"You see, I had long suspected that there was a Tristainian spy in the midst of my army, recording our movements and reporting back to that insufferable brat."  
>Fouquet's eyes widened.<p>

"But the plan, if they find out-"

King Jozef held up a hand.

"Watch, and learn."

Then the flaps to the tent opened, and two men were roughly shoved inside and fell to the dirt floor. Both men were wearing ragged clothes stained in mud and dried blood, their faces covered in cuts and bruises that spoke of their mistreatment at the hands of the Reconquista-aligned Gallians. King Jozef regarded the two with unutterable contempt.

"Do you know why you are here, gentlemen?"

He saw one of the spies meet his gaze with a glare of pure venom, while the other's eyes were wide with fright. The king allowed himself a small smile, he knew where the weak link was.

"Do you know what Gallians do to spies in time of war?"

He took a step forward and grabbed the frightened one by the hair on his head.

"Spies in time of war are not afforded the luxury of being prisoners and as such are not subjected to the laws that his Holiness has put forth. Spies are the lowest dogs."

He leaned in and the frightened spy quailed under his glare.

"The way Gallia deals with spies, if we are feeling merciful, is that they are summarily executed. If we are not feeling merciful, we take them back to Lutèce, where they are paraded around the square, for the mob to make sport of them for three days. At the end of the third day, four horses are brought into the square, strong draft horses that can pull down a house with the proper kit."

Jozef crouched down to be on eye level with the captives as he continued.

"Then each of the spy's limbs are tied to a horse, and upon my signal each are set off in the direction of the four points of the compass."

He gave a feral grin.

"The spy is then torn limb from limb, and if he is lucky then he dies in an hour afterwards. If not, then his body is hung on a gibbet for the crows to feast on him until he expires. Some strong men have lasted days."

The king stood back up.

"But fortunately for you, I am in too large of a hurry."

He turned and sat back down.

"I want you both out of my sight, and if either or both of you survive, you are to tell that brat sitting on the throne in Tristainia that Gallia will no longer tolerate violations of her sovereignty. My lenient terms of unconditional surrender will expire in three days' time."

The two prisoners were still on their knees staring dumbfoundedly at King Jozef. Finally with an exasperated sigh he spoke again.

"Did you not hear me? Begone!"

Quickly the ragged couple scrambled to their feet and scurried out of the tent. As soon as they left King Jozef's adjunct came in.

"Captain, tell your men to give the two spies a half-hour's head start, then hunt them down. Kill one and let the other slip through your grasp, preferably the coward."

The captain bowed.

"By your command, your Highness."

Sheffield watched as the man left, then she turned back to Jozef.

"And what was all that about?"

King Jozef smiled.

"A little assurance, my dear."

Fouquet took a step forward.

"That might have been rash, what if those spies learned of our plans?"

Her lack of decorum was met by the king laughing as if she had told a joke.

"My dear thief, those two spies are under the impression that the Reconquista will attack Brugues with 1,000 troops in a water-born beachhead assault."

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in, but when they did Sheffield let out a wicked cackle.

"Oh, Jozef, you really are as cruel as they say you are. When our real plans come to fruition, Tristain won't know what hit her."

_(AN: dunDunDUUUUUNNNN! Well we kinda knew the Reconquista was at it's old tricks again, but this just seals the deal, so to speak. So what trickery and sorcery has ol' King Joe and Sheffield have up their sleeves? Well, keep reading and find out!)_


	118. Tanks For the Memories

_(AN: Once again, more delays for which I am sorry. But on a pleasant note this Fic has officially celebrated its 1 year anniversary, YAAAAAY! _

_*confetti and ticker tape falling from the ceiling*_

_And we have officially passed the 100K visitor threshold! Drinks and frothy mugs of G-rated beverages all around! This fic has come a long way from being just a one-shot crackfic to a full-blown ~300K word epic, so thank you one and all who made this happen, giving special thanks to Trainalf and oxopoha and Jeggetts for being some of the first fans of this fic and have stuck by it through thick and thin. And a shout out to Clevingerrr, Eclectic Electric, Deathmaster98 and Legatus Mortis and heaps of others that I'm forgetting for regularly commenting and reviewing this fic. A special shout out to this fic's Russian fans biohazard15 and Pz. VI for their input and help on the Soviet era military tech! And thanks everyone who's read this fic, including the lurkers and readers who don't fav-follow-review but read it anyways._

_Now on with the show!)_

SSG Forbes stepped into the kitchen and took in the scene as a half dozen chefs and servant girls frantically ran about cooking, picking up trays laden with food and dropping off empty plates with leftover food on them. As he made his way through the organized chaos none of the servants gave the Outworlder a second look, though in his US Army uniform and M4 the soldier stuck out like a tarantula on a slice of cake. Forbes reached into the apple barrel and pulled out two apples, one he pocketed and the other he started munching on. As he opened the door that led to the student dining hall he was almost ran into the sole soldier from Delta Squad. Sgt. Lugo gave a small grin.

"Hey sarge! Have you seen Siesta around?"

Forbes shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that soldiers from his world would go after the local girls. It wasn't that they weren't cute (they were) and it wasn't that their large eyes didn't grown on a soldier (they did), but the staff sergeant was still someone who thought that a soldier should conduct himself as one, regardless of his sitch. And a Delta boy should know better, he thought. SSG Forbes quashed a small voice in the back of his head that reminded him of his friendship with the odd girl named Illococoo, reminding himself that it was just that, a friendship. He looked over to Sgt. Lugo and shrugged.

"Haven't seen her, Delta boy. Y'might check with What'isname the head chef."

Lugo didn't rise to Forbes baiting and grinned.

"Oh, y'mean Chef Marteau?"

Forbes shrugged.

"Gesundheit."

He turned to go, but the Delta sniper stopped him.

"Hey, sarge! Just a friendly warning, Kirche was asking about you."

The staff sergeant turned back around to face Lugo.

"So?"

The grin remained on Lugo's face.

"She was asking about you in the same way that she was asking about ol' Crosby back when she was carrying a torch for him. All I'm sayin' is watch your back. Whenever that redhead sets her sights on someone, she usually gets what she wants."

Forbes shrugged again.

"She's a girl, sergeant. I've faced down several sandstorms, countless insurgents, a trio of crazed Delta Force operatives, and more recently Gallian mercs. I'm not scared of some Harry Potter reject with a big rack."

He turned to leave, but heard Lugo chuckle.

"Suit yourself, sarge."

Forbes shook his head as he made his way to the courtyard. They had arrived back at the Academy late the night before, taking Lt. Gordon and Private Walker with them so they could take the two tanks back to Tristainia this morning. Forbes sat down in his customary spot next to a tree. The blue dragon familiar called Sylphid hadn't shown up yet, but it was still early. He looked over to where two large green battle tanks were situated, and saw that both had hatches open and lights shining into them.

Even though it was still early in the morning, there was already a small crowd gathering around the two T-55's, as word spread like wildfire through the student body that the Outworlder's siege engines were going to come to life.

* * *

><p>Lt. Gordon opened the hatch to the command cupola and shone his flashlight inside. He glanced over to Tiffania.<p>

"Can you check inside and see if there is an instruction manual, or any spare ammo?"

The elf girl nodded once, and hopped down into the turret. Gordon glanced over at the other tank, and saw Alex was trying to squeeze into the driver's hatch. He grinned and raised his radio.

"What seems to be the major malfunction, private?"

Alex paused and spoke into his radio.

_"__These tanks obviously weren't designed for tall people, sir!"_

The lieutenant chuckled.

"Eighty-six the bitching, private, according to the colonel you're only slightly over the 1.75 m height requirement for being in a Soviet tank crew."

He glanced down at his tank and the hatch that opened into the driver's compartment and spoke to himself.

"Crap, I never thought I'd be so pissed at being 5' 11"."

"Look at what I found, James!"

Gordon looked up and what he saw made his blood freeze. Tiffania had poked her head out of the main hatch, and on one of her slender fingers she was holding an F1 frag grenade by the pin.

"Tiff," he said carefully holding out his hand, "please give that to me."

She looked curiously at the object, then casually dropped it into Gordon's gloved hand. The lieutenant let out a sigh of relief, then spoke into his radio.

"Ah, private, be advised I think that these tanks have a stash of F1 frags, so tell your girlfriend not to touch them."

He heard the private chuckle.

_"__Roger that, sir."_

* * *

><p>Forbes saw the blue dragon circle his position before landing lightly beside him. It's curious blue eyes looked at him, and then glanced down at his bellows pocket. He smiled.<p>

"Don't worry, Slyphid, I didn't forget you."

He reached into his pocket and produced an apple, tossing it towards Slyphid. The dragon caught it smartly with its jaws and started crunching down on the juicy snack. Forbes leaned back, watching the dragon eat.

"Well Slyphid, I wanted to follow up on what I was talking to you about the last time. See, we were doing patrol in Kandahar, that was a hotspot in Afghanistan, on the hunt for this insurgent that was notorious for laying roadside bombs and ambushing convoys. We'd received a tip-off from a local tribal sheik, that the insurgent was active in the area. So me and Norris found an ideal spot for an ambush and lay waiting."

He paused, seeing that the dragon was giving him his full attention. Not for the first time did Forbes wonder if Slyphid understood what he was saying. He pushed aside the thought and continued.

"It was rough times, it was July so we were sweating our balls off, and I remember our loot, some 90 day wonder fresh out of OTS…"

He saw the look of confusion on Slyphid's face.

"Ah…our commander was green, it wasn't Lt. Gordon, he came later…anyways, the lieutenant wanted to scrub the mission and call in an evac, when our forward scouts reported several contacts moving in on our poz."

Forbes continued.

"Several of the tangos matched the descriptions the locals gave of the insurgents, so we got into position. Our orders were to wait until it was clear their intentions were hostile.

The sergeant smiled thinly.

"Sure enough, one of them was carrying an artillery shell with wires coming from it, and was having two of his cronies dig a hole by the road, making his intentions clear. The loot phoned it in, and got permission to engage. I remember I took the first shot, aiming for the shell with my Scout Tactical. It was a perfect shot, it detonated taking out the IED insurgent and a couple of his buddies. The rest of my squad opened up, and it was over within a few minutes."

Forbes paused, and for a moment there no sound except the birds chirping in the trees. Then he heard purring as the dragon nudged him. He absently stroked its muzzle.

"Then we went ahead to check for survivors. None lived, which was fine by us. The kicker came when Cpl. Hitch found the main perp, the IED insurgent."

The staff sergeant's hand fell off of Sylphid, and he closed his eyes.

"I still remember the body. It was only half a body, because both his legs and one of his arms were blown clean off. I remember when Norris kicked the body over on its back, so we could make positive ID. That's when I saw…"

There was a spasm in Forbes' chest as it hitched.

"The insurgent was just a kid…a fucking kid!"

He opened his eyes and stared at dragon, whose blue eyes somehow were shimmering, as if crying. Forbes gestured to the growing crowd of students that were watching the tanks with undisguised interest.

"H-he was barely older than any of these kids, and my killshot blew him in half!"

Forbes broke down closed his eyes again, tears streaming down his face.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see faces…and that kid's face is one face I'll never forget."

Suddenly he felt the dragon's head nudge his own, and heard the Slyphid purring, as if it somehow understands his pain. Forbes didn't care if the dragon did or didn't, it felt cathartic just speaking about his demons.

* * *

><p>Lt. Gordon checked the notes written on the scroll, grumbling to himself about the cramped conditions within the driver's compartment. He adjusted the built-in mic on his tanker helmet and spoke.<p>

"Alex, do you copy?"

There was static, then the young sniper's voice came through.

_"__Roger that, El-Tee. Status?"_

"Status is cramped, private. Be thankful you're still growing, otherwise you might have to do your best impression of a pretzel."

He leaned over and opened the valve that purged the air out of the fuel lines. Alex's voice continued.

_"__What I don't get is why we're going through this procedure of pneumatic start on this beast. Why not just use the electric start?"_

Gordon grinned.

"Clearly you've never been around big rigs, private. My daddy drove a truck and hauled scrap iron for junkyards. His Mack truck had an air-start system similar to these tanks. Since they haven't been started in a while we don't want to burn out the electric system or wear down the batteries trying to start it."

_"__Roger that, so where is that button?"_

He glanced down at the unfurled scroll and then squinted at the instrument panel.

"That button is up and to the left, should have Воздухопуск, or something like that on it. Do you see it?"

_"__I do, do I press it now?"  
><em>

Gordon shook his head.

"Negative, first we have to prime the engine and the batteries. First I need you to flip on the batteries switch, it's to your right above the stationary machine gun. See it?"

There was a pause then Alex's voice came through.

_"__Roger that, batteries on."_

Lt. Gordon consulted the instructions and pressed a button, speaking as he did.

"Next, push and hold the oil pump button, it should be right next to the gauge. Hold it for 3-5 seconds then release."

He released the button, and heard the private comply.

"Next open the air tanks valve, it's a switch to the right, next to the pneumatic pressure gauge…"

* * *

><p>Forbes flinched slightly as Slyphid opened its mouth and licked him, he pushed its head away chuckling.<p>

"Alright, enough of that, if I'd know you'd have been this hungry I'd have brought more apples."

He heard some mechanical grinding noise and looked up at the two tanks. They must be getting close to firing up. Forbes also noticed one chubby-faced student, called Malicorne, was standing close to the tanks' rear flank and gawking. He was mostly gawking at the blonde elf perched on top of the T-55's 100mm main gun, but he also was sparing a few glances at the tank as well.

"Hey, Malicorne!"

The boy turned his attention from the busty elf to the Outworlder sitting with Tabitha's familiar. The Outworlder spoke again.

"You really should step back, kid. You're standing right in front of the exhaust port."

The student glanced at the hole in the side of the tank.

"Why is that important?"

As if to answer his question the Outworlder's siege engine roared to life with a loud snarl, belching a thick cloud of grey smoke in the process, unfortunately covering the poor student in black soot. Forbes chuckled.

"That's why."

Immediately the other students, seeing how loud the tank was, jumped back away from the other tank, only to have it roar to life.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Alex you're looking good! Now push the gas pedal down until it shows 700-800 rpms and set the throttle using that gas lever near the shifter. Give it a few minutes to warm up."<p>

He unplugged his mic from the driver's station and stood up, stretching his cramped frame in the process. He looked up and saw Tiffania straddling the tank's main gun and chuckled. Since she was wearing the pleated short skirt that was part of the Academy's uniform it was showing more skin. Not that he minded. He shouted out over the din of the T-55's diesel engines.

"Hey Tiff!"

Immediately her ears twitched and she turned to his direction. She slipped off the gun to get closer to him.

"This iron beast really is loud! It's much louder than your airships!"

Gordon nodded and leaned into speak directly into one of her ears.

"Yeah, it's older so it's not going to be as quiet. We're not going to be able to communication since this thing is so loud, you really want to come along?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Oh yes! Your transports intrigue me so much! Please let me come along!"

The lieutenant smiled at her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before crawling back into the hatch and awkwardly settling into the seat. He leaned in and plugged his mic back into the radio.

"Rhino Two-Two this is Rhino Two-One, do you copy?"

He heard Alex's voice on the other end.

_"__Rhino Two-One this is Rhino-Two-Two, go ahead."_

"Roger that, Rhino Two-Two our orders are to proceed to Tristainia and report to the Bravo Actual. You are to take point and communicate with your spotter to identify obstacles along the way, how copy?"

He heard the private chuckle again on the other end.

_"Solid copy, sir."_

* * *

><p>Forbes watched as the blonde female knight that was Private Walker's girlfriend pull on a tanker helmet and speak into it. Then the tank gunned its engine and lurched forward, its treads digging into the grass in the courtyard as it crawled towards the main entrance of the Academy. Lt. Gordon's tank pivoted in place and followed, and for a while Forbes along with the other students watched spellbound as the two T-55 roared off into the distance.<p>

Then the students all dispersed, going towards the different towers that made up each corner of the weird school. He checked his watch, it was almost 0900, and Forbes figured that Crosby's walking IED charge should be in class now, so the Zulu Squad sergeant should be freed up. As he made his way through one hallway Forbes' thoughts were interrupted as he tripped over something.

The sergeant lost his balance and landed on his stomach. He twisted around to glare at the offending object, and was shocked to see a large red lizard looking at him. The weirdest thing was that there was flames coming from the animal's tail, but what shocked Forbes was that the creature grabbed him by the boot and was dragging him away. The sergeant frantically grabbed for his M4, which had clattered to the floor when he fell, but it was just out of his reach. The lizard, or whatever it was, continued to dragon Forbes along, before pulling him up the stairs. Each step bounced off the sergeant's head, and he was getting very pissed.

"Let

_*Bonk!*_

"go of

_*Bonk!*_

"me!

_*Bonk!*_

"I swear

_*Bonk!*_

"if this is

_*Bonk!*_

"a prank

_*Bonk!*_

"then your

_*Bonk!*_

"master

_*Bonk!*_

"is going

_*Bonk!*_

"to pay

_*Bonk!*_

"for this!"

_(AN: Okay, admit it, the sight of a soldier from the Damned 33rd being dragged up a flight of stairs like in an anime is hilarious. And ridiculous. And hilariously ridiculous...Aaaand we all know what's going to happen to poor SSG Josh Forbes LOL. I have a feeling he's going to be getting another nosebleed :3_

_A special thanks to Pz. VI and biohazard115 for providing extensive info on the startup procedures and so forth for the T-55. Hopefully I did it justice. There's going to be about 2-3 more chapters dealing with the hijinks of the tanks running amok in Tristain, following by 1 filler chapter and then sh*t is going to get very real. Hopefully my schedule will permit this to happen in a timely fashion. I'll try to have another chapter up by the weekend, until then!)_


	119. Fire In the Hole

_(AN: A big merci to all the kind notes on the 1 year anniversary of the fic. I managed to churn this out quicker than I thought, although it doesn't really advance the plot and is shorter than some of the other ones, but I think you'll find it funny and satisfying.)_

"Sir Crosby! Over here!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant was trying to navigate the lunch crowd through the student dining hall when he heard his name being called. He recognized the distinctive voice and looked in the direction of its origin. Louise de la Vallière was seated at a table and was waving him over. Saito was seated next to her, and was back in his civvies. The pinkette smiled as she continued to chirp happily.

"Sir Crosby, I performed my first successful spell today!"

Crosby smiled.

"Congratulations, kiddo."

She returned the older soldier's smile.

"Thank you! It was perfect, it felt so natural and right, I can't even describe how wonderful it was to not botch a spell!"

The Tokyo teen took a bite of bread and shrugged.

"So what? You still blew up the table."

Louise shifted her attention and glared at her boyfriend/familiar.

"Idiot dog! It was a Void spell, that's what it was supposed to do!"

Crosby chuckled at the pink-haired mage as a servant girl placed a plate of what looked like veal in front of him.

"Good to hear you're coming into your own."

Louise sipped some of her tea and nodded.

"Now those students will have to eat their words, I'm no longer a Zero!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft sound of someone clearing her throat. Crosby looked up and saw the blue-haired girl Tabitha standing next to the table. She had a book under her arm, which he found odd, since normally she would have her nose buried in it. She also had several scrolls under her arm.

"Have you seen Kirche, Louise? She wasn't in class and Professor Colbert asked me to take some makeup work for her."

The pinkette shook her head.

"No, I didn't see her in Alchemy Class either."

She sighed.

"If she keeps this up Kirche will be praying for another war so she won't have to stay at the Academy over summer break."

Another female voice interrupted.

"Hello Sergeant Crosby! Hi Big Sis!"

A taller version of Tabitha popped up, seemingly out of nowhere. The human form of Sylphid, Illococoo, was carrying a large plate heaped with food, and continued.

"Big Sis, have you seen Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes?"

A small smiled crossed the shorter blue-haired girl and she shook her head.

"I haven't seen him since this morning, Illococoo."

The taller girl looked down at the heaping plate.

"I was going to see if he wanted to have lunch with me, and help him smile again. He's such a nice guy, I hate to see it when he's sad!"

Suddenly the dining hall shook and there was a muffled explosion. Both Saito and Crosby looked in the direction of the explosion, and then glanced back at Louise. The pinkette flushed as pink as her hair.

"I-it wasn't me, I promise!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Exactly 5 minutes earlier)<strong>

Not for the first time since he arrived in this bizarre world of magic did Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes wonder if he was dreaming. The oversized red iguana had dragged him a painfully long flight of stairs and unceremoniously dumped him in a darkened room. He glanced at the room's other occupant and shook his head at the absurdity of it. Kirche von Zerbst was lounging on some sort of fur rug, most of her bright red hair had cascaded over her face, but her one visible hazel eye was glittering at him with undisguised lust. She was wearing (more or less) a very revealing negligee, although the sergeant speculated that if she took too deep of a breathe she wouldn't be wearing anything at all. The redhead continued to purr in a husky voice.

"Come on, Outworlder, surely you can't resist my charms? I told you that I am known as Kirche the Mild, but your exploits with causing things to explode has stoked the fires of my passion, so I truly live up to my other name, Kirche the Ardent!"

She propped herself up on her elbows and slunk forward like a cat, causing the sergeant to scoot backwards. Forbes closed his eyes and estimated that he had about two more feet to go before he made it to the door, and mentally calculated how much time it would take for him to wrench open the door and make a break for it. He gave himself even odds that the redhead would pounce on him before he could get the door open, let alone escape. And if she succeed in pouncing on him, then all bets were off, he really didn't give himself good odds of resisting if that happened.

When the sergeant opened his eyes again, he saw that the redhead had closed more distance between them. Kirche was almost onto him, and her impressive bust was all but on display. Forbes felt a bead of sweat crawl down his shaved head, and he felt his resolve wavering, as well as feeling shame as his own hypocritical words echoed in his head when he protested his fellow soldiers pairing off with the locals. Then movement off to the side caught his attention, he saw the girl's familiar Flame was poking something on the ground. It took Forbes a few minutes to register what it was, and his eyes widened in panic.

"No! Don't touch that!"

Flame looked up at the soldier questioningly, then looked back at the sticky grenade that had somehow fallen out of Forbes' vest. Then the overgrown lizard snatched the object in its jaws and swallowed it whole. The sergeant's mind flew into overdrive as all previous impure thoughts left as his training kicked in.

"Grenade!" He yelled as he grabbed the redhead and roughly pulled himself and the girl behind her armoire.

* * *

><p>Crosby peered around the corner and glanced down the hallway in the dormitory where the explosion came from. He saw a smoking door that had been blown off its hinges, and drew his Desert Eagle. He looked behind him and motioned Sgt. Lugo to cover him. The Delta sniper nodded and carefully Crosby left cover and inched over to the room where the explosion came from, and glanced inside. His expression turned from relief to amusement. He turned and called back to his backup.<p>

"Lugo, you're going to want to see this."

When the sniper peered inside the first thing Lugo saw was Flame, who looked very relieved as it hiccupped a smoke ring. The second thing that registered was two bodies sprawled on the floor, one of which was Flame's master, Kirche wearing her purple negligee and was in process of smothering someone in her cleavage. It took another second for Lugo to recognize the person wedged in the redhead's impressive bosom as Forbes. He smirked.

"We're not interrupting anything, are we sarge?"

Forbes' reply was muffled, but sounded indignant. Lugo grinned and continued.

"You sure? Crosby and I can come back in a half hour, if you like. Or five minutes, if you need less time."

Crosby chuckled at the plight of his fellow NCO, but finally he nodded to Kirche.

"Alright that's enough, let him go."

The redhead pouted, but finally let Forbes go, leaving the sergeant gasping for breath.

"Holy shit! Another minute and I would have been a goner."

He shook his head.

"Although what a way to go."

Crosby offered a gloved hand to Forbes.

"What the hell happened, sergeant?"

Forbes accepted the hand and pulled himself up, then glanced around the smoldering ruins that was Kirche's quarters. He gestured to Flame.

"That oversized iguana tripped me and dragged me up to the dorms, and dropped me here."

He nodded to Kirche, who had pulled herself off the floor.

"Apparently Ginny Weasley's porn star counterpart here wanted some Morning Delight, something that I was valiantly resisting, until her pet lizard decided to nosh on one of my sticky grenades."

Kirche huffed.

"Flame is always attracted to things that are explosive or cause fire, but he could have waited."

Forbes pulled open one of the pouches on his vest and glanced inside.

"I guess should be lucky he didn't get a hold of my C-4, or we'd all be toast."

"Oh! Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes! Are you hurt?!"

The sergeant looked up and only saw a blur of blue as another warm body collided with him and pinned him to the ground. He felt the familiar pressure the girl pressed his face into her bust, and guessed it was his new female friend.

"Um, Illococoo, right?"

The girl nodded once, and he continued.

"Illococoo, I've already been almost smothered by a pair of tits this morning, so could you get off me?"

The blue-haired girl complied but as soon as Forbes sat up she clasped both of her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He heard Lugo chuckle as the older soldier tried to free himself from Illococoo's iron grip.

"Well, sarge you're quite the ladies' man. Didn't take long for you to get your own harem, did it?"

Forbes tried unsuccessfully to free himself from Illococoo's clutches, but she was much stronger than Kirche. He glared at Lugo's shit-eating grin.

"Sit on it and rotate, Delta Boy."

_(AN: So yeah, it's a short chapter, but it was lots of fun to write. Hopefully it was as enjoyable to read. I had the idea of Flame eating a grenade with explosive results way, way back in the 'Extremely Silly' story arc, but I never got around to putting it in there, so this was a nice excuse.)_


	120. Tanks, But No Tanks

_(AN: Aaaand once again I'm behind the 8-ball. Work has gone from crazy to nuts to certifiable candidate for the Funny Farm, and a sibling lent me Alien: Isolation so being trapped on Sevastopol Station cowering in in lockers in fear of an Alien wasn't very conducive to the creative juices. But, as I sit here stranded in some snowbound airport waiting for another cancelled flight, I've finally worked up enough to finish this.)_

Lt. Gordon wiped some sweat that had smeared his goggles. The interior of the tank was getting hot and there had been the beginnings of a cramp forming in one of his legs, so he had raised the seat and popped the hatch. The fresh air felt good, even with the goggles and keffiyeh scarf to protect his face against the dust and sulphuric exhaust from the lead tank. The lieutenant took in his surroundings. They were still in the Tristain countryside, he could see fields off to his left, and chuckled to himself as he saw more than a few of the laborers drop their implements and gawk at the sight. In fairness it was an odd sight; two large green monstrosities chugged along, belching black smoke and making the distinctive clattering noise of metal treads on stone. Gordon diverted his attention to the lead tank and keyed the mic on his tanker helmet.

"Rhino Two-Two, what's the sitch?"

Alex's voice came through the static on his headset.

_"Rhino Two-One looks like we're approaching a mountain pass, so Agnès is staying topside and keeping an eye out for landslides."_

"Roger that."

Gordon shifted both the steering levers to the 1st position, and the tank slowed down to match the lead tank's pace. Suddenly a pair of large blue eyes filled his vision, and a cascade of golden blonde hair. It took him a minute to realize that Tiffania was hanging upside down and staring at him intently.

"Ah, everything okay, Tiff?"

The elf girl nodded, and slipped down off the main gun to sit next to the open driver's hatch.

"It's still very noisy, but I just saw you pop up out of the bowels of the iron beast!"

Gordon was momentarily distracted by his beloved's bust which was thrusting itself into his peripheral vision, but then he noticed the lead tank had stopped, and he abruptly hit the brakes. His T-55 ground to a stop and sat there idling.

"What's the problem Rhino Two-Two?"

Alex's voice came through the static.

_"Mountain pass up ahead, we've got a stream on one side and a sheer wall of rock on the other. Oh, and there's a boulder blocking the path."_

The lieutenant pulled himself out of the driver's hatch and leaned against the turret for support as he checked. Through his mini-binoculars there was indeed a large boulder blocking the path. He spoke into his radio again.

"Alright, Rhino Two-Two looks like we get to test out your big gun today. Get your girlfriend on this frequency and I'll walk her through the firing procedure."

* * *

><p><strong>(meanwhile in Tristainia)<strong>

Many of the town's inhabitants had been accustomed to the odd airships that would fly in and out of their city limits. It happened so frequently that the commoner children had made it into a game, when would the airships show up which one would it be. But rumors had flown between commoner and noble of the new Outworlder airship, the Bird of Prey, they had nicknamed it. The sharp sound of blades cutting through the air was accompanied by the high-pitched whine of the turbine engines as the Mi-24 Hind buzzed one of the palace walls in maneuvers. Inside the cockpit the pilot complimented the gunner's flying.

_"That was a helluva mock strafing run, Bowles,"_ Lt. McPherson said, _"Hell you work those rudders like a boss."_

Lt. Bowles, sitting in the forward gunner's seat, checked the holographic gunsight in front of him before keying his headset.

"Much thanks, McPherson. I can't tell you how awesome it is to be flying a bird again."

He chuckled.

"I was attached to a chopper cadre back in the Rockpile, I spent six months training those Northern Alliance types to fly these gunships. Never thought I'd be in the trainee's seat though."

Lt.'s McPherson and Bowles had been ordered by Konrad to evaluate their new gunship acquisition and test it's battle readiness. In addition to a massive chin-mounted Gatling gun and the four S8 rocket pods, both of which would benefit from the mage's 'replenishing spell', on the end of each of the Hind's stubby wings were mounted a pair of AT-6 Spiral anti-tank missiles.

"I'll betcha these babies would give ol' Big Red and Scaly a run for his money."

After inventorying the Hind's weapons loadout, they had to take it out on a training run to put the gunship through its paces. Bowles had volunteered to fly in the gunner's chair, as that was the place where new pilots trained. In spite of his handicap the lieutenant was able to perform an almost flawless mock-strafing run with the Hind, leading to Lt. McPherson's compliment.

"All you really need is to be able to feel the pedals beneath your feet, McPherson. I know Alex was pretty doubtful that you can fly one of these babies with a wooden leg."

_"So, speaking of the private, what do you think about Alex and the Knight-Commander?"_

Bowles shrugged.

"Well, I'm just glad the kid has come out of his shell. I've heard word around the campfire from the Royal Sharpshooters that he's has been spending a lot of evenings in Agnès sleeping chambers. Personally I'm just glad he was able to figure stuff out on his own."

He let out another chuckle.

"I wasn't looking forward to having the 'birds and bees' talk with him."

He heard McPherson laughing, and glanced over the horizon.

"Speaking of which, we should be seeing some sign of our new tank squadron showing up."

* * *

><p><em>"Y-you want me to fire this siege engine's main weapon? The big one on the turret?"<em>

Gordon grinned, Agnès de Milan's consternation was evident even through the static. He heard Alex's voice come through.

_"Relax babe, the thing's a cinch to fire. Lt. Gordon will walk you through the steps."_

The lieutenant nodded.

"Roger that, it's real easy to do just follow my instructions. First things first: Private I need you to lower your seat and button up the hatch, I don't want you losing your head."

He heard Alex chuckle as he acknowledged.

_"Roger that, sir."_

There was a pause, then the private's voice spoke up again.

_"I am inside and driver's hatch is secure, sir."_

"Roger that. Alright Agnès, first thing I'm going to have you do is climb down into the command hatch on your left and make sure the gun barrel mechanisms is unlocked."

He watched as the blonde knight climbed down into the turret, and he heard her voice.

_"How do I unlock it?"_

"There's a metal rod, should be painted white with three holes in it right by the breach of the main gun, pull it free from the pin to unlock the cannon. There's another lever to unlock the turret, but we'll get to that later."

There was another pause, followed by a Tristainian curse.

_"Ow! I think I broke a nail, but the cannon is unlocked."_

Gordon grinned.

"No wisecracks, private. Agnès, next we're going to prep the cannon for loading, pull up the guardrail for the loader, it's right behind the breach of the cannon."

The female knight's voice came through the static again.

_"Alright, how do I load it?"_

"First you're going to have to open the bolt, which will require you to be on the other side of the breach. Best thing would be to climb up out and access it through the other hatch. You could try and crawl under the gun but it might be a tight squeeze."

Gordon heard Agnès huff.

_"Hmph! I can fit, stand by."_

He then heard her curse again.

_"Brimir Blast it!"_

Alex's voice spoke up.

_"What's wrong, sweetie? Are you stuck?"_

The knight's irritation came through the static.

_"Of course not! The cord of my headset caught on something!"_

Gordon knew where this was going.

"Private, if I were you I would stand down."

But the private continued as if the officer hadn't spoken.

_"Sounds to me like it's not your cord but you who got stuck. Try taking a deep breath and holding it."_

The lieutenant shook his head. Now Alex put his foot in it. He heard Agnès hiss dangerously at the private.

_"Are you insinuating that I'm fat?"_

Alex, either oblivious or not caring, continued to dig his hole deeper.

_"All I'm saying is you probably should have skipped that second helping of cake this morning, then you wouldn't get stuck!"_

There was a pregnant pause, and Gordon wondered if Private Walker was going to get eviscerated by an angry Knight-Commander, but then he heard a yelp of pain.

_"OW! That hurt!"_

Gordon chuckled and keyed his mic.

"Are you alright, private?"

_"That's a negative, sir! Agnès hit me in the head with something heavy! Felt like the Webster's Dictionary."_

The lieutenant shook his head.

"Serves you right, Alex. Your head is in plain view from the gunner's station, and you were asking for it."

He heard Alex yelp again, but this time it was Agnès' voice that spoke up.

_"And that's for calling me fat, you naughty boy!"_

Gordon cleared his throat.

"Ah, Agnès, could you confirm that the bolt is open?"

He could hear the embarrassment in the female knight's voice, and Gordon could almost visualize her blush as she spoke.

_"Um, Lieutenant Gordon I confirm that the breach is open."_

"Okay, if your lover's quarrel with the driver is over, we can proceed to load the gun. There are several shells racked at various parts inside the turret, try to find one closest to you."

He heard another curse, and spoke again.

"Oh, and watch out, as those shells weigh over sixty pounds and are pretty heavy. Push the round into the breach, the bolt will close automatically."

After a minute he heard her voice speak up.

_"It's done."_

"Alright, next you need to get the turret into position. Get into the command chair, which is the seat directly beneath the hatch. To unlock the turret controls there's small lever down and to your left. Push it down."

* * *

><p>Agnès sat in the command chair and pushed the small lever down with some difficulty. She then spoke into her mic.<p>

"It's done, what's next?"

Lt. Gordon's voice came through.

_"Move up to the gunner's chair, there should be a steering yoke in front of it, do you see it?"_

She slipped down into the low seat and glanced ahead, seeing a contraption in front of her.

"Yes, this controls the turret?"

_"Yep, rotating that yoke left or right will turn the turret left or right, and pull it up or down to raise or lower the barrel. Oh, and Alex? Don't move."_

She cautiously rotated the yoke in front of her, and the turret abruptly turned to the left.

"But how can I line up the shot?"

_"There is a black tube-like apparatus in front of you, that is the gunner's sight and that will help you aim the gun."_

Agnès peered through the optics and rotated the turret, pulling back until the gun barrel seemed to line up with the boulder ahead of them.

"There are crosshairs! Like Alex's sniper rifle!"

She heard Gordon chuckle.

_"Yeah, it's the same principle, just line up your shot so your crosshairs are in the middle of that boulder. If it's not lined up, adjust the orientation and elevation of the barrel as necessary."_

Agnès peered through the scope again.

"Alright, I'm ready to fire, what's next?"

_"There are two switches to the right of that yoke, flip them both to the 'Up' position. There should also be two buttons, one on the left and right handle of the yoke. The right button will fire the main gun. But don't fire just yet."_

* * *

><p>Gordon paused and looked up at Tiffania, who was still perched on top of the turret and watching the lead tank's movements with wide-eyed interest.<p>

"Hey Tiff!"

She quickly cocked her head and looked down at the lieutenant.

"You might want to plug up your ears, this main gun is really loud."

The elf girl nodded once, and clamped her hands over her pointed ears. Satisfied, the lieutenant turned his attention back the lead tank.

"Alright Agnès, before you take the shot yell 'Firing Main Gun' or something so we're ready."

_"Understood."_

* * *

><p>The Knight-Commander peered through the scope again, making minor adjustments to the yoke as the turret turned in sympathy with her movements. Finally she took a deep breath and poised her thumb over the button.<p>

"FIRING MAIN GUN!"

She pressed the button and the entire tank shuddered from a thunderous explosion as the 100mm gun fired. From his vantage point Lt. Gordon watched as the lead tank recoiled slightly and saw a cloud of dust from the shell's impact. He shook his head as he heard the female knight over the radio.

_"Why didn't the boulder explode?"_

"Probably using the wrong ordnance. Alright, I'm going to need you to reload the tank, same procedure as before, but I need you to check the shell before you load it. Look for one that has an inscription of УБР-412 on it, it's more of an armor piercing round."

There was a pause, and he heard grunting over the static when she spoke again.

_"I found one, but there's grease on the inscription, it looks like YEP."_

Gordon nodded.

"That's the one, go ahead and load it, and this time try to aim a bit higher."

A short while later he heard Agnès' voice on the radio again.

_"It's loaded, and I'm lining up the shot. Prepare for firing."_

He looked up and Tiffania, and without urging the elf-girl plugged her ears up again. Agnès shouted into her radio.

"FIRING!"

The T-55 rocked back from firing the main gun, this there was a massive explosion as the boulder disintegrate into a pile of rubble and a cloud of dust. Gordon keyed his mic.

"Private get out and survey the damage, make sure there aren't any large rocks that could trip up our tanks."

_"Roger that."_

The lieutenant watched as Alex climbed out of the tank and stretched his cramped legs. After a few minutes the private emerged from the dust cloud and gave the thumbs up.

_"Everything looks A-Ok, sir. No large rocks or obstacles we can't go over."_

Gordon nodded.

"Alright private, just be careful if you see a rock that's bigger than a breadbox make sure to drive over it with one track, otherwise you'll get high-centered."

More smoke belched out of the lead tank's exhaust port as it rumbled forward. As the tank disappeared into the dust cloud Gordon started to climb back into the driver's compartment when he heard a loud cry of apprehension. He looked back and saw Tiffania pointing upwards.

"The rocks! It's an avalanche!"

The officer spoke urgently into his radio.

"Private there's an avalanche, you better punch it or you'll be buried under a pile of rocks!"

He heard no response other than a deafening crash as several tons of rock cascaded into the pass. Four long minutes passed as an icy feeling stabbed Lt. Gordon's gut.

"Alex, are you alright?"

Nothing greeted him but static. He spoke again, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

"Rhino Two-Two, sound off!"

To Gordon's immense relief he heard PFC Alex Walker chuckle on the radio.

_"Rhino Two-One this is Rhino Two-Two, we're fine, we're fine. Thanks to my mad driving skills we were able to get clear of the falling rocks."_

His next comment seemed aimed at Agnès.

_"Nice shooting there sweetie, you just triggered an avalanche."_

Gordon pulled out his binoculars and ignored a yelp of pain that probably came from the private. Something caught his eye and he keyed his mic.

"Alright private, change of plans. You continue on course as planned."

_"What about you, El-Tee?"_

"There's a bridge about half a klick to the south, we will cross that bridge that we can bypass the rockslide. It might take us off course for a few klicks but we will RV at Tristainia's gates, understood?"

_"Roger that."_

Gordon climbed back down into the driver's seat and disengaged the brake, pulling the left steering lever one notch forward, causing his tank to rotate in place. He then let off the clutch and gunned the engine, causing his tank to lurch forward and belch more black exhaust. As the old stone bridge came into view Gordon spoke into his radio.

"Be advised, Rhino Two-Two, we are crossing the bridge."

He didn't hear a reply, but in fairness Alex could have already been out of range. Slowly Gordon pushed the throttle forward and Rhino Two-One crossed the bridge, and the lieutenant watched through the open hatch nervously looking for cracks in the masonry. He listened closely as the tank slowly rumble forward, its treads clattering. A cracking noise caught his attention, and he heard Tiffania let out a frightened squeak.

"James! There are small cracks in the bridge opening behind us!"

Gordon cursed as he heard water splashing below as several chunks of masonry fell into the stream. He heard the elf-girl's scared voice.

"What was that!?"

Gordon smiled and shouted over the din of the tank's engines.

"Nothing, sweetie, we'll keep moving forward."

Finally the tank made it across, and the lieutenant pulled himself out of the driver's seat to look up at Tiffania, whose blue eyes were wide with fright.

"See, nothing to it."

But the elf-girl was too busy staring wide-eyed behind her. Wordlessly she pointed, and Gordon looked on, his smirk disappeared and was replaced by a look of horror. There was a splintering sound as more fissures cracked around the bridge's masonry, then with a rumble it collapsed into the river in a shower of dust and spray. Tiff spoke up.

"What do we do?"

Gordon shrugged and climbed back into the driver's seat.

"Keep moving."

Tiffania shook her head.

"B-but what about the bridge?"

Gordon glanced at the wreckage and shrugged again.

"Must have been Reconquista sabotage."

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile)<strong>

Alex tried peering through the viewport again and cursed. They had buttoned up Rhino Two-Two because of the dust cloud kicked up by the shattered boulder, and both the private and the knight wanted the one metre of armored steel between them and any more falling rocks that might have been dislodged by the blast.

"Hey, I still can't see anything, how about you?"

"Hold on, I'm still trying to cut through the dust."

Suddenly he heard her babble quickly and almost unintelligibly.

_"Cart! Look out!"_

The private froze and didn't understand, but then a dark shape started to take shape in the dust, and at the last minute he saw a hay-cart with a broken wheel. The farmer looked frightened, but when a large green beast with a long snout comes snarling out of a cloud of dust it would frighten anyone. Alex only had seconds to react, and he quickly pulled the left control stick back and pushed the right one forward, causing the tank to lurch as it awkwardly turned away from the cart. It was a small miracle that it didn't throw one of the treads off, but Alex's relieve was short-lived. He heard Agnès' panicked voice on the radio.

_"Fence! You idiot watch out for the-"_

Too late, Alex saw the fence only seconds before his tank smashed through it and into a grazing pasture. As he struggled to get control of the tank, Alex didn't realize that there were other inhabitants in this field. A large black bull, who was appropriately named Bête Noire by his owner the farmer, was rather annoyed at present. There was some large, noisy green creature that had trespassed on his pasture, and was frightening his herd of females. A small part of Bête Noire was in awe at the creature; he had never seen one like this before. He stared as it crawled at a snail's pace and had a long protruding snout, but it matter not, he would not back down from a challenge to his status as an alpha male. Bête Noire snorted and lowered his head, pawing the earth in preparation to charge.

"We have to go back and apologize to that farmer for smashing his fence!"

Agnès was furious, not just at Alex but at herself for her momentary lapse of judgement. She was still looking through the command periscope trying to find a way out of the pasture that didn't involve smashing more fence.

"Do you realize that it's repair will have to come out of the royal coffers and-"

Something caught her eye and she let out a frightened 'Eep!' The private was fighting the controls of his tank and trying to prevent it from getting bogged down in the soft, spongy earth, when he heard the uncharacteristic squeak from Agnès.

_"Sweetie, I didn't catch that last, say again?"_

Agnès' eyes widened as a large black bull lowered its head and was pawing the earth, in preparation for burying its horns into the tank's side. She spoke rapidly into her radio.

"I said, 'Alex you really REALLY need to make this thing going faster, NOW!"

Alex pushed down on the throttle, and glanced at the speedometer and the tachometer.

"What the hell are we fleeing anyways? Another dragon?"

As if to respond there was a loud clang that emanated from the T-55's rear flank, as if something had scored a glancing hit. Agnès peered through the periscope again and sighed to herself. Outside as the tank lumbered away Bête Noire sat dazed on his haunches as stars danced before his eyes. He felt like he just rammed a stone wall. Just what was that giant armored beast doing in his field?

_(AN: You didn't think I was going to have a couple of Soviet tanks traveling through the Tristainian countryside without having some hilarity ensuing, did you? Props again to biohazard115 for his help in getting the controls and firing procedures of a T-55. Honestly when I was stubbing out the hijinks I had "Yackety Sax" on the brain, thanks to a 'Benny Hill' marathon on Netflix. And at some point the Damned 33rd will find out who those tanks belonged to (hint: that book Agnès hit Alex with was a diary) so there will be an interlude/flashback chapter detailing that. Might happen before the War, but if it does it will only be one chapter, I promise.)_


	121. Blast From the Past

_(AN: So I know I'm behind, I've been on the road last week and this week I've been stranded in Dallas with snow and ice, but at least I've finally got some time to churn out this chapter. Fair warning, there's more blatant shipping and slow moving of the plot, and there will be another interlude, as we find out who these tanks belonged to.)_

"This is HQ calling Rhino Two-Two, do you copy?"

Lt. McPherson paused as he saw Gordon looking at him. It had been almost an hour since Lt. Gordon had arrived with the 1st T-55 tank into Tristainia, and had explained that due to a rockslide they had been separated from Rhino Two-Two, driven by PFC Alex Walker and his girlfriend Agnès de Milan. Since then there had been no radio contact. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"Shit, I knew we shouldn't have split up."

He looked up and saw his fellow officer pacing nervously.

"What if something happened to them? We should get Bowles up there with Big Ugly and do some recon."

McPherson chuckled.

"Cool your jets, Jimmy. I'm sure they're fine. They probably just got waylaid."

He keyed the mic to the long range radio and spoke again.

"Repeating, this is HQ calling Rhino Two-Two, how copy?"

There was a long pause as only static answered the lieutenant's hails. Then after five minutes a voice came through, very faint.

_"…__this is Rhino Two-Two transmitting in the blind to HQ, do you copy? Repeating this is Rhino Two-Two, how copy?"_

Without skipping a beat McPherson shrugged.

"See? Told ya."

He keyed his mic again.

"Rhino Two-Two this is HQ, good to hear your voice. What's your sitch?"

_"Ah, HQ be advised Rhino Two-Two has been sidetracked but we are back on track and inbound, ETA estimated thirty mikes."_

* * *

><p>It was almost dusk when the two young officers stood at the gates of the palace, waiting for the wayward tank to show up. The guards at the city gates had reported a large wheeled monstrosity with a long-barreled cannon had entered the city, so McPherson and Gordon had decided to greet Rhino Two-Two as it entered the palace.<p>

Both of them heard the rumble of the twin diesel engines and the distinctive clatter of tank treads on cobblestones. Then road was illuminated by a single beam of bright light, and the wayward T-55 came into view, and both officer's jaws dropped. The sight of the tank wasn't the cause of their surprise, it was what on the tank.

The T-55 tank was covered in a fine coating of dust, with fragments of wood and brick dangling off the turret and 100mm gun barrel, it also was pulling the remains of what looked like a chicken coop behind it. It ground to a halt, and stood there idling. Then the command hatch at the top of the turret opened, and a chicken flew out squawking in a shower of feathers. Knight Commander Agnès de Milan pulled herself out of the hatch, her usually immaculate white traveling cloak was stained as she brushed a few stray feathers off. As she hopped down off the turret McPherson noticed that her face was smudged with grease and she reeked of diesel fumes and the acrid stink of propellant. She tried to come to attention and bowed.

"Lieutenant McPherson, I apologize for the delay, as the navigator I take full responsibility for us getting lost and being delayed."

McPherson traded a look with Lt. Gordon and smiled.

"As you were, Knight-Commander. Where is Private Walker?"

As if on cue the driver's hatch popped open and a very sheepish-looking private pulled himself out and tumbled off the fender. He came to attention and saluted.

"Private First Class Walker reporting in with war asset, sir!"

McPherson smiled again and returned the salute.

"Roger that, private. Looks like you two had quite an adventure."

Alex looked back at the tank.

"That's an affirmative, sir. We, ah, had to take a few shortcuts."

Agnès stepped forward.

"Sir, I would like to get cleaned up before reporting to her majesty Princess Henrietta, by your leave?"

McPherson nodded.

"Dismissed, Knight-Commander. We'll take it from here."

Alex started to speak but was interrupted by the blonde knight grabbing him by his ear and leading him to the barracks.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

She gave the private a sidelong glance.

"I am not letting you report to Lord Konrad in this state. You're coming with me and getting cleaned up, you're filthy!"

Alex shot a pleading look to Lt. McPherson, who grinned.

"Not getting in the middle of that, private. And for the record the Knight-Commander is right, you could use a good cleaning."

Both officers watched in amusement as Agnès dragged Alex off to the palace, listening to the private protest.

"OW! You're still not mad at me for calling you fat, are you?"

His subsequent yelp told both McPherson and Gordon that the knight commander was, in fact still mad at him. McPherson turned back to his fellow officer, grinning.

"Young love is a wonderful thing, isn't it, Lt. Gordon?"

Gordon shook his head.

"Wouldn't know about that, McPherson. C'mon, let's get this thing cleaned up and back with the rest of our hardware."

* * *

><p>"I said ow! Let go!"<p>

Finally Private Walker had had enough and wrenched himself free from the blonde knight's grasp. As he rubbed his sore ear he noticed they were in some sort of bathing house. There were tubs of grey marble set into the floor, and a bright mosaic of the two moons decorated the far wall. Each bathing area was separated by archways and columns of pink marble, and cobalt tiles covered the floor and walls. There was a bank of steam that permeated the entire area.

"Where are we?"

"We are in the Thermae Bangiore, which is normally restricted to visiting royalty, nobles and their ambassadors, however I'm making an exception since a simple washbasin isn't going to do the job."

Alex turned and noticed Agnès unclasping her traveling cloak. She pulled it off and ran a hand over the once pristine cloth now stained with grease, then sighed.

"Oh dear, I fear this is ruined."

She tossed the cloak into a laundry basket and began undoing the side buttons on her tunic/dress and glanced over to Alex.

"Get out of those filthy clothes and put them in that basket so the servant girls can clean them."

Alex stared as Agnès stripped off her dusty dress, greaves, boots and underclothes, until finally she stood before him naked. She coolly regarded the young soldier's ogling, and folded her arms.

"So, enjoying the view, are you Alex?'

He pulled his tee over his head and grinned salaciously.

"Oh, I'm enjoying it alright!"

Then a large towl obscured his vision, and he felt a thump on the side of his head.

"But you still think I'm fat, don't you?"

Alex pulled the towel off his head and chuckled.

"Man you aren't going to let that go, are you?"

Agnès huffed and turned to pick up a bucket of soapy water and a bathing mitt. When she bent over the young soldier couldn't resist, he reached out and goosed her bare rump. The blonde knight yelped and straightened up, flushing.

"Nope," he said as she glared at him, "I don't think you're fat. Just enough cushion for the pushing, so to speak."

That earned him another cuff on the side of the head.

"Dirty boy! Get your mind out of the privy, we're going to get you cleaned up good and proper."

Alex's grin vanished as he glanced at the steaming bath next to him.

"Why do I not like the sound of that?"

* * *

><p>Lt. Bowles was munching on a crisp red apple as he made his way into the main courtyard of the palace where the two newest additions to the Damned 33rd's arsenal were located. He still couldn't get over how two Soviet T-55 tanks managed to end up here in Helkeginia. As he approached the closest tank he saw several servants were in the process of scrubbing the green paintwork of dust and, more curiously, feathers. Still watching the cleanup of Rhino Two-Two, he sidled up to the supervising officer.<p>

"Sounds like the private and his girlfriend got into some real hijinks on the way back here."  
>Gordon chuckled to himself.<p>

"Yeah, if Knight-Commander Agnès was correct then we owe a couple of farmers some fence, a barn and a chicken house. Still, it could have been worse."

Bowles approached the tank and ran a gloved hand over the fender. At the back of the tank was a crate, which he gestured at.

"What's in there?"

Gordon shrugged.

"Just stuff that was inside, since the servants were cleaning feathers and chickenshit I told them to get anything that wasn't nailed down out."

Bowles rifled through the crate, curious. There was a Makarov pistol and two spare mags, a small box of grenades, but the thing that caught the lieutenant's eye was a large, leatherbound book. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. There was writing on the pages, hand-written in what looked like Russian Cyrillic.  
>"What's this?"<p>

Gordon shook his head.

"No idea. Probably a log book or something. Obviously it belonged to one of the tank crew-members."

Bowles shut the book and stood up.

"Maybe we should take this to the colonel, he can speak and read Russian, maybe he can tell where this tank came from."

* * *

><p>Alex winced as the stiff bristles of the scrub brush raked across his skin. It felt like someone was taking a belt sander to the back of his neck.<p>

"Ow! Hey that hurts!"

The private was up to his chest in hot, soapy water in one of the baths and Agnès was perched behind him doing the scrubbing. It took a great deal of effort to get the private into the bath, and it was taking even more effort to clean him. She snorted.

"If you would quit squirming so much this wouldn't hurt. Brimir's Beard you're grimy! When was the last time you took a bath?!"

"Hey, give me a break, in Dubai water was scarce enough to where bathing was a no-go!"

She had dismissed the female attendants who seemed more than happy to help, and they left with the hamper of dirty clothes, crestfallen. This had left the knight-commander with the task of cleaning Alex. She was in the process of scrubbing the grime off his neck and shoulders, which was proving to be more difficult than she thought. She grunted as Alex sloshed to one side in the bath, and slapped him with the bathing mitt in her other hand.

"Will you stop squirming about so much?! Honestly you're worse than a child!"

Agnès didn't see the sly smile on the private's face as she leaned over Alex's head to clean the front of his neck. Suddenly quick as lightening the young soldier grabbed both her hands and pulled her head over heels into the bath with a squeal and a loud splash. She came up a moment later spluttering soapy bubbles a few seconds later, glaring at the smirking private.

"You…you immature, insolent boy!"

She threw the brush at Alex's head in frustration, which he dodged readily. He then scooted forward in the bath and grabbed her bare shoulders glistening with soapy water, then leaned in and gave her a kiss on the lips. She fought Alex only briefly, before her eyes shimmered and she closed them, returning the kiss as she wrapped her own arms around him.

* * *

><p>Colonel Konrad glanced up from his paperwork to the leather-bound book that Lt. Bowles dropped on his desk.<p>

"And what am I looking at here, lieutenant?"

Bowles smiled.

"Well, we found it in one of the tanks, sir. And it's in Russian, so we were hoping you could shed some light on it."

The colonel shrugged and picked up the book.

"Well, it's probably just a mission or training log book, so it's probably nothing interesting."

Konrad opened the book and glanced at the first couple of pages. Suddenly he stopped, and his eyes widened as he stared at a page, then he began flipping through the pages at a rapid pace.

"What's wrong, sir?"

Bowles' CO didn't seem to hear him as he spoke to himself.

"It was the fall of `78, I think, I have to check to be sure."

Lt. Bowles was dumbfounded as he watched Col. Konrad flip through the pages and check the dates. Then Konrad stopped, and looked up pointedly at the lieutenant standing in front of him.

"This book belonged to one Senior Lieutenant Bylinkin, and believe it or not, I knew him."

_(AN: Sooo not much progress in the story here, just more AngesXAlex and a hook into the interlude which will show who these tanks belonged to. That should only be one chapter, and I promise afterwards things will go into overdrive, so I appreciate your patience. These last couple of weeks have been terrible as I have been on the road almost nonstop, hence the lack of updates. Although the next updates should come quicker now that I have almost completely stubbed out the battle chapters. Until then, hope you've enjoyed the ride thus far, and thank you to everyone who's been reading, following and commenting!)_


	122. Diary of Lt Bylinkin: Sept 1978 Entry

_(AN: Okay, so this is one of three diary entries that Konrad will be reading out loud, it is important to understand that the author of this diary is a young, idealistic if somewhat inexperienced Soviet officer. His views and the views of his squaddies should be taken in the context of the Cold War. Also since this is a diary he will be jumping all over the place WRT past and present tense. Also part deux since he is a Russki there will be gratuitous amounts of Russian sprinkled throughout this chapter and various slang words and pop culture references that will only make sense to a fellow Russki.)_

**Monday, September 25th, 1978**

It is my second month here at base, and finally I am getting settled in. Training the new Afghan National Army is still painfully slow, but it helps that I have good officers and NCO's in my cadre. My _Starshina_ is a veteran NCO named Mikhail Papanov, and he is well-experienced in the art of tank warfare. Initially he was a bit gruff with me, no doubt because many of the officers who transferred with me have taken to calling him 'Dinosaur', but we soon bonded over our mutual admiration for the T-55.

He spoke me one afternoon as we were eating our rations in the courtyard of our base. We had just finished another training session with the tanks, and now we were breaking for lunch whilst sitting on the fender of our own tank.

"_Starley_" he said as he gestured to the T-55 we were assigned to, "This so-called dinosaur is worth ten of those new-fangled contraptions with their autoloaders and electronics."

He gave the tank's fender an affectionate pat.

"These tanks saved our arses when we were trying to teach Syrians tank warfare in the Golan Heights back in `73."

He ate another spoonful of _tushonka_ and pointed with his utensil to a deep scar that ran from his forehead down to his jaw.

"I got this beauty mark from a Zionist tank crew, knocked our T-54 out of the game, but she saved our lives in the process."

The old sergeant shook his head.

"Now they want us to train these Afghans to fight, but I'm afraid that these goat-herders aren't going to take to modern warfare any better than Syrian sheep-herders."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden burst of music, some sort of disco tune with a girl asking to take a chance on her. The sergeant frowned and turned around. At the back of another tank another soldier had both engine compartment hatches open and was turning a wrench, while a battered portable record turntable continued to blare out a bouncy disco tune. My _Starshina_ shouted over the din.

"What is that infernal racket? Turn that shit down, Petya!"

My _Prapor_, a young officer by the name of Pyotr Mironov, is also a competent tanker and knows the inner workings of a tank like a watchmaker knows his favourite pocket watch. But he is also young and brash, and has horrible taste in music. I'm sure the _Zampolit_ would not approve of the officers under his charge listening to Abba, but in fairness it could be worse, he could have developed a taste for that degenerate bourgois rock music from the West. Petya also likes to rib the sergeant, who apparently takes it in good humor. The _Prapor_ turned down his music and grinned.

"What's wrong Misha? No taste for good music?"

The old sergeant chuckled.

"If that is good music then I'm the tsar's illegitimate heir. Give me some classic Borodin, or Mussorgsky any day over that modern shit."

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, September 26th, 1978<strong>

Something very odd happened this morning as I was perusing the marketplace for some more classic records for my _Starshina_. The bazaar here in Kabul is something else, street after street of vendors hawking all sorts of goods, everything from brightly coloured silk rugs to woolen jumpers and tea. I even passed one vendor who had dozens of small birds chirping in cages. As I paused at one stall that was selling bootleg LP's, a street urchin bumped into me, it was only a few seconds after he took off that I realized the little _shket_ stole my wallet.

"Stop, thief!" I shouted out, but nobody stopped the little brat. I ran after him, but I could see that he was almost to an alleyway, and if he got there I would never find him in the warrens. In desperation I shouted out again.

This time, a young man about my age grabbed the urchin by his wrist and wrenched the wallet of out his hand. He then let go of the boy, who disappeared into the alley, and looked up at me.

"Does this belong to you?"

I nodded, and accepted my wallet back. I found it odd that although the young man spoke Russian, his accent seemed off.

"Thank you, comrade, I was certain that little _shket_ was going to make off with my monthly pay."

I accepted the wallet back and checked to make sure the money was still there.

"You'll forgive me for asking this, but are you from Lithuania? The reason I ask is because of your accent."

The young man grinned deprecatingly.

"Actually I'm from Illinois."

He held out a hand.

"The name's 2nd Lieutenant John Konrad, I'm an adjunct to the military attaché at the embassy."

Immediately I became suspicious, as any good Soviet soldier would be. The capitalist Yankees are a perfidious bunch of spies, if what our _Zampolit_ says is true. Still, he did recover my wallet so manners were important.

"I am Senior Lieutenant Vasiliy Ivanovich Bylinkin, and I thank you for recovering my wallet, although I am surprise that an American would speak the mother tongue."

The young officer called Konrad smiled again.

"Well, it is easier to speak that the myriad of other dialogues the locals speak, and it was a nice challenge."

I nodded, and pulled a few rubles out of my wallet and offered it to him.

"You have my thanks for recovering my wallet, Lieutenant Konrad, here is a reward for your services."

The young American seemed puzzled at my offer of money, and to my great surprise, refused it.

"Don't mention it, I'm just glad to have helped."

He looked over his shoulder at two men in impeccable blue suits.

"Oops, looks like the Ambassador's gotten out of his meeting. Gotta run!"

And with that, the young officer took off, leaving me puzzled. What sort of capitalist Yankee refuses money?

Later, when I recounted what happened to my _Starshina_, he just shook his head and chuckled.

"_Molodoy_, there is much about the Yankees that we can't understand. Our _Zampolit_ and the _Politburo_ would have you believe that they are greedy superstitious capitalists oppressing the poor and keeping them ignorant, but I'm sure the Yankee soldiers say the same thing about us. It's the nature of this cold war."

He took another bite of _kasha_ and shrugged.

"As for the soldiers, I remember my father telling me stories of the Great Patriotic War, and how he encountered some American GI's in Berlin."

He chuckled again.

"Back then we were allies fighting against the Fascists, you know. At any rate my father told me how shocked he was when he found that the Americans were just like him; young, earnest soldiers who had pictures of their sweethearts in their wallets and keepsakes from their parents. This Ivan Konradovich situation sounds similar."

He tossed his empty ration tin in the garbage bin and yawned.

"Come on, it's going to be an early morning tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep."

* * *

><p><strong>Early morning Wednesday, September 27th 1978<strong>.

Even as I write this down, I still do not believe it. My watch tells me that it is 0235, my squaddies are asleep again, but even as I recall the details I do not know what to think of it. This…dream I had, although it was so real I am not sure what to call it.

I dreamed I was asleep in my bunk, but was awakened by the sound of a feminine voice singing softly in a language that was beautiful, though I knew not the words. When I opened my eyes I saw who was singing, and it took my breath away. There was a lady standing in our barracks, but to it was almost an injustice just to call her a mere 'lady' would be an insult, she was almost angelic in her otherworldly beauty. She was tall, slender and graceful in her movements as she made her way over to my bunk. Her skin was pale and luminescent, her garment was some sort of dress that was made of filmy thin material like gauze that rustled as she sat down on the edge of my sleeping rack. If I were the best artist in all of the Motherland I could not replicate the beauty in that radiant face, nor could I recapture the beauty of her large eyes that were the deepest green of a forest. Those beautiful eyes looked at me, and they seemed to be able to read my deepest, most innermost thoughts. Finally she spoke, in that same soft melodious voice.

**_"_****_Do not be afraid, I mean you no harm."_**

It was then that I noticed that her long tresses were the same emerald green as her eyes, and it reminded me of fairytales my grandmother would tell me. The beautiful creature before me smiled, as if she were reading my mind.

**_"_****_Do you know who I am, Vasiliy Ivanovich Bylinkin?"_**

I managed to stammer out a response.

"Are you a _rusalka_, or some sort of fairy?"

She responded by covering her mouth and giggling musically, as if I had just told a joke.

**_"_****_No, but who I am is just as fantastic, and my kind is older than the forest and mountains themselves. I am the One who weaves the Tapestry of Fate, and for your fate is the reason I have come."_**

The lady reached out and placed a delicate hand on my chest, over my heart. My pulse quickened at her touch, as if it were an electric charge. She then raised her hand and brushed my cheek, tracing with her slender fingers the scar on my left cheek that was the result of a training accident.

**_"_****_You are a good person, Vasiliy Bylinkin, with a stout heart and undying loyalty to your friends and your Motherland, more is the pity."_**

She lowered her hand, and her eyes became bright as she lowered her head. Then I noticed tears, sparkling like precious stones, trickle down her cheek. More tears followed, her bare shoulders shook as she sobbed. Watching this beautiful creature cry broke my heart, her sadness piqued me to my core. All I wanted was to comfort her, to tell her it would be alright, to remove whatever it was that caused her pain. In my haste I pulled down my kerchief scarf off a hook by my bunk and offered it to her.

"Why do you cry, Beautiful Lady?"

That caused her to look up and smile, she accepted my scarf to daub away her tears.

**_"_****_Because I can see your thread in the pattern of the Weave, and I know what will happen to you."_**

My eyes widened.

"I-I will die?"

She shook her head sadly.

**_"_****_No, though it would be a mercy if you had. You will live to see your friends die one by one in a horrible war, you will live to see your loyalty shattered, your heart hardened, and your spirit broken, and eventually you will become a monster, a villain."_**

Before I could speak, she leaned in, all I could see were those beautiful green eyes.

**_"_****_I wish to offer you release, but I fear that your loyalty to your country and your fellow soldiers will be your undoing."_**

I was shocked, but spoke up.

"But, Lady, I cannot abandon my post!"

The Lady smiled sadly, and handed me back my scarf.

**_"_****_I know why you refuse, and I do not want to show you the future, and that saddens me. But now I see that I must."_**

She stood up to leave.

**_"_****_I will come back to you in a fortnight's time to show you visions, in hopes to dissuade you from this path."_**

It pained me to see such a vision depart, so I sat up.

"Wait, don't leave!"

Then the image shimmered, and the face I was looking at was not a beautiful lady, but the scarred and weatherbeaten face of Misha, who was grinning.

"Who don't you want to leave, _Molodoy_?"

I stared blankly at him and realized that he had heard it. I heard Petya yawn as he sat up.

"What are you two idiots blathering about at this hour?"

Misha shrugged.

"I am not sure, the _Starley_ here was rather insistent that someone not leave, and I am trying to figure out who."

I saw that both of them were looking at me expectantly, so I sighed.

"I-I was dreaming about a beautiful lady, Comrade."

Immediately Petya let out a salacious chuckle.

"Oh, and such a shame we interrupted your romantic encounter, Vasya! What did this beautiful lady look like?"

I shook my head as I stared up at my squaddies, still blinking the sleep from my eyes. How could I explain such an angelic, otherworldly creature like the Lady and not be branded a junkie? Fortunately Misha decided to fill in the blanks for me.

"The lieutenant was probably dreaming of a tryst with the lovely Anastasiya Vertinskaya, I'll warrant."

I froze, the image of the beautiful green haired lady still burned in my mind, but Petya spoke up.

"Hah! What would you know of Anastasiya, _Starik_? You never struck me as the type to watch smutty science fiction movies!"

Misha shook his head.

"Don't be so _nekulturny_, Comrade Prapor, Anastasiya had many different movie roles to showcase her acting talents besides a sex object. For the record I saw her in Kozintsev's Hamlet. Her Ophelia was something to see!"

I watched as the two men continued to debate the relative sexiness of Anastasiya Vertinskaya and Natalya Varley. As I laid back in my bunk I tried to rationalize what happened. It had to be a dream, but it was so real. Part of me wishes to see this beautiful creature again, but part of me is afraid, afraid of what visions may come from her arrival.

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

Zampolit: Political officer, the Soviet Army equivalent to the WH 40K's commissar. But without the chainsaw sword.

Starshina: Closest equivalent in the Soviet Army to a Sergeant Major.

Prapor: Short for Praporshchik, Soviet Army rank roughly equivalent to warrant officer or junior officer.

Starley: Short for "Starshiy Lieutenant" (lit. Senior Lieutenant)

Tushonka: Canned stewed meat, common 'C' style ration in the Russian Army.

Kasha: boiled buckwheat grains. Also common ration issued in the Russian Army and makes a great meal when mixed with tushonka.

Shket: slang name for a street urchin.

Molodoy: lit. 'youngster' it can be meant as a term of endearment or patronizing depending on the context.

Starik: lit. 'Old man', it also can be meant as a term of endearment of patronizing depending on the context.

Rusalka: A water or river nymph, usually takes the form of a beautiful young woman with green hair.

Nekulturny: Uncouth or uncultured. The way it was put to me by a Russian was that you would apply that term to someone who, upon finding a rare manuscript of Tolstoy, uses it as toilet paper since he doesn't read.

Fun bit of trivia: Anastasiya Vertinskaya and Natalya Varley were both female movie stars from the 1960's in the Soviet Union and the closest equivalent to pin-ups for soldiers in the Soviet Army.

_(AN: So, hope you enjoyed it, I sure enjoyed writing it. And again a big merci! to _biohazard115_ for his input in bringing these Cold War era Soviet soldiers to life with the terminology and slang. There will be two more diary entries, and then we will get back to the main story. Good news is they should go pretty quick, I may even be able to get another chapter up by the weekend, though no promises.)_


	123. Diary of Lt Bylinkin: Oct 1978 Entry

**Wednesday, early morning of October 4th, 1978**

I write down my recollections at a feverish pace, though it is well into the night and almost dawn. I must record every shred of memory from this night while it is still fresh in my memory, lest time dilute it.

Earlier this evening it was a mix of consternation and excitement that I awaited the Lady's apparition. On the one hand just the mere prospect of seeing such a beautiful creature again makes my pulse quicken, but I dread what she may show me of the future, if what she says is true. I don't remember falling asleep, I remember I was working on my T-55, checking each hub for weak spots, and I vaguely remember closing my eyes. Then when I opened my eyes again I saw her. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, her long green tresses swishing around her, and her long silky dress cascading off the side of the fender as she sat on the toolbox by the rear fender. It did make for an odd sight, seeing such a beautiful otherworldly creature sitting on a tank. I glanced about, half expecting my _Prapor_ to walk past.

The Lady seemed to read my thoughts and smiled.

**_"_****_Though you may not realize it, you are in fact asleep."_**

I returned her smile as I stood up and offered a hand to help her off the tank.

"Be careful on sitting on the tank, you don't want your lovely dress to catch on the treads and tear."

The Lady responded by letting out a soft, musical giggle, and accepted my hand. She stepped lightly off her seat, and seemed to almost float down to the ground. I realized that she was still holding onto my hand. With her there I felt emboldened enough to ask a question.

"May I ask your name, Beautiful Lady?"

She smiled again.

"**_In your mother tongue, I am known as _****_Utrennyaya Zvezda."_**

"That is fitting, a beautiful name for a Beautiful Lady."

She responded by reaching out with her free hand to caress my cheek, but the smile left, and a grave expression furrowed her radiant face.

**_"_****_I know that your wishes have remained unchanged, so I have come to show you what will happen to you if you stay."_**

Before I could respond, I heard a rough voice snarl behind me.

"Now, ask that filthy dog where the _Praporshchik_ is, and where those damned insurgents are hiding!"

I turned around, and was shocked again by the sight that greeted my eyes.

The Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_ and myself were no longer in the motor pool of our tank base, but rather on the edge of a dusty village in the Afghan countryside. There was a Captain in the process of interrogating an old man, probably the village elder, while a platoon of Spetsnaz were keeping the villagers at bay.

I heard the buzzing of helicopters and saw two Mi-24 Hinds circling overhead like buzzards, with what looked like a Mi-8T transport flying in the distance. I then heard someone speaking Urdu, and turned. My _Starshina_ Misha seemed to be acting as an interpreter, as he was speaking to the old man. The old man glared at the officer and spoke a few quietly defiant words. Misha nodded and turned to the officer.

"He says there are no _mujahedeen_, here, that they have not seen any Soviet soldier."

He paused for a moment.

"Comrade Captain, he seems distraught, maybe he is telling the truth."

The officer took and step forward, and then I recognized him. The tanned and weather-beaten face could not hide the scar, or the blue-green eyes. The voice, though harsh from shouting, I knew as well. The Captain standing before the village elder, was none other than an older version of me! In a flash I was no longer looking at him, I was him; I was glaring down at the old man kneeling before me, and then back to Misha.

"I call bullshit, _Starshina_ Papanov! This filthy pig knows exactly what happened to him! Look at his lying face! I'll bet if I make a call to Crossbow Two-One and have him use his GSh-23 on the sheep paddock that would loosen his tongue!"

I took a step forward. It was surreal, as if I were a prisoner in my own body; I could see things before me, hear what was being said, and could feel the simmering rage, but I had no control over my mouth or movements.

"Comrade Captain!"

I turned and saw two Spetsnaz soldiers approach me.

"Come with us, we have found something."

I felt my heart beating wildly as I followed the two soldiers at a rapid pace, then they disappeared around the back of a large mud hut in the village. The sight that greeted me when I rounded that corner will haunt me to the end of my days.

In a shallow grave there was a body, a naked corpse of a man, mutilated by cuts and bruises, missing fingers and toes, and its genitals cut off. The head was slashed with deep cuts, and the face was stripped of all skin, the mouth a grinning rictus that was pried open. As I knelt down beside the corpse, the pungent ammonia smell of urine wafted up to my nostrils. Part of me was wishing fervently that this was someone else, but then my eyes fell upon a tattoo on the forearm. I wiped the blood and dirt away, and it revealed something that made my heart sink, though it was only a crude outline of a tank with a quatrain of numbers.

8675. Our old tank unit. All three of us got tattooed after surviving our 1st year of service in Afghanistan. We tracked down a venerable old NCO who was adjunct to our _Polkovnik_, and was also a skilled tattoo artist. He had tattooed a tank along with the unit numbers onto our forearms, and I remember that of all of us I yelped the most. The memories came rushing unbidden, I closed my eyes and felt hot tears stream down my dirt-caked cheeks. I then felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. There was the Spetsnaz NCO, a man with the face of a devil and eyes as hard as diamonds on the tsar's crown, but now his hard features softening into something that resembled sympathy.

"I am sorry, Comrade Captain. We all lose subordinates in war, but nobody should lose one like this."

He held out a hand and helped me to my feet.

"My orders stand, Comrade _Praporshchik_. But first there is something I have to do."

I stalked back to the place where the old man and the villagers were being held, my sorrow giving way to a burning white-hot anger. Misha was there to, and his eyes widened at my expression.

"Petya?" He asked.

I shook my head and spoke one word.

"Gone."

Misha's face fell. I reached into my holster and pulled out my Makarov, chambering a round. The _snick_ caught both the village elder and the _Starshina_'s attention. Both were protesting, although I only heard my sergeant.

"Captain! You can't do this!"

I glared at the old man still kneeling and babbling in his heathen dialect. I then turned to Misha and gestured to the old man with my pistol.

"Even if this filthy pig did not kill the _Praporshchik_, he is responsible for the actions of whoever did, as their chieftain he is their commander. As such I am making an example out of him."

Misha lunged forward and grabbed my arm, trying to stop me.

"Please, Vasiliy! This won't bring Petya back!"

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the gimlet-eyed Spetsnaz NCO took a step forward, and I shook my head lightly. I turned back to Misha, and heard words I never wanted to speak.

"Comrade _Starshina_, kindly unhand me, lest you be charged with assaulting a superior officer."

Misha's eyes went bright with anger, but then slowly dulled. He let go of me, and hung his head as he saluted.

"My apologies, Comrade Captain."

I felt sorrow, and returned his salute.

"Go back to the tanks, and radio in to headquarters that we have found _Praporshchik_ Mironov."

Misha nodded, and seemed grateful that he would not have to witness what was going happen. I watched him walk back to the three tanks that were idling on the outskirts of the village, and seeing the once proud _Starshina_ with his shoulders slumped in sorrow broke my heart.

In an instant it was gone, and the boiling anger came back in a wave of fire. I turned and glared at the village elder, still on his knees. Some _babushka_ wearing a cloak that covered her head, and probably his wife, had broken free from the Spetsnaz, and was kneeling beside him. She, too was speaking rapidly in Urdu, and was probably also pleading for her husband's life.

I glanced over to _Praporshchik_ Putyin and nodded once. He nodded in return. I raised my pistol, and aimed it at the old man's head. I could feel my index finger tightening on the trigger, though I tried to fight the impulse, I felt the gun's recoil. The woman's screams were drowned out by the staccato bark of the machine guns as the Spetsnaz gunned down the other villagers. While the woman bent over her husband's corpse crying, I raised the pistol again and aimed it at her head.

I screamed, and instantly I was back in the motor pool, but it was the face of Petya that was staring at me.

"Are you alright, _Starley_?"

I felt sweat beading on my forehead, and I fought down the impulse to hug him. Instead I lowered my head.

"I'm alright, Petya, just a bad dream."

I heard him chuckle.

"It certainly didn't sound like you were having another tryst with a beautiful lady, Vasya."

If only he knew. I heard him walk off, and I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them I saw the Lady again, kneeling beside me and running her fingers through my hair. Her face was one of intense sorrow, and a single tear traced its way down her cheek.

**_"_****_I fervently wish I did not have to show you such horrors, Vasiliy, but if that is what it takes to make you leave this path that will lead you into darkness, I must. Though I wish I did not have to."_**

She stroked my cheek again.

**_"_****_War is a terrible thing, it makes good men to bad things, and each time they do those bad things they cross a line, one that they cannot uncross."_**

My thoughts inexplicably went to the young Yankee officer I met in the bazaar, when he recovered my wallet from a _shket_ that had stolen it. I had met him again a few days later in the same bazaar, and we had tried some of the local coffee at a nearby cafe. I remembered nervously looking around, worrying that one of my fellow soldiers would spot me with a man in an American uniform. But as it turned out, my _Starshina_ was right. This Konrad was not much different from me; idealistic, patriotic, and a tad naïve. The Lady continued, as if she could read my thoughts.

**_"_****_Even your friend John Konrad will be affected by this war, and it will eventually force him to do unspeakable things that will damn him."_**

She leaned in, and her large green eyes glistened.

**_"_****_All you must do to avoid these horrors is to come with me, and I will take you to a world without the fog that clouds minds, a place where you can achieve good things by defeating evil creatures."_**

I was conflicted, the idea of leaving behind the misery was tempting, but that would mean…

"My squaddies, the _Prapor_ and the _Starshina_?"

She smiled.

**_"_****_They will accompany you on this journey, fear not."_**

Again, the image of Petya's mutilated corpse filled my vision. If we left this world behind, then he would not die, we could survive, even thrive in this new world…

Then, I glanced past the Beautiful Lady, and saw my squad's T-55, and beyond it was a wall draped with the flag of the Motherland. The bright red contrasted with the dark green of the tank, and immediately my mind was made up. I looked up at the Lady.

"I am sorry, Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_, but my place is here. Much as I want to leave, I have a duty to my country, not just to my squaddies. And now that I know the future, I can stop it."

The Lady was saddened by my response, and for an agonizing minute my resolve almost wavered at the heartbreaking sight of tears streaming down her cheeks as she wept over my refusal. Finally she stood up.

**_"_****_So be it. Know that I have not yet given up on you. I will return at a time in the future, I will not let you cross that line."_**

She turned to leave, and glanced back, giving me a sad smile.

**_"_****_Until then, farewell, Vasiliy Ivanovich Bylinkin."_**

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

Utrennyaya Zvezda: Morning Star, this was one of the titles of Lúthien Tinúviel in the Silmarillion.

_(AN: Wow. Just wow. This was a heavy chapter to write, but again this is a SO:TL crossover so that angst has to be there. And I lied a bit, there will be two more chapters, I was originally going to have another interaction with Konrad, but it just didn't fit with the rest of the tone of this chapter. Again many thanks to _Pz. VI_ and _biohazard115_ for their help in getting all the Soviet terminology and slang right. And for those impatiently waiting for the plot to advance, just please be patient, we will be getting back to that very soon, kay?)_


	124. Diary of Lt Bylinkin: Sept 1980 Entry

_(AN: I had meant to do one more entry in February of 1979, but I couldn't make it gel, also I was itching to get back to the main story, so instead we have a fairly large chapter. Enjoy!)_

**Friday, September 12th, 1980**

It has now been over two years since I have arrived in this country. In those two short, and yet long years, so much has gone so wrong. First there was the killing of the American ambassador back in February of 1979. I know, because Konrad and I witnessed it happen. On one hand my Yankee friend blames himself for not being on duty, but if he had, he would have been killed with the ambassador for sure. The death of Ambassador Dubs soured relations between the Motherland and the Americans, they shuttered the embassy and evacuated the staff, and with them Konrad. I never got to say goodbye to him, only a brief note left at the gate from my 'Lithuanian cousin' Ivan Konradovich.

Then there was the escalation between the insurgents and the woefully inadequate Afghan National Army, causing us to have to ramp up military operations. This caused more casualties, and more new meat.

This morning I shocked myself as I was shaving in my mirror. My face is as lined and weatherbeaten as my _Starshina_ Misha. I remembered vaguely a dream of a beautiful woman, and how she was very sad, and all I wanted to do was to comfort her. As I buttoned up my uniform I tried to recall what the Lady looked like, and the only feature I could remember about her was her beautiful green eyes and long hair. I checked myself in the mirror, and the reflection of the red and gold shoulder boards look back at me in the mirror, with the four stars signifying my newly appointed rank as a Captain.

I had received my orders from my _Polkovnik_, and debriefed my men. I remembered standing in the tarmac in front of my tank platoon, seeing my _Starshina_ standing at attention by the driver's hatch, his back still straight and proud. My _Prapor_ Petya was standing in the gunner's turret, still with his youthful grin.

The other two tanks had their own Starley's and Prapors, all _Molodoy _compared to us.

"Men, at 1100 hours this morning a Mi-24V gunship, callsign Crossbow Two had lost contact and is presumed down somewhere near the Kyber Pass. We will be coordinating with ground troops and a Mi-8T medevac callsign Archangel Four-Two. Questions?"

I glanced about, one of the new meat, a _Starley_, raised his hand.

"Will there be any hostiles, Comrade Captain?"

I glanced back at Misha and grinned. The young officer who went by the name of Yegor Filotov, had aroused my _Starshina_'s ire by mocking the T-55, and calling him _Starik_. Misha had responded by saying that the _Letekha_'s breath still stank of his mother's milk, and wondered if he brought any for the rest of the crew.

"Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant what do you think brought down Crossbow Two, migrating geese? Of course there will be hostiles, and since the mujahedeen now have apparently gotten their hands on Strela-2 MANPADs, tanks are still the safest and quickest way there. Any more questions? Good. Then you are dismissed, we move out in one hour."

* * *

><p><strong>Same Day, 13:35<strong>

I am taking the time to write down as we have stopped to for a meager lunch of _grecha s tushonkoy_. It is odd because I am exhausted, although I sleep I no longer dream so wake up feeling as tired as when I went to bed. It is better than the alternative, there are times when I do I dream of terrible things happening to my squaddies. I chucked my empty ration tin through the hatch in the floor in time to see my _Prapor_ climbing up. I chastised Petya for stepping out of the safety of the tank, although as it turned out he had his reasons to.

"Really Vasya you're as bad as my mother, nagging me when I leave to go take a piss."

I shook my head laughing.

"Just don't dawdle, Petya. And remember only two shakes, anything less and that is pleasing yourself, and proper Soviet tanker is not in the habit of pleasing himself whilst on duty."

I remembered the young officer laughing as he left, and then was relieved when he climbed back in from the command cupola. For some odd reason I had feeling that something terrible would happen to him.

* * *

><p><strong>Same Day 18:45<strong>

I'm frantically writing this diary after the dream I had, though I still do not believe it.

Earlier I had fallen asleep in my command chair, and for once I had dreamed pleasant dreams of being a child again, laughing and playing in a meadow near my parent's _dacha_. I could feel the soft grass tickling my face as I rolled about, and I could smell lilac and wildflowers. Then I found that I was not lying down on meadow, but rather that I was resting my head on something soft. I opened my eyes and saw that my head was resting in the lap of a beautiful woman, who was running her fingers through my hair.

I looked up at her, and suddenly I remembered who she was. The long green hair, the large beautiful green eyes, the radiant face, it was the Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_ and my entire being was awash with a cyclone of emotions. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, but her face still bore that same sad expression. I glanced about in tank's interior and grinned.

"You know this isn't possible. There's no way you could be sitting here in the cramped confines of my T-55."

That brought a smile to the Lady's face, and she stroked my cheek again.

**_"_****_This is your dream, Vasiliy. In a dream anything is possible, and nothing is confined to such trite things as the physical world."_**

She stood up, which again should have been an impossibility and took my hand.

**_"_****_You know why I have come, haven't you, Vasiliy?"  
><em>**

I nodded uncertainly.

"You are here to try and convince me to leave. But I've told you, Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_, I cannot abandon my post."

The Lady smiled again, although the old sadness crept back across her face. She reached out and took my hand in hers.

**_"Then I must show you more. Come."_**

I found myself in a darkened room, lit only by the screen of a TV set that looks impossible large and sleek. The only other furniture is a large easy chair, where a person is lounging it it. On the TV screen is the news, and a female reporter is breathlessly yammering on in English.

_"It has been confirmed, the sandstorms in the UAE have gotten bad enough to have completely encircled Dubai, although the Arab League still deny it. If these reports are true that would mean that the rumors of the United States Army battalion trapped there, the 'Damned 33rd' has been lost to the storm. The Pentagon refuses to confirm or deny anything, merely stating that the President has been receiving daily debriefings on the subject..."_

The man stood up out of the chair, he is an older man with more scars on his face. It took me a few minutes to register that this was me, only older. I stared as my older self regarded the TV, as a photo of a man in a US Army uniform is show. This time it took me only a moment to recognize my Yankee friend. The TV reporter continued.

_"...The Damned 33rd was commanded by the legendary Colonel John Konrad, who left behind a wife and son in the United States..."_

My older self closed his eyes and whispered to himself, but I heard what he said.

"Farewell, old friend. At least you died a hero, and did not live to see yourself become a villain."

Then a rough looking man entered the room, and whispered something to my older self, who nodded, and followed him out. As I watched them leave I looked over to the Lady and asked her

"What am I doing here?"

The Lady did not respond, but pointed to the door where my older self had gone. I crept up to the doorway, to hear a sound like meat being tenderized. I peered in and saw my older self punching someone who was handcuffed to a chair. The older man in the chair I didn't recognize, except that his white beard was stained purple with blood. As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness I saw that it was a small room lit only by a single bulb. I heard my older self speaking.

"You see, you filthy dog, I do not begrudge losing comrades to an enemy in battle. If you shoot one of my men, that is war, it is your duty to kill us, just as it was my sworn duty to kill you. In each other's eyes we regard the other as the enemy."

I watched as my older self pull a small tray on wheels closer. He pulled up a rusty scalpel, and examined it in the dim light.

"But torture, that is uncalled for. To me that is what separates a soldier, or a freedom fighter, from a filthy terrorist."

He set the knife back down on the tray and faced the old man.

"You tortured one of my men, a _Prapor_ named Pytor Mironov."

To his credit, the old man just spat a phlegm of blood at my older self's feet and glared at him.

"I killed hundreds of your heathen kind, you son of a Russian dog! And what would you know of honorable combat, using your tanks and gunships to raze our villages!"

My older self glared, and backhanded the old man. He leaned in and hissed

"Petya was my friend, and we would not have razed your village if you hadn't had tortured him!"

His composure regained, my former self stood back up, and started unbuttoning the buttons to his shirt. As he did the old man continued.

"I do not care what you do to me! Kill me if you must, for I am old, and I have sons and grandsons who will carry on the tradition of killing any foreigner to occupies our land!"

My older self paused and a wicked grin spread across his face.

"Ah, yes, about your sons."

He turned to the rough looking man and nodded. A second later the door opened, and a younger man wearing Afghan clothes was shoved into the room, followed by two more heavily armed men. Then something that sickened me, a young boy of about ten dragged in by the scruff of his neck. Both immediately recognized the old man and called out to him. The old man's bravado was gone, and his bruised skin on his face blanched. Frantically he turned back to my old self.

"No! Not my firstborn and his son!"

My older self continued to smile evilly as he spoke.

"Yes, your son and grandson. You heathens hold your firstborn in high regard, do you not? Well, I am here to tell you that I will eventually kill you, but not before I will inflict the same torture upon your son and grandson that you inflicted upon my comrades. I will make you watch, and you will hear every scream and witness every cut, every mutilation, every drop of blood they shed for your crimes. And when they have finally died, and you have completely broken, only then will I kill you."

I watched in horror as my older self removed his shirt, and as I stared at the tattoos that decorated his scarred chest and arms, it all clicked into place. I was no longer a soldier, but a criminal, a _vor v zakone_. I heard the Lady's voice by my side. I looked over to her, and saw her green eyes were bright with tears.

_**"This is what the future holds for you, Vasiliy Ivanovich Bylinkin. You will lose all your friends in the war, and in your efforts to avenge them you will become a monster."**_

The scene thankfully dissolved away, and I found myself in a place that looked like a forest with the Lady. She took my hand in her slender fingers and spoke again.

_**"This is why I came to you, Vasiliy, this is why I **__**ask, nay I implore you to let me take you away from this."**_

I smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I am sorry Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_, and it saddens me to my core to cause you pain. But I cannot abandon my post, no amount of visions of the future will change that."

Shining tears streamed down her face as the Lady spoke.

**_"_****_I know why you refuse, Vasiliy Bylinkin. But my heart cannot bear the prospect of you going down that path_****_."_**

She turned to go, then paused and spoke without turning around.

**_"When the time comes, remember what I have told you. I cannot allow you to become the villain, it would break my heart."_**

Then I woke up in a cold sweat. As I write down these words, I don't know the meaning of the Lady's words, although I am willing to face down any enemy this feeling of dread permeates my being..."

* * *

><p>Konrad paused, and Lt. Bowles spoke up.<p>

"What's wrong sir?"

Konrad shook his head as he flipped to the next page, only to find it blank.

"I'm not sure, the diary just ends abruptly. I wonder what happened?"

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

Letekha: A derogatory term for 'Lieutenant', usually given to some new officer to tries to pull rank on a senior NCO.

Vor v zakone: Lit. "Thief-in-law," a high-ranking criminal within the ranks of the Russian organized crime. Many _vor v zakone_ were in fact disenfranchised Soviet soldiers who decided to go rogue after the fall of the Soviet Union. Their unique tattoos identified them not only as criminals but also served as a sort of C.V. to their exploits in the criminal world.

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Okay, so I can hear all of you letting out a collective groan for ending it there. Truth be told the first incarnation of this chapter was a 5,000+ word behemoth and I was struggling to keep the 1st and 3rd person narrative serparate. Fear not, the next chapter will deal with his fate (and his last meeting with the Weaver of Fate). The next chapter should be up in about an hour or two, so if you see a notification in your inbox, it's not an error, it's another chapter!)<em>


	125. The Fate of Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin

_(AN: And here we find out the fate of Vasya Bylinkin, enjoy!)_

Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin had dozed off after writing the last entry in his journal, when he jolted awake to the sound of _Starshina_ Papanov's voice in his headset.

"Captain, are you awake?"

Vasya yawned.

"I am now, Misha. What is it?"

"Captain I'm picking up a signal, it's weak, but it sounds like our downed pilot."

"Alright, patch it through."

There was a hiss of static.

_"…Repeating, this is Crossbow Two transmitting in the blind, two survivors in need of immediate evacuation, over!"_

The captain smiled, he recognized the voice as belonging to _Starley_ Analtoly Nobikov. Vasya switched channels on the radio and spoke.

"Well, well, Tolya I never thought I would hear you asking for help from a bunch of Turtles. What is your situation?"

There was an audible chuckle heard through the static.

_"Stalin's Hairy Balls, it's good to hear from you Comrade Captain. The situation is fucked, my copilot is in need of immediate medical attention and insurgents have attempted to breach our perimeter. We've beaten them back, but it cost us the last of our ammo from the PK."_

"Understood, Crossbow Two. What is your position?"

_"Our crash site is in a narrow canyon, our last known coordinates before crashing were 31.534896 by 71.113569."_

Vasya shone his penlight down on a laminated Lat-Long map. After a moment he looked back up and keyed his mic.

"Understood Crossbow Two, looks like we're about ten kilometres from your position, stand by for evac."

He then switched channels on the radio.

"Archangel Four-Two this is Anvil One Actual, we have found survivors of Crossbow Two, repeat, we have found them."

The Mi-8T pilot's voice came through faintly.

_"This is Archangel Four Two confirmed, what is their position?"_

He consulted his map again.

"Archangel Four-Two be advised their crash site is about four kilometres into the K-G Pass. We are very close to them and can mark their position to assist in the evac."

_"Negative, Anvil One Actual, we cannot evac in that canyon. Intel reports that pass is crawling with insurgents."_

Vasya cursed, but then after his choler subsided, saw the pilot had a point. The whole reason Crossbow Two was in their situation was because they had flew a sortie into the pass chasing down a high value target. And if a heavily armored gunship could be shot down in such confined spaces then the lightly armored transport would be a sitting duck. And Vasya had heard about the Mi-8T's being brought down by even small arms fire. He keyed his mic again.

"Understood, Archangel Four-Two. Be advised tank Platoon Anvil will go in and rescue the survivors, stand by for a possible hot extraction if we run into trouble."

_"Confirmed Anvil One Actual, good luck."_

The captain then switched his radio to the command channel.

"All units this is Anvil One Actual, we have located the crash site of Crossbow Two are going in. Approximate coordinates are 31.534896 by 71.113569, mark it on your maps and follow my lead."

After a short while the entrance to the mountainous Khost-Gardez Pass loomed ahead. Vasya's tank rumble to a stop, and he glanced down, speaking into his radio.

"Why the stop, Misha?"

"You do realize this is probably a trap, Captain?"

Vasya grinned at him.

"Of course I know it's a trap, that's why I'm not going in there without my dinosaur tank or my Dinosaur _Starshina_ piloting it."

He heard Misha chuckle.

"Alright, maybe these goat-herders' aim is as bad as their goat's milk."

Vasya opened the command channel.

"All units, button up and keep your heads and turrets on a swivel. Those damned insurgents could be hiding anywhere."

With that he pulled himself down from the main cupola and into the command chair, pulling the hatch secure. He checked the NVG periscope.

"Can you see where you're going, Misha?"

"Affirmative, Captain. According to the map we will be turning right in 100 metres, stand by."

The T-55 slowly turned by degrees as it navigated the narrow canyon. Vasya's radio crackled again.

_"Anvil One Actual this is Anvil Three, spotter reports seeing splash of white in his NVGs."_

"Hostiles?"

_"Unconfirmed, Comrade Captain. It could have been a goat."_

He heard Misha chuckle over the radio.

"If it lobs an RPG at us then we know the insurgents have taught their goats how to fire weapons."

Vasya joined in the mirth as he shook his head and addressed the rearguard tank.

"Anvil Three, understood. Keep your eyes peeled for any more blips. Be ready for anything."

After another turn in the canyon a large wreck came into view in Vasya's NVG periscope, the airframe was cold, but the large bulbous intake nacelles at the top were still bright with heat. he switched channels on the radio.

"Crossbow Two this is Anvil One Actual, we are on the approach do you have a visual?"

_"Confirmed, Anvil One Actual we have a visual. Vasya I never thought I would be so happy to see a bloody tank in my life."_

Vasya smiled.

"Alright Tolya, sit tight and we'll come to you."

He then switched channels back to the command channel.

"Anvil Two, you are to pull up and provide cover while we extract the survivors."

Vaysa looked down at Petya currently in the gunner's chair.

"Keep your eyes on those rocky formations, _Praporshchik_ Mironov, and shoot anything that moves."

The young officer grinned.

"Understood, Comrade Captain."

Captain Bylinkin then looked over to the Afghan Army trainee who was acting as their loader.

"Junior Sergeant Khan, grab your rifle and come with me."

The young Afghan nodded and pulled off his tanker helmet. Vasya grabbed his own rifle, a paratrooper version of the AKMS, and chambered a round. He then opened the hatch to the main cupola and pulled himself out. Anvil Two was already pulling forward, so he motioned the Afghan soldier to follow his lead and crouched behind cover by the tank's treads. When the tank was alongside the wrecked gunship, Vasya spoke into his portable radio.

"Anvil Two this is Anvil One Actual, come to a stop and have your gunner search for possible hostiles."

As an answer the tank rumbled to a stop and its turret pivoted back towards the mountain pass. Vasya quickly advanced towards the crew compartment and saw movement. A man wearing a flightsuit motioned him to come inside.

"Come, give us a hand!"

The captain shouldered his rifle and bent down to inspect the injured copilot. He was conscious, but barely, and his flightsuit was a dark, wet mess where his abdomen was. Vasya spoke into his radio.

"Anvil One-Three, radio to Archangel Four-Two and tell them we have located the survivors, one of which will need immediate medical aid as soon as he is extracted."

Misha's voice came through the static.

_"Understood."_

Vasya then gently took the injured airman by the armpits and with the help of Tolya pulled him free from the wreckage. He nodded to the Afghan sergeant.

"Get Anvil Two-One on the horn and tell him to open his command hatch, and help us get the survivors in his tank."

Only after the copilot was safely inside the tank did Tolya finally relax. He looked over to his friend Vasya.

"Crap I could use a cigarette, does the Comrade Captain have any to spare?"

The captain grinned as he reached into his shirt pocket and tossed the pilot a pack of cigarettes.

"Keep it, I think you need it more than I do."

The airman lit the cigarette and took in a lungful of the soothing smoke, before exhaling and glancing back at the wreckage.

"If you had told me three years ago that those damned cave rats could take down the mightly _Krokodil_, I wouldn't have believed them."

Vasiliy shrugged.

"The irony is helicopter pilots being rescued by 'turtles', Tolya. Usually it's the other way around."

The pilot smiled and was about to say something when the Afghan soldier screamed out a three letter word that froze the blood in Vasya's veins.

"RPG!"

Both soldiers quickly ducked into cover by Anvil Two's treads just in time as the deadly weapon connected. There was a loud explosive impact, followed by a much louder explosion. As Vasya's ringing ears were still recovering he could hear the area was being peppered by small-arms fire. Misha's voice came through urgently on the radio.

_"Captain! Anvil Three is down, I say again Anvil Three is down!"_

Vasiliy spoke into his radio.

"Understood, Anvil One-Three, any survivors?"

_"Negative, no survivors. What are your orders?"_

Vasya looked over to Tolya, the pilot's eyes were wide with fear. He had heard stories about what the _mujahedeen_ did to downed airmen, and the captain had seen enough bodies to know they were more than just stories. A faint memory touched the edge of his consciousness, but he quickly pushed it aside.

"Tolya, get into the tank, I will cover you."

The airman nodded, and Vasya quickly took up a position by the rear of the tank and fired a burst from his rifle. Immediately there was a hail of bullets that peppered his position, but he heard the command hatch _*clank*_ shut and heard Filotov's voice on his radio.

_"Captain this is Anvil Two-One, pilot is secure in our tank, what are your orders?"_

Vasya looked back at the situation. There was another cacophonous report as his own T-55 tank fired the main gun into the rocks. Judging by the faint screams coming from the rocks above it meant that Petya's aim was making short work of their attackers. The captain spoke into his radio again.

"Anvil Two-One you are to fall back out of the KG Pass and rendezvous with Archangel Four-Two."

Filotov spoke up.

_"Back the way we came? It will be a gauntlet! We won't survive!"_

"Anvil One will provide you with covering fire."

It took a long second for the implications of what Captain Bylinkin was telling him to sink in.

_"Understood Comrade Captain. Good luck."_

Vasya grinned.

"Right just tell that cowardly pilot to wait for us. We will be along shortly, after we've dealt with these cave rats. Tell your gunner to cover me."

As if to answer, Anvil Two's turret swiveled and the PKT coaxial machinegun let out a staccato bark. Quickly Vasya dashed to the relative cover of his tank and looked back.

The Afghan soldier was crouched behind Anvil Two, and Vasya called out to him.

"Hurry! Run for it!"

The young soldier hesitated for a moment and then broke out into a full run. His moment's hesitation cost him his life, the ground erupted around the junior sergeant as he ran, and he collapsed. Vasya cursed and spoke into his radio.

"Petya! Fire another round into those damned hills and then open the hatch!"

He waited until the tank recoiled with another shot from the main gun, and then he scrambled up the back of the tank and into the open hatch. Vasya's boots almost hit Petya as he climbed back into the safety of his tank, and he pulled the hatch shut. As he pulled back on his tanker helmet and plugged in, he saw that his gunner had looked back from his station.

"What about Wassim?"

Vasya shook his head.

"Those damned insurgents shot him down as he ran."

As if to punctuate his statement the hull of the T-55 clattered with the impacts of machine-gun fire like hail on a tin roof. Immediately Vasya's training took over and he swiveled the command periscope around, looking for targets. He saw several white blips in the green darkness of the NVG's, three figures left the cover of a rock formation at the top of the canyon. One of them was carrying a long-barreled weapon that was obviously an RPG. He shouted into the radio to Petya.

"Contact at three o'clock, elevation 35 degrees, do you have a visual?"

Petya's voice came through the radio.

"Copy that, Comrade Captain, visual confirmed, firing coaxial machine gun."

There was a burst of fire, and in the scope Vasya could see the tracer fire streak towards the insurgents. Two of them were cut down by the stream of 7.62x54mm bullets, but the last one took cover.

"Shit! They're taking cover behind some rocks. Keep them busy while I load up an HE round!"

Petya responded with another burst of fire, and Vasya pushed away from the scope. He quickly pulled a shell off the rack, one that had the distinctive UOF-412 markings, and pushed it into the breach. He then shouted into his radio.

"Main gun primed and ready!"

"Firing!"

The entire tank shook as the 100mm cannon fired followed by the loud *Clank* of the spent shell hitting the floor. Vasya checked in the periscope and was rewarded by the bright burst of fire. He also noted grimly that there were several more bodies on fire and writhing about.

"It looks like we got some of those rats. Comrade_ Starshina_, take us out of this canyon!"

The tank lurched forward as it got underway, and Vasya scanned with the NVG periscope and looked one last time at the burning rock formation. There was a lone figure that emerged from the fire, and it aimed a long-barreled weapon right at him. The captain's heart sank as he uttered a forbidden religious phrase.

"Mother of God..."

But there was no explosion; no explosive impact of the RPG, nor the fire from the secondary explosions of the ordnance cooking off. There was just a bright flash of white light, and Vasya found himself back in the same forest. He heard a familiar voice behind him.

"See, Comrade _Prapor_? I told you he would be here as well."

He turned around and saw Misha and Petya standing there, both grinning at him. He also saw that his T-55 tank had made it here as well. The _Starshina_ clapped a hand on Vasya's shoulder.

"Paradise wouldn't be the same without our commander, eh _Molodoy_?"

Vasya grinned and was about to respond, but then he heard a feminine voice.

**_"Your subordinate is quite correct."_**

The captain turned and saw her, the Beautiful Lady of his dreams, approach him. He returned her gentle smile.

"So, you prevented me from going down that so-called dark path my allowing me to die heroically so others could be rescued. Well-played, Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda._"

She stroked his cheek.

_**"'Tis true, I did bend the rules a bit, but as I told you I saw your pattern in the Weave and knew that there was no way for you to escape your destiny."**_

He opened his mouth to say something pithy, but was interrupted by Petya letting out a salacious chuckle.

"So, Comrade Captain, this was the beautiful lady you saw in your dreams? I do envy you! But you did her no justice to compare her to Anastasiya Vertinskaya! Why, all the movie stars are ugly old hags compared to this angelic beauty!"

Vasya looked over and saw that his _Prapor_ was staring, openly and shamelessly ogling her beautiful figure and the pale luminescent skin on her long bare legs as she strode up to him. The Lady appeared to be amused by his ogling, and let out a musical giggle.

**_"You are quite the flatterer."_**

Petya took one of the Lady's delicate hands in his and bent down to kiss it, but the she very gently but firmly tugged her hand out of his grip before he could follow through. Vasya was horrified at the lack of decorum his junior officer was displaying, but if the Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_ was offended by Petya's crass come-on, she didn't show it. Alas, the young _Prapor_ was not so easily deterred.

"Oh, come now, Beautiful Lady! I haven't kissed a pretty girl since I left for Afghanistan! Please have pity on a lonely soldier!"

She smiled as she kept him at arms length and shook her head.

**_"Regretfully for you my heart is bound to Another. I know all about you, though you try to conceal it."_**

Petya grinned.

"Oh really? Do tell me, Beautiful Lady."

She smiled and assumed a more formal posture.

**_"Pyotr Mironov, behind your brash demeanor beats the heart of a peaceful artisan who become a soldier to protect his loved ones and the Motherland. But all you really wanted was peace, and that peace is what I grant you._****"**

She then turned her gaze to Misha, who had grabbed the fender of the T-55 for support. Vasya had never seen such emotions from the usually stoic _Starshina, _who had closed his eyes.

"I-it can't be..."

Then the old soldier opened them again, and his pale blue eyes were bright with tears.

"My mother told me about you…s-she told me stories about a kind and beautiful creature that would take me away to her magical peaceful world."

He shook his head.

"But that was so long ago."

Misha looked back up at the Lady.

"Was it real? Are you her, are you that Beautiful Lady my mother told me about?"

The Lady smiled at him.

_**"Yes, I am."**_

Misha seemed to crumple at her revelation, but then to Vasya's surprise the sergeant's face contorted into a glare, and he angrily jabbed a finger at her.

"Where were you?! Where were you when I was young and innocent? Why didn't you come and take me then?"

He collapsed to his knees.

"Why do you come to me now? Why did you come now that I've bloodied my hands fighting dirty wars started by stupid damned politicians?"

Misha lowered his head and began to weep.

"Why do you come now that I am a scarred, old monster?"

Both Petya and Vasya were stunned. Neither had never seen such emotions in the old sergeant. The Lady reacted not with anger, but compassion. She strode up to Misha, and knelt in front the weeping soldier. She craned her head so that her face was on level with his, and when the old sergeant opened his eyes, he saw those large beautiful green eyes staring into his soul.

**_"You are not a monster, Misha Papanov. Yours was a kind and gentle heart that cared for your men, with the courage to face any danger to keep them safe, only you hid it behind a gruff exterior. You became a soldier to emulate your Father, but it had nothing to do with the medals or the accolades they heaped upon him. It was the love and respect his men showed to him that you desired."_**

She wiped away one of his tears with a delicate finger, and stroked his cheek.

**_"And I was always there, Misha. But when the time came you had already lost your innocence, and you didn't believe in me anymore. But I was always by your side, waiting, waiting for you to believe again."_**

Misha raised a calloused hand to reach out to the Lady's radiant face. When his hand was close, he hesitated, he could almost feel the warmth of her face, he could feel her soft tresses tickling the back of his hand. Then the Lady smiled, and took his hand in hers, and pressed his palm against her cheek. Misha was shocked at how soft her skin was, and his being was filled with warmth as she spoke again.

_**"None of that matters now, for I am here to take you to that peaceful world without pain or suffering."**_

She helped pull the _Starshina_ to his feet, and then turned back to Vasya and Petya.

"**_I have come to take you all to this peaceful world. You have earned this peace."_**

* * *

><p>Konrad continued flipping through the remaining pages of the diary, then stopped at the end. On the last page of the book, a single word was written.<p>

_"красота"_

Bowles and McPherson looked at the colonel questioningly.

"What does it mean, sir?"

Konrad smiled.

"It mean's 'Beautiful', lieutenant."

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

Turtle: semi-derogatory term for Tankers

_(AN: Okaay, so I hope you enjoyed reading the diary entries as much as I enjoyed writing it. So that wraps up this little interlude, I hope it was to everyone's satisfaction, now we get back to Helkeginia and the Damned 33rd's righteous fight against the dastardly King Jozef and his Reconquista allies. Stay tuned!)_


	126. Training Day

_(AN: Well, this took long enough, but when you're writing about Red Russians and their Rugged Rusty Tech it will take a while to get back into the groove of things. Based off the reception from the flashbacks I can now say that you haven't seen the last of Vasya and his companions :)__  
>So, without further ado:<em>

* * *

><p><em>The scene dissolves into the familiar stage lit by a single spotlight. Captain Handwaver, dressed smartly in his dress khakis, comes back onto the stage. He clears his throat.<em>

_"__I am here, ostensibly to do a handwave about the last chapter concerning any historical inaccuracies of the previous four chapters."  
><em>

_He gives a small Queen Mum wave, and sighs._

_"...Although I don't see the bloody point to all this nonsense. Personally I think with all these interludes that the Author has officially gone balmy."_

_The shabbily dressed private with dirty glasses and a Tommy helmet shuffles onstage._

_"__Sir, who are you referring to?"  
><em>

_Captain Handwaver looks irritated._

_"__Baldrick, did it ever occur to you how odd it is that you and I would just randomly show up here and say clever things?"_

_The private shrugged._

_"__I just assumed you were being clever, sir."_

_The officer sighed._

_"__I would accuse you of having the brain of a donkey, Baldrick, but that would be insulting donkeys. Even the ones who didn't pass their 'A' levels on the first try. The individual whom I am addressing is liken to that Almighty and Invisible Person who Sees All. You of course know whom I'm talking about?"  
><em>

_Baldrick's face lights up._

_"__Oh, I know who, it's Father Christmas right? I l write him every year. Why, last year I asked him for a turnip the size of my head."  
><em>

_Captain Handwaver glares at the private.  
><em>

_"I know I'm going to regret this, but why did you ask for a turnip the size of your head?"  
><em>

_The private shrugged._

_"__Oh, because I could."  
><em>

_The officer chuckles to himself._

_"__Well, Baldrick as much as it pains me to tell you this, although it really doesn't, not only is this Individual that is manipulating our lives not Father Christmas, but he doesn't exist. As a matter of fact, I can prove it to you."_

_He motions upward._

_"__If you think he is Father Christmas, then ask him for a present."  
><em>

_Baldrick smiles with childlike glee._

_"__Oh, wonderful."  
><em>

_He looks up._

_"__Um, sir? If you're up there, Father Christmas, I would very much like a large turnip, please."_

_A large booming voice reverberates downward._

**_"_****_Why, certainly, Private Baldrick."_**_  
><em>

_The satisfied smile on Captain Handwaver's face vanishes when a turnip the approximate size and shape of Baldrick's head appears in his hands. The private looks up._

_"__Thank you, sir!"_

_Captain Handwaver glares up at the sky._

_"__Oh, so give the half-wit his giant turnip and troll me, why don't you?"  
><em>

_He then directed his glare at the private._

_"__Of all the stupid things to ask for."  
><em>

_Baldrick offers his turnip._

_"__Would you like mine, sir? I'm sure Father Christmas would get me another one."  
><em>

_Captain Handwaver shakes his head._

_"__Baldrick, I would rather have that turnip shoved up my arse then ask that Omnipotent Wanker for anything."_

_No sooner had he spoken them then the officer quickly clamps a hand over his mouth in horror. Too late, as the booming voice speaks again._

_**"That can be arranged, Captain Handwaver."**__  
><em>

_In a puff of smoke, the turnip in Baldrick's hands vanishes, and Captain Handwaver's face takes on a very strained expression as he turns red._

_"__Are you alright sir?"  
><em>

_With a considerable amount of effort he speaks._

_"No I'm bloody well not alright, Baldrick." Captain Handwaver splutters, "I have a very large turnip the size of your head in a very uncomfortable place."  
><em>

_"Oh, you mean like the back of a postal lorry?"_

_"Baldrick...I'll give you a hint where your turnip ended up. The first hint is you sit on it..."_

_A long moment passes, but then a light goes on, one might even fancy a small dim bulb going off over the private's head, and he glances down at his hands._

_"__Oh, so that's where it went. But what's it doing there?"_

_"__I have an idea, Baldrick," the captain said, still in a great deal of pain, "But it is statistically impossible that such an Godlike Author Avatar could be so petty and cruel."_

_He looks up.  
><em>

_"Alright, I give up, you win. I'm sorry for calling you an Omnipotent Wanker, now just remove this infernal thing!"_

_Then without warning, Captain Handwaver returns to normal, and lets out a sigh of relief and addresses the audience._

_"__And now time for something completely different."  
><em>

_He turns to leave._

_"__If you'll excuse me, I hear nature calling."  
><em>

_The private is now all alone, and he looks up again._

_"__Um, sir? If you're not needing it anymore I'd like my turnip back..."  
><em>

* * *

><p>Konrad shut the book.<p>

"Well, I suppose that tells us who had that tank before we got ahold of it. Still makes me wonder how Romalia got ahold of it."

Before either officer could speak, the door to the barracks opened, and two figures entered. Bowles almost didn't recognize Private Walker, he and his uniform were scrubbed clean. The lieutenant also noticed that Agnès de Milan was also clean, and her normally light peach-blonde hair was damp as if just recently washed. She was also back in her long green battle dress and white traveling cloak. Agnès paused at the doorway, as if self-conscious from all the scrutiny, and bowed low.

"Lord General Konrad, her Majesty Princess Henrietta wishes to speak to you. She says that it is urgent and concerns the Reconquista."

Konrad nodded, then smiled lightly.

"Understood, Knight Commander."

He glanced over to the private.

"I see you've cleaned up since your arrival, and you've managed to clean up Private Walker as well."

He looked Alex up and down, noticing that his uniform was not only immaculately clean, but also pressed and free of wrinkles.

"I don't think the private's kit was this clean when he reported for duty in the 33rd, wouldn't you say, Lieutenant McPherson?"

The lieutenant chuckled.

"I'll say, sir. The private looks positively pink."

That comment caused the female knight to blush slightly, but she hid it well.

"Shall I inform her Majesty of your impending arrival, sir?"

The colonel glanced over to his two officers.

"Better accompany me on this one, gentleman. If it has to do with the Reconquista then I have a feeling this Cold War with Gallia has just heated up."

* * *

><p>When Konrad and his contingent of officers arrived in the Throne Room, the princess was already in deep conversation with several of her advisers.<p>

"...I'm telling you, your Highness, it could be just a military exercise..."

"Don't be ridiculous, a sea-based fleet of ships isn't an exercise, it's an invasion force!"

Henrietta was trying to regain control of the conversation when she saw John Konrad enter with his subordinates. Abandoning decorum she stood up and called out to him.

"John Konrad! We have terrible news!"

All eyes pivoted back to the newcomer. Colonel Konrad, still dressed in his duty ACU's, stepped forward.

"What news, your Majesty?"

Henrietta lowered her eyes, and one of her advisers, the general with the silver gorget and ermine cape, stepped forward.

"In recent months we have inserted several cells of spies within the ranks of the Reconquista and the Gallian Militia. Last night one of those spies came back to us, badly wounded."

The noble took a deep breath and sighed.

"Out of the four score of assets, he was the only survivor, and he passed away early this morning, but not before telling us some chilling news."

He paused, then continued.

"We have found that King Jozef of Gallia, angered by the violation of his sovereignty by the Outworlders and the apparent slight by Tristain, has aligned himself with the Republic of Albion and the Reconquista."

Agnès de Milan let out a gasp, which was echoed by several in the court. Henrietta lowered her head in shame, Konrad's face was unreadable as he spoke.

"What else, General du Poitiers?"

The general continued.

"There is more, Lord General Konrad. Our spy obtained news that the Reconquista plans another invasion of Tristain, and plans to do so soon."

Henrietta raised her head.

"Will they attack Tristainia again, General?"

The noble shook his head.

"No, your majesty. Their losses were significant enough that they were unable to rebuild their airship fleet, and the loss of their ironclad dreadnought was a crippling blow. But they still have a large supply of sea-sailing ships, and in all probability it will be a sea-based invasion. If my spy's intelligence was to be believed, the Reconquista plan to make a beachhead to the north, where they will lay siege to the strategically important port twin cities of Brugues and Kales."

There were more gasps heard in the throne room. Konrad nodded.

"Did your spy find out how many are numbered in this invasion fleet?"

General du Poitiers continued.

"It is a smaller invasion force, but no less deadly. It would appear as if the Reconquista have learned from their previous mistakes, as my spy told stories of repeating rifles like your own Outworlder weapons, as well as massive siege engines that move by tracks and steam."

The colonel nodded and turned to face his men.

"Gentlemen, it would appear as if the Reconquista haven't learned their lesson. Effective immediately we are in a Code Red, I want a combat effectiveness assessment of all the weapons at our disposal done right away."

He looked over to Lt. McPherson.

"McPherson, I want you and Lt. Gordon to go over the Royal Arsenal, make sure that everything, from the heavy artillery and gatling guns down to the Henri-Martini rifles are back in operational status."

The lieutenant saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

He looked over to Bowles.

"Lieutenant Bowles, I want you to fly Knight-Commander Agnès de Milan back to the Academy and have them muster all able-bodied mages and students. I want them and all members of the 33rd and Delta Squad mustered back here at the Palace by 1800 this evening, understood?"

Bowles smiled.

"Loud and clear, sir!"

He turned to Alex.

"Private Walker, I want you to serve as crew chief to the lieutenant. You are to help out in any capacity needed, but then I need you back here to help get our weapons back to combat effectiveness."

Alex snapped a smart salute.

"Roger that, sir."

"Pardon the intrusion, Lord General."

Konrad turned to the owner of the voice, and Agnès took a step forward.

"I would like to take a contingent of Griffon Guards on this expedition, as a show of force in case there are any Gallian or Reconquista sympathizers at the Academy."

Konrad glanced over to the princess, who gave a nod of consent. He then turned back to the blonde knight.

"If Princess Henrietta consents, then you are authorized to muster the Griffon Guards."

He glanced around.

"Alright, you all know your duties, go about them. Dismissed!"

And with that Col. Konrad and the princess left, leaving the other soldiers and Royal Guards in the throne room. Alex started to file out with the other officers and grinned at Agnès as he left.

"Well, good luck flying those flying mammal mash-ups...I'll make sure the El-Tee goes slow enough not to leave you slow pokes in his dust."

A mischievous smiled crossed the female knight's lips.

"Why, Alex darling what in Brimir's name are you talking about? You're going to be my standard bearer with the Griffon Guards."

Confusion spread across the young private's face, followed by realization and horror.

"Oh noooo! No way I'm flying a fucking griffon again...and you can't make me!"

He quickly turned to the three officers Bowles, Gordon and McPherson, all of whom were grinning broadly.

"Help me out here, El-Tee! You need me as a crew chief, right?"

Bowles chuckled and shook his head.

"Sorry private, on this one I'll have to defer to the Commander on this one."

He left Private Walker speechless, only to be jarred from his reverie by Agnès grabbing his elbow and leading him towards the stables. He struggled in the female knight's grip.

"Hey! C'mon, let go! I don't want to fly something that doesn't have seat belts! I want to live to the ripe old age of 25!"

She huffed at the young soldier's protests.

"Hmph! Stop being such a baby and come on, or I'll lead you by your ear again!"

* * *

><p><strong>(near noon, the Tristain Academy of Magic)<strong>

The midday silence in the Wind Courtyard was shattered by the staccato bark of a 7.62 x 39mm bullets being fired at a group of empty wine bottles downwind. One of the bottles shattered, but the group around the other bottles just erupted in an explosion of grass clumps and dirt clods. Saito felt a hand lightly swat him on the top of the head. He paused in his firing and looked up at Sgt. Crosby.

"I told you, you shouldn't be rockn'rolling on full auto, the ammo cheat spell won't prevent your weapon's barrel from overheating or the firing spring in the receiver to break."

Crosby pointed to the fire selection lever on the receiver's side.

"Remember to secure your weapon whenever you're not firing it."

Saito nodded, pushing the lever to 'Safety', then he heard a familiar voice speak up from behind.

"C'mon sarge, quit going all drill sergeant nasty on the kid."

Crosby looked up and saw Sgt. Lugo standing there with his hands in his pockets and grinning. The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Lugo, like it or not Saito is now a Specialist and part of the Damned 33rd. If he's going to make use of that AK he's going to have to learn not only how to fire it, but how to care for it. This isn't a video game, after all."

The Delta sniper walked up and helped Saito to his feet. The teen stood up and rubbed his shoulder.

"Man, this rifle sure has a nasty kick to it."

Lugo reached into the bellows pocket of his uniform and pulled out a long strip of ragged cloth.

"Here, this is a trick I learned in Delta Force. If you wrap the buttstock with a strip of cloth it will cut down on the recoil, and keep your shoulder from bruising up."

He glanced up and saw Crosby giving him a disapproving look.

"Hey, it cuts down on the recoil and also makes it more accurate."

Saito finished wrapping the cloth around the end of the folding stock, and heard another voice.

"What sort of bad habits are you teaching our specialist, Delta-Boy?"

Lugo grinned at the newcomer.

"Just showing him some new tricks on how to be a better grunt, Grunt."

Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes chuckled and gave a nod of greeting to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"So what brings you out to the Wind Courtyard, Sgt. Forbes?"

The staff sergeant shrugged.

"Just looking around for Tabitha's familiar."

He pulled an apple out of a pocket in his assault vest and turned it around in his gloved hand.

"I figured she might be hungry."

Forbes didn't notice the smirk on Lugo's face, and Crosby just shook his head.

"That's a negative, sergeant. Haven't seen Sylphid anywhere."

The older sergeant shrugged, and was about to take a bite out of the apple when a female voice echoed across the courtyard.

"Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes!"

Forbes looked up and immediately flushed pink from his ears to his chin. Even his shaved scalp seemed to blush as a tall blue-haired girl running and carrying a large wicker basket. Following at a slower pace was the bespectacled blue-haired bookworm Tabitha. Even from this distance Crosby could see an uncharacteristic smile on the girl's lips. Illococoo dropped the basket and ran up to Forbes, embracing him in a tight hug. The sergeant was completely unprepared for it and almost toppled over from the onslaught. He heard a snicker and saw Lugo grinning at him.

"What the heck is so funny, Delta-Boy?"

Lugo continued to grin.

"Oh, nothing sarge. I'm just happy that you were able to get a girlfriend like the rest of your grunt buddies."

Forbes tried unsuccessfully to pull Illococoo off of him, but to no avail. Again the sergeant wondered how girl could have such a strong grip. He glared at the Delta sniper.

"Listen, Sergeant Lugo, for the record it's nothing like that. She is a friend, who just so happens to be a girl. No funny stuff, I promise you."

Lugo shrugged.

"That makes her a girlfriend, sarge. And honestly I can't blame ya, she's a real cutie."

Tabitha finally caught up to the group and picked up the basket. Illococoo finally let go of Forbes.

"Oh, thanks for picking that up, Big Sis!"

She turned back to Forbes, and her large cobalt-blue eyes started to take on the characteristic shimmer.

"Big Sis and I are going to have a picnic, and I told her that you should come with us!"

The staff sergeant found himself yet again mesmerized by the tall girl's shimmering eyes, and looked back to Crosby.

"Um, sergeant? A little help?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Sorry, Forbes, this is above my pay grade."

Forbes looked back down at the girl's pleading eyes and heard words coming out of his mouth, even though he didn't remember consenting to say them.

"...Ah, sure, why not?"

Illococoo beamed a large smile.

"Wonderful! There's this great spot in the forest just outside the school, come!"

She then grabbed Forbes' gloved hand with both of her own hands, and in display that defied gravity and all laws of physics, pulled the sergeant off his feet and ran at a high rate of speed. Crosby shook his head and glanced back at Tabitha.

"Well, it looks like your familiar has found a friend in Forbes."

She small smile gew a bit larger, and she nodded.

"Illococoo likes Mr. Forbes. He's the only one who really treats her as a person even in Dragon form."

She pushed her glasses back up off her nose.

"And she really likes eating apples, too."

Crosby nodded.

"Alright, well you guys have fun and just make sure that Forbes gets back here before sundown, don't want to write him up for being AWOL."

Tabitha seemed puzzled as the other soldiers snickered at Crosby's comment.

"Um, nevermind, just have fun, okay?"

The blue-haired girl gave another smile and nodded. Lugo watched the girl walk off and follow the dust trail that Illococoo left behind, and thrust his hands back into his pockets.

"Well, speaking of chow I'm going to the kitchen and getting some food. You guys coming?"

Crosby shrugged.

"We'll be there in a bit, Lugo, just save some of that bread for us."

"Roger that, sarge."

Crosby turned back to Saito.

"Alright, Specialist, before we call it a morning let's field strip that AK one more time, just like I showed you."

Saito nodded and unshouldered his weapon. He set the weapon down on the old blanket he was using as a firing position and pushed his thumb against the bottom of the receiver. The receiver's cover slid off with a smooth *snick*. Crosby watched with approval as the Tokyo teen deftly removed the recoil assembly and the bolt assembly.

"Good job, keep it and always remember to lay it out in the same order you disassembled it."

Crosby glanced up and saw a familiar pink-haired girl approach. Ever since Louise had successfully cast a Void spell in class her mood swings seemed to be less and less. As she got closer Crosby noticed that the pinkette had a large smile on her face. A smile that faltered as she got close enough to see what Saito was doing. She wrinkled her nose.

"What is that awful smell?! And what are you doing breaking apart that hunk of junk?"

Saito wiped the gun oil off his hands with a cleaning cloth and stood up.

"Crosby-san is showing me how to strip and clean in the field, see?"

The pinkette's cheeks flushed at his comment.

"S-strip?! What do you mean, strip? Are you being some sort of pervert?"

Crosby shook his head.

"No, Louise, he's talking about disassembling the rifle when you're not at base; it's call field-stripping and it's not dirty."

He glanced down at the partially disassembled weapon.

"Well, not in the way you think, anyways."

Louise huffed and stood up straighter.

"Hmph, whatever. Familiar, when you are done training with Sir Crosby, you are to clean up and come see me in my room."

She blushed lightly, but then recovered.

"A-and it's not a command, I-I'm requesting that you come!"

Then without another word the pinkette turned on her heels and left. Saito gawked at the small figure as she walked off and disappeared into one of the towers, then looked up to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"What was all that about, Crosby-san?"

Crosby shook his head.

"No idea, but I'd do as she says. Finish up here and get cleaned up. Oh, and Saito?"

The teen looked back up.

"Make sure to pack your body armor, in case the walking IED lives up to her name again."

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later, Louise's dorm room)<strong>

Both Saito and Crosby were stunned as they walked into the pinkette's room. At Crosby's insistence the teen had washed up and put on clean clothes, in this case his 33rd uniform, and was wearing his PALS armor for good measure. Crosby was still in his black ACU's and Zulu Squad armor, but had forgone the helmet. The sight that caused both of them to be rooted to the spot was table in the middle of Louise's room, usually overflowing with homework scrolls, was now decorated with a white linen tablecloth and brimming with platters of food. And, to both Saito and Crosby's continued shock, Louise was setting silverware down. She looked up and chirped.

"Ah! You both made it, good!"

The pinkette gestured to a chair by her place.

"Come Saito! I prepared lunch!"

Saito walked up and took a cover off one silver dish and took a deep whiff of the rich smells coming from it.

"This is amazing Louise! What's the occasion?"

The pinkette smiled.

"Well…I haven't treated you to a nice meal in a while…since…you know..."

She looked up and saw Crosby giving her a look. His eyes, normally the color of cold ice, now were alight with amusement and they gave her a knowing look. She quickly blushed.

"I-it's not like that! I-I…I also I got my first 'A' in Chevereuse's Transmutation class, so I thought a celebration is in order!"

Crosby just chuckled and took a seat. Saito had already helped himself to the roast and had taken a large bite.

"Mmmm! This is delicious, Louise!"

The older soldier had taken a more modest portion and sampled it.

"Hey, what do you know, it **is** good."

The pinkette set down her wine glass and glared at Crosby.

"Don't act so surprised, Sir Crosby, I can cook! I have many talents!"

Saito tore off a chunk of bread, but as he chewed it a thoughtful expression crossed his face.

"Hmm, you sure this is your cooking, Louise? Because this bread sure tastes like Siesta's handiwork…"

The teen reached over a tasted some of the cream sauce for the roast.

"Yep, this is definitely Siesta's cooking, I'd know it anywhere."

Crosby saw the characteristic twitch in the pinkette's left eyelid, which was a foreshadowing that the IED known as Louise was about to detonate.

"You stupid, ingrateful dog! I set it up, that's what matters-"

The sergeant had tuned out Louise's whining, because he heard the distinctive thumping of rotors cutting through the air. He pushed away from the table and looked out the window. On the horizon he could make out a shape, but a quick check with his mini binoculars confirmed it.

With the magnification Crosby could make out the bulbous dual canopy of the Mi-24 Hind approaching them, but he also could see what looked like a covey of eagles flying alongside it. Upon closer inspection they were in fact, Griffon Guards, carrying the Royal Tristainian Standard. Something that felt like a premonition crept up Crosby's spine.

"This can't be good." He said to himself.

_(AN: This chapter I wasn't as happy with, it was harder than expected to get back into the groove. And we did need some more comic relief with Louise's tsundere, because here shortly it's going to shift right back into SO:TL territory with the next upcoming battle(s). Next chapter shouldn't take as long, until then!)_


	127. Fall In, Fall Out

_(AN: Another week, another chapter. I'm on a roll, so you guys get to benefit. Enjoy! FYI I'm bumping this chapter to M for reasons that will become apparent...)_

"Just focus…just focus ahead…"

Private First Class Alex Walker never thought he was scared of heights. After all, as part of the Damned 33rd's sniper cadre he was used to zip-lining between skyscrapers in the ruined section of downtown Dubai, often a hundred stories up or more, and then later as a door gunner on Bravo Six. So the young sniper never considered himself acrophobic. Until now.

"…and whatever you do…don't look down…"

No sooner had he said it, then Alex took his eyes off the horizon and glanced down. His feet were dangling in stirrups and he could see that he was easily a thousand feet off the ground. And the only thing keeping him in the saddle was…his legs. He closed his eyes briefly, and then heard his CO chuckle in his headset.

_"__What's the matter private? Aren't you enjoying the view?"_

Alex cursed to himself. He couldn't hear anything with the ear-covering headsets, other than the dull roar of air rushing past him. But he could feet the air vibrate as Big Ugly One's rotors cut through the air. He opened his eyes and looked off to his left. There was the Mi-24 Hind, and he could swear he could see the shit-eating grin on the pilot's face. He briefly took one hand off the reigns to key his mic.

"Ah, that's a negative sir, status is scared shitless! I'm traveling on a mythical creature which has the front end is an eagle and the ass end of a horse solo at roughly the speed of Heat, Warp One…"

He heard Agnès' voice chuckle in his earpiece. They had given the female knight a spare radio to maintain contact on the journey and once she got the hang of it she made every use of it.

_"__Oh, stop being such a big baby, you silly boy! It's not that bad, and you're doing just fine."_

Bowles' voice chuckled again as he continued.

_"__So Private, what's the Pucker Factor on this ride?"_

Alex shook his head and clung onto the reigns tighter.

"Pucker Factor is 9.7, sir!"

Bowles' voice came through the static.

_"__Well, considering when you first started training it was all the way up to 11, I'd say that's an improvement."_

The Hind banked off to the side.

_"__Anyways, I have a visual on the Academy so ETA's less than five mikes. Try not to shit yourself in front of your girlfriend in the meantime, private."_

* * *

><p>Staff Sergeant Forbes was sleeping off the enormous picnic lunch Tabitha and her younger sister set up for him, when he heard the distinctive whupping noise of an approaching helicopter. He opened his eyes, and shielded them against the glare of the sun with his gloved hand. He could make out the silhouette of the Mi-24 Hind flying overhead, along with some things flying in formation around it. They sort of looked like griffons, but it was too far for him to tell. Then a flash of blue filled his vision, as Tabitha flew overhead on her blue dragon familiar. The dragon Sylphid circled and slowly landed beside him. Forbes saw that Slyphid was eyeing one of his pockets and chuckled.<p>

"Don't worry there, I didn't forget your apple."

He reached into his pocket and produced an apple, which he offered to Sylphid with his open palm. The dragon crunched up the apple, and Forbes saw Tabitha hop off and slowly walk over to him. He also noticed that she was carrying her large stave.

"What's the deal?"

Tabitha pushed her glasses off the bridge of her nose.

"Trouble brewing. Should get back to the school."

Forbes looked behind him.

"What about Illococoo?"

He didn't see the smalls smile that crossed Tabitha's lips, but he did hear the wind pick up, followed by a bright flash of light that temporarily blinded him. As the sergeant rubbed his eyes he heard a familiar feminine voice.

"Here I am, Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes!"

As Forbes' sight came back to him he could make out the sight of the taller version of Tabitha that was Illococoo. As his eyes focused he also realized that she was also stark naked. He quickly shut his eyes and turned his head, only to feel the girl wrapping her arms around his chest. He could also feel her bare rack through his vest, which also surprised Forbes.

"What's wrong Sergeant Forbes? Are you alright, did you get blinded by my transformation?"

Then something clicked in Forbes' brain, and he opened his eyes. He tried very hard to focus on Illococoo's face and her large eyes as he spoke.

"Y-you mean you're the dragon, er, I mean Sylphid?"

The girl smiled and nodded.

"Yep! I use nature magic to transform back and forth!"

She hugged Forbes tighter, which was bordering on compressing the sergeant's ribcage, and continued.

"I didn't know when to tell you, but you were so nice to me and fed me apples. And I'm so happy when you're not being sad."

Illococoo looked up a Forbes, and her large blue eyes started shimmering again.

"I wish all the bad things that happened to you would just go away, then you'd be happy all the time!"

Forbes didn't know how to respond to that, so he looked over to Tabitha, who had set down a bundle of clothes for her familiar's human form. He also noticed she was smiling.

"We should go."

* * *

><p>Crosby had made it down to the Wind Courtyard in time to see the Hind rear up and come to a hover. As it descended the landing gear lowered as well, and when the gunship landed its tires kissed the grass. The Zulu Squad sergeant watched as the Hind slowly taxied up toward the main tower entrance of the school. He also noticed the Griffon Guards land in formation beside the gunship. He heard Louise's hig-pitched voice behind him.<p>

"What does this mean? Why is an entire platoon of Griffon Guards coming to the school?"

Before Crosby could respond a cluster of speakers appeared overhead, and a familiar voice spoke over the din of the helicopter's engines.

_"__Well, well, well, looks like the Rascally Reconquista haven't learned their lesson from the last Curb Stomp Battle we gave `em, and are asking for another can, make that a case, of whoop-ass courtesy of the Damned 33__rd__!"_

A peppy march began playing(1), and the Radioman continued.

_"__We're gonna need every swinging dicks and chicks on board for this one, so on behalf of the her Majesty the Princess I'm asking all you listeners out there to do you your part! All able bodied and patriotic denizens of Tristain are encouraged to enlist and report to your nearest palace for processing, he-heh, especially if you're a Walking IED in desperate need of a boob job!"_

Crosby glanced down and saw the pinkette glare at the speakers, and shook his head. The voice continued as the music swelled in crescendo.

_"__So do your patriotic duty and help the Damned 33__rd__ annihilate the Evil Axis of Albion and Gallia, and put the kibosh on Kaiser Jozef!"_

He saw the pilot's cockpit canopy open, and watched as Lt. Bowles climbed down. As the Zulu Squad sergeant squinted he saw that the lead rider of the Griffon Guards was none other than Agnès de Milan. She was being followed by a soldier in digital ACU's, judging by his unsteady feet and the large sniper rifle slung across his back it had to be Alex.

* * *

><p>Professor Chevreuse was just about to do roll call in her class when the door flung open. She turned and opened her mouth to admonish whichever tardy student had chosen this unsubtle entrance but stopped. There marched in several Griffon Guards with the Royal Tristainian livery, led by a female knight with short peach-blonde hair. She turned her green eyes to the professor and gave a light nod.<p>

"My apologies for interrupting, professor, but this cannot wait."

Chevreuse nodded uncertainly.

"W-why, yes of course, but what is this all about?"

The female knight glanced over to the class.

"I need to make an announcement, by your leave?"

When the professor nodded again, the knight addressed the group of puzzled students.

"My name is Agnès de Milan, Chevalier of the Griffon Guards, and Knight-Commander of Her Majesty's Royal Sharpshooters. I bring dire news, once again Tristain is under attack by the evil Reconquista."

There was a collective gasp from the students, and Agnès continued.

"Therefore, all able-bodied students who have passed their Rite of Summoning are required to enlist, we will need all of your skills to defeat the enemy."  
>She paused, and her green eyes glinted.<p>

"Also, any students who are from Albion or Gallia are to report to me immediately. That is all."

She turned to go, but heard an accented voice speak up.

"And what about Romalians, my lovely?"

Agnès narrowed her eyes at the young man who spoke in the front row. He was another pretty boy, whose main distinctive characteristic was his mismatched eyes.

"And what is your name, Romalian?"

The young man smiled.

"Julio Chesaré, Knight of Romalia and priest whose vows are bound to the court of His Holiness Vittorio."

He gave the female knight a sly wink.

"Although if you're interested I can break my vows for you."

Agnès narrowed her eyes as she walked up to his desk. Quick as lightening she lashed out and grabbed Julio by his shirt and yanked him up, so as to be at eye level with him.

"I have uses for all kinds of mages and soldiers. I have no use for smart-mouths, the only smart-mouthed soldiers I know are dead ones."

She let go, causing him to fall back into a heap. The female knight turned to leave, but paused.

"And I will try to forget your salacious comment when I speak with my Outworlder boyfriend, whose deadliness with his sniper rifle is only surpassed by his jealousy over me."

She smirked to herself as she saw the young man blanch, and she left the classroom without another word. As she watched her subordinates file out suddenly she felt her bottom being pinched. She gave startled squeal and whirled around with her revolver drawn, only to see Alex's smirking face. The young private was leaning against a woven tapestry and grinned at the glaring female knight.

"Yep, your butt is still nice and squeezable."

Agnès glared at him.

"You dirty boy! I'll-"

But the rest of her admonishment was cut off when Alex leaned in and kissed her on the lips. When he pulled back, the female knight was blushing.

"You-you're really incorrigible, Alex."

He grinned again.

"I know, babe. It's just you're so cute when you go all bossy boots on these local yokels."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of students rushing out of the classrooms. Alex was momentarily distracted by the sudden influx of teenagers rushing past, then he looked over and saw Agnès was gone. Then a hand in a doorway yanked him out of sight.

It took Alex a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then he saw the person who pulled him in. Agnès leaned in and kissed her boy soldier more thoroughly.

"We have to keep up appearances, Alex."

She then surprised the private by giving him a hickey, causing him to yelp. She chuckled as she shushed the private.

"Now, now, we don't want to bring any unwanted attention do we?"

Alex rubbed the sore spot on his neck, but still grinning.

"And what was that for?"

She smiled.

"That was is still payback for calling me fat."

Agnès undid the clasps of her traveling cloak, causing it to fall to the ground. She then undid the buttons on her forest green tunic, and removed her gauntlets. The female knight continued to undress as the private continued to stare. When the last of her clothes fell to the ground she brushed her bare skin against Alex's digital ACU's, before giving him a deep, passionate kiss. When she pulled away, leaving the private gasping for breath, she smiled salaciously.

"…And this is for pinching my rump!"

She gestured with her revolver, and the sight of his girlfriend stark naked brandishing a pistol caused Alex's temperature to rise.

"Now, off with those clothes, you naughty boy!"

He grinned.

"Yes ma'am!"

* * *

><p>(1) The music the Radioman is playing is 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again'<p>

* * *

><p><em>(AN: So, this took less time than expected, things are going to heat up very quickly, so I'm getting the non-battle chapters out in record time, with the idea that the battle chapters will take longer since they'll require research and the use of my Beta. Until then!)<em>


	128. Rise n' Shine

_(AN: Welp, had another 'life happens' bit that slowed me down, so I thought I'd churn this out real quick. Really don't have much of an excuse for taking so long, other than stubbing out the upcoming tank battles is takin longer than expected.)_

**(Tristainia Royal Palace, local time 0600)**

1st Lt. Gordon woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door to his quarters. He and McPherson had been up since the wee hours of the morning getting the Royal Arsenal battle ready. He reached over to where Tiffania was, but the elf girl was not there. Her spot on the bed was warm, and had been slept in, but she must have gotten up already. The knocking on the door persisted, so Gordon checked his watch and cursed. It was almost 0600. He heard a muffled voice through the door.

"Hey Gordon! Rise n' shine!"

His door opened, and Lt. McPherson entered. The other officer looked about.

"Speaking of rising and shining, I hope I'm interrupting something?"

Gordon shook his head.

"That's a negative."

McPherson grinned.

"And speaking of Tiffania, where is the top-heavy elf child-bride at?"

Gordon threw the covers off and stood up.

"No idea. Some times she does this portal thingie and vanishes."

He saw the look on McPherson's face and shrugged.

"Yeah, I know. Last time I asked her about it she went off on this long complicated explanation of how her kinfolk's magic crap works and it gave me a headache."

He pulled on a tee shirt and reached for his ACU tunic.

"What's the sitch? I assume you had other reasons for waking me up besides razzing me."

The other officer held up a long-range radio.

"Got a sit-rep from Crosby at 0530 this morning. He said that the Commander's mustered about 150 nobles, mages and students. They're inbound to the palace this morning."

Gordon nodded.

"Well, it's not an army but it's a start."

McPherson gestured over his shoulder.

"I was on my way to debrief the Colonel, you probably should tag along and present the results of our labors last night."

The Heavy Trooper snapped on his pistol belt and grabbed his cover.

"Speaking of rising, just how is Crosby going to get all those students and mages out of bed this early in the morning?"

McPherson shook his head.

"No idea, but knowing the sarge I'm sure he has a trick up his sleeve."

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristain Academy of Magic, local time 0605)<strong>

Dawn broke over the school's courtyards, and aside from a stray bird chirping there was no sound. The halls were still dark and silent, as most of the student body and faculty were still asleep. That wouldn't be the case for long, as the early morning stillness was shattered by the Jester's booming voice, with a bugle sounding reveille blaring through the speakers hovering over the Wind Courtyard.

_"__Allright boys and girls this is your early morning wake-up call! Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey, up and at `em, rise n' shine and drop your cocks and grab your socks! We've got a big day today and can't have any slackers, last one out of bed gets the fire hose wake-up call!"_

Agnès de Milan woke with a start, and for a moment she didn't recognize her surroundings. The luxurious quarters with its feather bed was a far cry from her more Spartan billet back at the Sharpshooter barracks, then she remembered. She was still at the Academy, after her tryst with Alex she spent most of the afternoon interviewing students and faculty signing up for the upcoming war with Gallia and the Reconquista. She glanced over to her side, where the bed's other occupant was.

Private First Class Alex Walker was surprisingly still asleep, lying on his stomach and snoring into his pillow. Agnès smiled and ran one of her fingers down the boy soldier's bare back, pausing at a bizarre pattern tattooed on his right shoulderblade. It was an intricate pattern of interlocking knots and concentric circles, with a feline silhouette. Not for the first time she wondered about the world that these Outworlders came from. Her thoughts were interrupted by Alex speaking up, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"If you keep that up, I'll be forced to get up and we'll have to do another round in the sack."

The private rolled over and stretched, checking his watch.

"Jeez, it's not even six-thirty! What the hell is Darden doing waking us all up like this?"

Agnès smiled as she sat up and lit a candle by the bedside.

"We have a long ride ahead of us, transporting the new recruits back to the palace. Perhaps your Jester merely wants us to get an early start."

The female knight let out a squeal as Alex grabbed her from behind and wrestled her back into bed. After a brief struggle as the two got entangled in the sheets it ended with Agnès once again being on top. She leaned in and kissed Alex on the lips.

"You'll never win that fight, you know. I won, again."

Alex shrugged his bare shoulders.

"Not from where I'm sitting, sweetie. I wanted you back in bed."

The female knight giggled and caressed the private's cheek.

"Can I ask you something, Alex?"

He grinned.

"Sure!"

Agnès sat back on her haunches, allowing Alex to sit up. She then leaned over and ran a finger over the inked pattern on his shoulder. The private chuckled.

"You're wondering about the tattoo, right babe? It's just some ink that I got when I enlisted."

A brief shadow crossed the young soldier's face as he laid back down on the bed.

"Marty got inked first, when he first graduated from OCS, so I guess I followed suit."

The female knight folded her bare legs under herself and looked over to Alex.

"What does it mean? Does it have some significance in your world?"

That got Alex to smile, and he rolled over to give Agnès a better look.

"It's a Celtic tattoo, our family was originally from Scotland."

When he glanced back and saw the puzzled look on his girlfriend's face he smiled.

"It's sort of the equivalent of northern Albion."

A light came on in the female knight's eyes.

"Ah, you mean the Caledonian region?"

When Alex nodded Agnès covered her mouth and giggled.

"What's so funny?"

She paused in her mirth.

"Well, Caledonia is a wild region that was never settled by the Albionians. Why, even the Reconquista refuse to set foot there, they said that it's inhabited by bloodthirsty naked savages that paint themselves blue."

Then it was Alex's turn to chuckle.

"Yep, that sounds like Scotland."

He gestured to the tattoo.

"Anyways, since our family was from Scotland Marty and I each picked a Celtic animal motif for our tattoos. Mine was a cat, although I didn't realize it at the time it fit."

His face darkened again.

"Marty's was a griffon, and in hindsight that fit him as well."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud burst of static coming from Alex's radio, and the sound of Sgt. Crosby's voice coming through.

_"This is a general announcement to all members of the 33rd and Delta! I want you dressed and knees to the breeze in five minutes, otherwise I'm coming in there and drag you out by your collective nutsacks! Move!"_

* * *

><p><strong>(Five minutes later)<strong>

Private Walker emerged from his guest quarters fully dressed, although he was still fumbling with the sling on his M-99. As he made his way through the hallway he saw other students stumbling out of their rooms. He chuckled and shook his head at the sight of the redheaded student named Kirche yawning and theatrically complaining to Tabitha about having to wake up at this early hour. Suddenly Alex heard his name being called.

"So, finally decided to grace us with your presence, Private?"

Alex turned around and saw Lt. Bowles was walking towards him. He noticed the officer's slight limp as he favored his natural leg over the wooden one. The private grinned at Bowles.

"That leg going to keep you from strafing the Reconquista target dummies, sir?"

Bowles returned the private's grin.

"Better hope not, Private, or you may actually have something to shoot at this time around."

He looked over Alex's shoulder and saw the Commander of the Royal Sharpshooters approaching. Lt. Bowles also noticed the blush on her cheeks as she made eye contact with the private.

"Alex! I-I have to muster the rest of the troops, will you meet me in the courtyard after your debriefing?"

Alex smiled.

"Sure thing, babe. Carry on."

The lieutenant watched her walk off and grinned.

""Sooo, private. Managed to get a Pump n' Dump in before deployment, eh?"

Alex flushed pink at the comment.

"Ah, with all due respect, that's a bit personal, sir."

Bowles continued to grin as they both made their way down the steps and into the courtyard.

"It's okay, Private Walker, you never know when you'll get another chance at hitting that, so you gotta get it in while you can."

As they made their way through the hallway Alex saw another familiar face. The innkeeper of the Charming Fairies was directing some servants who were carrying large crates. When the invasion of Brugues was apparent, Bowles had suggested that Scarron and his daughters evacuate their inn and set up shop in the school, where the walls would keep them safe. Scarron himself was almost unrecognizable without his trademarked makeup and drag queen outfit, and when he saw the two soldiers approach he waved at them.

"Hello there gentlemen! How are you two this fine morning!"

The innkeeper gave some final instructions to the servants and dismissed them, then he approached.

"And good morning to you, Timothy! Since I've found you here, could you help me?"

Bowles shrugged.

"Sure, Scarron, whatcha need?"

"Have you seen my daughter Jessica around? I can't find the silly girl anywhere, and I need an extra pair of hands to help unload the cart."

Alex noticed the flush on Lt. Bowles' ears creep down as he cleared his throat nervously.

"Ah, that's a negative, Scarron. I-I can't say as I have."

Scarron let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"My boy, in case you've forgotten I have daughters, I know how Nature works."

He playfully poked Bowles in the ribs.

"And I've been a soldier before, I know what soldiers like to do before they go to war, yes? They like to, as you Outworlders say, blow off some smoke?"

Bowles smiled.

"It's steam, sir. And to answer your question Jessica was running a bit slow this morning, but she'll be around shortly."

Satisfied, the innkeeper chuckled again and bade his goodbyes. After Scarron was out of earshot Alex grinned at his CO.

"Looks like that barmaid got her some attention too, sir. What was that little crack about pumping and dumping?"

Bowles grinned.

"Eighty-six the lip, private, or I'll order your girlfriend to horsewhip you."

As they entered the courtyard both soldiers saw that the area was packed with people. Some were saddling horses, the Griffon Guards were also checking their winged mounts. Some students were saying goodbye to their girlfriends, whilst others were coming along. Alex noticed that the blonde flop Guiche was bringing his squeeze Blondie along, although she didn't seem as enthused about it as he was.

There was a sudden squeal or _kyaaa_ and Alex looked up, then chuckled at the sight of the maid Siesta was hugging Sgt. Lugo in a tight grip. Even from this distance the lieutenant could see that her large blue eyes were shimmering.

"Please! Please John let me come with you!"

Lugo looked down at Siesta, and wiped away a tear.

"Look sweetie, where we're going is a warzone, it's not safe for you."

He gestured to the school grounds.

"This school is the safest place to be, I don't want you to be in danger."

Siesta buried her face in his chest and her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

"I-I don't want to lose you, John! Please promise me you'll come back!"

The Delta sniper gently lifted Siesta's chin so they were making eye contact.

"I promise I'll come back for you, okay?"

The maid blinked back some tears and nodded once. She looked over and saw a figure wearing black and white armor approach.

"Sir Crosby! Please promise me something!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant paused as Siesta walked up to him, her eyes locking with his.

"Please promise me that you'll keep John Lugo safe, will you?"

Sgt. Crosby pulled his skull balaclava off his face and smiled.

"Don't worry, Siesta. I'll keep Sgt. Lugo safe."

That earned him another kyaaa and a hug from the maid, and with that she skipped off to her duties. Lugo watched Siesta run off and chuckled.

"Well sarge, all that's left is to find out where Saito and his IED girlfriend are."

As if on cue the two soldiers heard a loud high-pitched voice ring out across the courtyard.

"You perverted dog! Get out of there!"

Lugo smiled.

"Welp, shall we intervene again and prevent Louise from hurting our Specialist too badly?"

Sure enough, as Crosby made his way over to the Black Hawk, callsign Bravo Zero, he saw a familiar scene unfold. There was Kirche smushing Saito's face into her abundant cleavage while the pinkette was ineffectually hitting him with her riding crop. And once again, Crosby had to intervene.

Louise was furiously hitting her familiar, and brought her riding crop up to punish the pervert again, only to bring her hand down and find it empty. She looked up and glared at the large man wearing black and white armor.

"Give that back!"

Crosby returned the pinkette's glare, and held her riding crop out of reach.

"Unless you want a gym sock stuffing into that big mouth of yours, can it."

He glanced over to redhead.

"Kindly quit trying to smother the Specialist, he has a Black Hawk to power up and fly. And he can't fly if he's anemic from oxygen deprivation or blood loss from nosebleeds."

Kirche let out a throaty feminine chortle and let go of Saito, causing him to fall to the ground.

"Ah, excellent, then I'll be riding with Saito on his airship!"

Crosby helped Saito up and dusted him off.

"You're square, Specialist?"

Saito nodded once, so the sergeant gestured towards the chopper.

"Then you know the drill. Get the `Bird powered up and us in the air ."

The Tokyo teen grinned and gave a salute.

"Roger that, sarge!"

As Saito walked off Crosby diverted his attention to Louise.

"You can ride up front with Saito, my lady, but you have to behave yourself. No outbursts, of the physical or magical kind, okay?"

Louise briefly flushed as pink as her hair, but then nodded. He then slid open the rear passenger door of the Black Hawk and turned back to the assembled group of students and mages.

"Any of you who don't have rides, we've got enough room for ten people. Anyone who wants to fly with us, mount up."

Crosby then took a seat by the open door and checked his gear. His attention was instantly diverted by the overpowering smell of lavender, as he felt someone rubbing up against his armor. He looked up and saw that Kirche had taken a seat by the door, which was coincidentally also close to him. The redhead winked at the him as she continued to rub up against him seductively.

"Maybe you'll let me wield the Staff of Destruction again, if I ask you nicely?"

Crosby checked his P90 and shook his head.

"Not likely, Kirche. The last time was extenuating circumstances, you're not firing a grenade launcher in combat without at least a couple of weeks' training first. And as much as I enjoy you rubbing against me, it won't be safe when we're in the air. Strap yourself in."

The redhead pouted, but any retort Kirche was going to give was interrupted by the high-pitched whine of the Black Hawk's turbines powering up. Crosby pulled on the crew chief headset and heard Saito's voice.

_"__Thanks for the save back there, Crosby-san!"_

The sergeant watched as other students and mages stepped into the passenger area, then keyed his mic.

"Think nothing of it, but you really should know better by now, Specialist."

He paused as he saw Lugo climb aboard, and give him the thumbs-up. Crosby nodded and spoke into his radio again.

"Be advised, Specialist, last passenger aboard, we are clear for take-off."

_"__Roger that."_

Crosby looked out and saw the maid Siesta was still waving goodbye. Even from this distance the Zulu Squad sergeant could see her blue eyes shimmering, and tears streamed down her cheeks. As the main engines powered up and the blades started spinning, Crosby watched as the maid turned and ran back into the school. He glanced back in the crowded passenger compartment and paused. He made eye contact with Lugo and motioned him to put on the spare headset.

"Hey Lugo! Did you see Forbes anywhere?"

The Delta sniper chuckled.

_"Yeah, but he decided to take a different form of transportation."_

As the Black Hawk finally lifted off, Crosby saw a blue dragon fly by and smiled.

* * *

><p>Staff Sergeant Forbes wondered what possessed him to do it. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights, but as the wind rushed past his face and he saw a stone tower coming straight for him. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the tiny lithe pilot in front of him. She spoke up in a soft voice that somehow the sergeant could hear.<p>

"You're holding on too tight. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Tabitha gave a small smile, although Forbes couldn't see it.

"Sylphid won't let you fall, I promise."

Forbes opened his eyes a crack and instantly regretted it. The blue dragon splayed its wings and barely missed a Griffon rider. The inertia from the sudden movement almost caused him to fall off, Forbes cursed to himself and had no idea why he agreed to this. As he recalled, it may have had to do with the fact that Sylphid had asked him when she was in human form. Even now Forbes could recall Illococoo's large eyes shimmering as she pleaded for him to accompany her 'big sis' Tabitha to Tristainia.

He shook his head as he felt another buffet of wind that almost threw him back, and Forbes held onto the dragon's scales for dear life.

"That's not real comforting now, kid. If she really doesn't want to kill us she could slow down a bit."

The dragon let out a rumble which sounded almost like a chuckle as it banked off to the left and followed the two helicopters towards the capital of Tristian.

_(AN: Quick bit of trivia, as you may know the name Walker is a Scottish one, so that's where I got the idea of Alex and Martin having tats. And having them on their backs means you can't see Captain Walker's ink even at the end of the game :)_

_Also, for those who don't know, the Celtic cat was a stoic, silent and mysterious animal, so that sort of fits Alex to a tee. The griffon, in contrast is a symbol of duality, it can be either noble and brave, or selfish, violent and vengeful, so that also fits Marty._

_Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long, until then!)_


	129. Horseshoes and Hand-Grenades

_(AN: Hey! Look I got this out quicker, yay for me. Ouch, I just dislocated my arm whilst patting meself on the back…_

_So some of you were commenting that Crosby has been coming off as a bit of a jerkass in the last couple of chapters, well it gets explained here, as well as some much-needed comic relief, and the reappearance of an old friend…)_

"Hey, you okay?"

Crosby looked up from cleaning his P90 and saw Lugo standing in front of him. When they had arrived in Tristainia the officers were summoned to the barracks to be debriefed by Konrad, while Crosby and the other NCO's were rounding up whatever equipment they would need to defend Brugues. Forbes was helping Saito do a routine check of the Black Hawk, which left Crosby cleaning and checking his weapons. He smiled thinly.

"Yeah, I'm okay, why do you ask?"

It surprised Crosby that the normally jovial Delta sniper didn't return the sergeant's smile.

"Look, Crosby, you sure don't look okay to me. You've been acting terse towards Saito and gruff towards the students. Hell even Tabitha noticed it, and you know she's an introvert. So what gives?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"Look, everyone's on edge because of the war, it's just normal. I mean, it's not like I meant to snap at Kirche…or Louise…or Saito..."

He paused for a moment.

"Ah, shit I guess I have been a bit of a peckerwood here recently."

Then Lugo gave his trademarked grin.

"You got that right, except for the 'bit of a peckerwood' and 'recently'."

They shared a laugh, but when the laughter died down, Lugo's face became earnest again.

"All joking aside sarge, what gives?"

Crosby looked down at his partially reassembled submachine gun and closed his eyes.

"For the last couple of days all I've been thinking about were those soldiers who died in the First Battle for Tristainia…and how many of those deaths could have been avoided. Every time I see Lt. Bowles limp around on his leg I'm reminded of what we lost…"

Lugo placed a hand on Crosby's armored shoulder.

"Look sarge, what happened to Bowles and Tebby wasn't your fault."

Crosby looked up and glared at the Delta sniper, and Lugo was shocked to see that there was a tear in the Zulu Squad sergeant's eye.

"Don't tell me what I already know! Cromwell was to blame for their deaths…"

He lowered his eyes.

"Cromwell was to blame for all of their deaths."

He finished assembling his P90 and pulled the release catch on its bolt, causing the action to click forward and dry fire.

"…And the sonnovabitch paid for it."

He set it aside, and Lugo offered him a hand.

"Look, I get it. But you need to practice what you were preaching sarge. And I miss the Snarky Crosby, and the Joking Crosby. Even the Dry, Sarcastic Crosby who occasionally lets nuggets of wisdom drop when he's snarking jokingly."

Crosby accepted it the helping hand, and pulled himself up.

"And Saito misses him too."

Their conversation was interrupted by a high-pitched voice yelling, and they both saw the pinkette yelling at the Tokyo teen. Lugo chuckled and continued.

"Well, I can't speak for the walking IED, but I'm pretty sure she misses him too. And Little Blue and Big Red."

That cause Crosby to snicker again.

"Alright, sergeant, point taken. I promise to lighten up."

He nodded over to the contingent of assembled Royal Sharpshooters.

"Check our backup's equipment one more time, and I'll check in with Gordon to find out what our marching orders are."

Lugo smiled.

"Roger that, sarge."

Crosby watched the Delta sniper walk off, then he looked down at the rest of his gear. His gaze fell on his M32 MGL, and a light went off in his head.

* * *

><p>Tiffania stepped through the portal and felt her stomach churn as she was magically transported to her destination. The Void Portals, like the Spellsongs, were relics of a bygone age when her kinfolk were more plentiful and their goddess Sasha walked in corporeal form. She had traveled to her village to speak to her brother, but had learned that he had traveled to the Palm Oasis, which was the largest settlement of elves in the desert. It was also the seat of the Elven Council, her kin's governing body, which was led by the Memory Keeper. Her thoughts were interrupted as she arrived in a blinding flash of light. Tiffania blinked and took in her surroundings. She was standing in an open air market surrounded by people bustling about on their business.<p>

Unlike her village, the Palm Oasis was huge, almost as big as the human cities like Tristainia or Londinium. It was home to thousands of her kinfolk, and Tiffania marveled at seeing so many elves out in the open. Instead of crude huts there were houses, several stories tall and fashioned out of dried mud clay. Out in the distance she could see the wide blue water of the oasis, and she took a moment to stand in awe, staring out at the sprawling city.

"Tiffania, is that you?"

Quickly she spun around, and saw younger elf girl wearing a blue traveling cloak edged in wool.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know you?"

The girl smiled.

"It's alright, your brother has told me all about you. I'm sorry to have startled you, my name is Luctiana!"

Tiffania returned the smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Luctiana."

She glanced around at the crowd.

"Um, if you've met my brother, do you know where he is?"

She gestured nervously at the city and the throng of elves going about their business.

"I'm new here, and I'm trying to find him."

Luctiana nodded and pointed to oasis. In the distance Tiffania could see a large house by the edge.

"He is there, in the House of the Keeper, speaking with the Council over some urgent matter."

She beamed brightly at Tiffania.

"I can take you there if you like!"

* * *

><p>"You will train me to wield the Staff of Destruction?!"<p>

Kirche's eyes dazzled as she clasped her hands together in joy. Crosby nodded.

"Yep. We're going to need all the help we can get, so it stands to reason that you learn how to fire this thing properly."

Quickly the redheaded fire mage stood up from her seat next to Tabitha and followed Crosby back to where his gear was. As Crosby opened the metal chest where his grenade launcher was stashed, Kirche had caught up to him and smiled.

"You know, Sir Crosby, the people of Germania are know for their proficiency of all sorts of weapons."

Crosby looked up and saw the redhead was leaning over him, thrusting her ample bosom forward. She gave him a wink.

"As a matter of fact, it is said that the only skill that surpasses our proficiency in weapons is our ability to make love."

Crosby tossed the grenade launcher at her, and she almost fell over.

"Good to know."

He looked over to targets on the improvished range. He had been able to find some mannequins and outfitted them with rusted Reconquista armor leftover from the last battle set against the far wall of the courtyard. Nodding in satisfaction, he glanced back at Kirche.

"Now the first thing you need to know about this weapon is that it has a significant recoil, so you need to brace when you-"

The rest of his instruction was interrupted by a loud thump as Kirche fired the grenade launcher. Predictably, the recoil sent her flying back, knocking her and Crosby to the ground. The older soldier let out a sigh, but the redhead was undeterred. She looked up at Crosby eagerly.

"Did I hit?"

Crosby craned his neck and saw a smoldering hole in the courtyard wall, then shook his head.

"That's a negative. You need to follow instructions and-"

But the rest of his words were cut off as the world went black and the overpowering scent of lavender assaulted his nostrils. He struggled in Kirche's grip as he heard her apologizing and promising to do better. With effort he pulled himself out of Kirche's cleavage and pulled himself up.

"Like I said, you need to follow instructions. That grenade launcher isn't a toy. Now, we're going to practice on the proper stance."

Kirche nodded once, and Crosby continued.

"First you need to brace the butt of the weapon against your shoulder."

The redhead raised the grenade launcher.

"Tighter, you need to brace it otherwise your shot will go wild."

He saw her tighter her stance and nodded.

"Okay, you're looking good, now next to sight in your weapon you're going to-"

But the rest of his spiel was lost as Kirche pulled the trigger and the recoil sent her flying back into him, knocking them both to the ground.

* * *

><p>Tiffania slowly ascended the stone steps that led up to the House of the Keeper. She glanced back at Luctiana, who gave an encouraging smile.<p>

"Y-you sure you can't come with me?"

The younger girl shook her head.

"I'm sorry Tiff, I don't have business to take to the Council."

Luctiana turned to leave and gave a friendly wave.

"But don't worry, and tell your brother I said hi!"

Tiffania watched her new friend leave, and then ascended the last steps. In front of her was a large door, made of some heavy wood and bound in iron. She gave it a gently push, and to her surprise it opened a crack. She pushed the door again with her finger and noticed that the door appeared to weight nothing as it swung inward. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Once inside Tiffania let out a sharp gasp. The Council's audience chamber was dark, there were no windows, and only a section of the room was lit by a large skylight overhead, casting a bright strip of light on the far side of the room. A cacophany of voices assaulted her delicate ears, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. On the far wall she saw a mirror that probably doubled as a Void Portal, where members of the Council could come and go. On the of the other side of the room lit by the skylight was the Council; seated on cushions of woven reeds as they continued their heated debate loudly. As Tiffania approached she could see her brother was one of the ones debating the Council, and she could only catch snippets of it, but she somehow knew what they were debating.

"...if the Outworlders have mastered the secrets of the Steel Dragon, how do we know they won't use it against us?"

"...my spies said the thing could raze a village to the ground..."

"...if it falls into the hands of the Reconquista-"

"Enough."

All the voices stopped, and Tiffania's breath caught in her throat. The Memory Keeper, who had a seat against the far wall, had been silent through the proceedings. One word was enough to silence the noisy debate, as she rose from her seat and approached the Council members, her long sky-blue dress trailing behind her. Tiffania often considered herself plain, in spite of the kind words from her beloved, she knew several of the nobles at the school whom she considered to be beautiful. But as she continued to stare Tiffania was convinced that all the beauty of the mortal humans paled in comparison to the Keeper. If her brother was to be believed she was one of the first elves instructed by the goddess Sasha, which would have made her several thousand years old, but the Memory Keeper showed no signs of age. In fact, between her vivid orange hair and light grey eyes, the Keeper of Memories seemed to be scarcely older than a maiden. Tiffania gave a start as the Keeper turned her gaze towards her, and spoke in a warm contralto voice.

"While you sit here and jabber amongst yourself, you have not yet heard the one voice that matters."

The Memory Keeper looked over to Tiffania.

"Come, Child of the Desert. Your kinsman has been waiting for you."

As Tiffania shyly approached the Council, her brother stood up.

"Tiff! What news do you bring? Is it true? Have the Outworlders acquired yet more of their destructive magic?"

She glanced over to the Council members who glared at her, then looked nervously to the Keeper, who gave Tiffania a reassuring smile.

"Do not be afraid, my Child. Speak freely."

Tiffania nodded, a spoke.

"The Outworlders had been approached by the Romalian priests, and they have indeed more weapons at their disposal."

Her brother raised an eyebrow.

"What sort of weapons?"

The young elf girl continued.

"One is an airship, like the ones that brought the Outworlders to our oasis, but it has more destructive power than both the airships put together."

She closed her eyes.

"The other two weapons I have experienced firsthand, as my beloved had piloted it."

She smiled at the recollection of Lt. Gordon letting her ride with him back to Tristainia.

"It is an iron beast that crawls on the ground like a centipede, with a long snout that shoots fire projectiles that can break the mightiest fortifications."

The Council members sat in stunned silence, until one of them spoke up.

"Then our worst fears have been realized! If the Outworlders attack, we will be defenseless!"

Another chimed in.

"Even our most powerful Spellsongs wouldn't stop it!"

Tiffania blushed and frantically shook her head.

"No! The Outworlders are our friends, they would never-"

"They are aligned with the hated mages of Tristain!" The same Council member spat. "If their allies convince them to attack us what assurance do we have that they won't?"

"Perhaps I can be of assistance."

A new voice spoke up, one with a thick accent that was not elven. Tiffania turned and saw a figure approach. As he stepped out of the darkness and into the light she saw that he was an old man with a weather-beaten face and short white hair. And judging by his ears he was also very clearly human.

* * *

><p>Agnès picked up one Alex's magazines for his sniper rifle. He was in the process of checking and cleaning his M99, and several magazines were strewn about the table inside the Sharpshooter's barracks where they were waiting for marching orders. Gingerly the female knight pulled a massive bullet out of a pouch on the tabletop and held it up. Like the rest it was huge, larger than any of her fingers, but this one had different markings on it. The tip of the bullet was painted green and had a light grey ring around it. She held it up to Alex.<p>

Why is this one different?"

Alex paused in cleaning the action of his rifle and took the bullet in his gloved hand.

"Well, this bad boy is the Mark 211."

He saw the puzzled look on Agnès' face and chuckled.

"It's a high-powered armor-piercing round, this bad boy could punch through even the T-55's tank armor."

He slipped it back into the magazine.

"We never had much use for it in Dubai, but I brought it out of mothballs because we're facing real armor this time around."

He looked up and saw the female knight was smiled at him with shimmering eyes.

"What's up?"

Agnès giggled lightly.

"You're so adorable when you talk about your weaponry, even though I have no idea what you're saying."

She leaned in to kiss Alex, but then they were interrupted by the sound of an explosion.

"What was that?"

Alex shrugged.

"Sounds like a grenade."

Then there was another explosion, followed by another. Alex stood up from the table and grabbed his M9.

"C'mon, let's go investigate."

* * *

><p>"Did I hit?! Did I hit?"<p>

Crosby's head was still ringing from the last shot, it was a miracle he could even hear Kirche's excited voice. He pulled himself up and glanced over at the range. The fountain, the hedges, and even a stone bench in the courtyard had been blown to smithereens, but the targets were all still intact. Crosby snorted.

"Yes, Kirche, you hit. You hit the wall, you hit the rosebushes, you hit the bench…you even hit the fucking water fountain. What you failed to hit was the damned targets!"

But Kirche didn't hear his last bit, the redhead was so overjoyed at hitting something.

"Yahoo! I told you I could wield the Staff of Destruction's power!"

She then reached over and before Crosby could react pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing his face into her cleavage. As he struggled to get out, he heard a voice that sounded like Alex.

"Enjoying a bit of R&R, are we sarge?"

Crosby's response was muffled, but the fact that he extended his middle finger at the younger soldier indicated his mood. Alex chuckled.

"Keep that up and Sar'gent Forbes will get all jelly on ya."

The younger soldier turned and saw Agnès approach, brandishing her revolver.

"Where did that explosion come from?"

She looked around, aghast at the wanton destruction.

"What in Brimir's name happened here? I demand to know-oh?"

Agnès happened to glance down and saw Crosby's situation, stopping her rant. She averted her gaze and blushed. Alex on the other hand continued.

"So sarge, what happened that made you fall into Big Red's booby trap?"

He continued to chuckle at his own wit, until Agnès swatted him on the back of the head.

"Stop being vulgar, you dirty boy!"

The female knight then looked down, only to blush again. Steeling up her resolve, Agnès cleared her throat.

"Miss Kirche Von Zerbst, kindly remove Sir Crosby from your…embrace."

The redhead sighed theatrically, but relented and let go of Crosby, who was flushed and gasping for breath. Alex offered a hand.

"So, teaching the locals the secret of fire, eh?"

Crosby said nothing but irritably pulled himself up. He grabbed the grenade launcher and snorted.

"Not any more, I'm not. We're done here, or more to the point, I'm done here."

Kirche dusted herself off and looked shocked.

" But why? I was just getting the hang of wielding the Staff of Destruction."

Crosby glared at the redheaded mage.

"Apparently not because you've fired over a dozen grenades and you still missed the target, you couldn't even hit the broad side of a barn with that thing. I'm done with training, and I'm done with your scatterbrained short attention span and I'm damned sure done with your your booby traps!"

For a moment Crosby wondered if he went too far, as Kirche seemed stricken by his outburst. Her hazel eyes shimmered for a moment, but then they hardened into a glint. Kirche straightened herself up, puffing out her impressive bust.

"You want fire, my handsome old war horse? I will show you what Kirche the Ardent Fire Mage can do!"

She snatched the grenade launcher out of his hands and spun around. Bracing the weapon against her shoulder she murmured some incantation words, then crisply fired off six shots. Crosby stared dumbfoundedly as each target exploded in sequence. The last target blew up spectacularly, and sent a charred helm rolling up to Crosby's booted foot. He heard Alex let out a low whistle.

"Okay, maybe there is hope for you, yet."

He gestured to the grenade launcher.

"Now let me show you proper maintenance of that gun. First we're going to have to field strip it."

He heard the private chuckling salaciously.

"Huh-huh-huh, you said 'strip'…"

But Alex's mirth ceased when he was cuffed again by Agnès.

"Dirty boy!"

* * *

><p>Tiffania stared at the human, but Memory Keeper just smiled and addressed the newcomer.<p>

"It is odd, I seem to recall you saying that you weren't interested in the affairs of elves or men, my beloved."

The old man returned the Keeper's smile, and he turned to Tiffania, and spoke with the same oddly accented voice.

"Normally I don't but I couldn't help but hear her describing the weapon, and it triggered an old memory. Tell me, _devochka_, these Outworlders who took your Dragon, do they dress like me?"

Tiffania's eyes widened as she took in the human appearance and clothes. He was a faded pair of breeches and tunic that were frayed at the cuffs, and there were rectangular decorations on his shoulders. But it was his footwear that attracted her attention. They were black and heavy, like Mr. Crosby's. She forced herself to look into the human's pale blue eyes and responded.

"No! I mean, not quite, some like Mr. Crosby wear all black, others like my beloved Gordon have clothes that are mottled green, like their leader Konrad."

That caused the old man's eyes to light up, and he grabbed the young elf's hands in his own, causing Tiffania to squeak.

"Their leader is called Konrad, are you sure?"

Tiffania nodded dumbly, and the old man let go of her. To her surprise he started chuckling to himself. The Keeper approached him and place a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it, my beloved?"

The old man finished laughing and shook his head.

"I would call it a coincidence, my love, but nothing happens by chance in this world, the Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda _would see to that."

He turned back to Tiffania.

"I would have you take me to these Outworlders, _devochka_. I would like to see this Konrad for myself."

_(AN: So, you probably already know who this old man is, but next chapter will confirm it. Hopefully there was enough balance between the two. Also I figured a last bit of comic relief was in order. And Kirche gets to glomp Crosby. Again! Seriously I was trying to find someone who was a good fit for the MGL in the upcoming battle, and Kirche being a Fire Mage fit the bill. Until next time!)_


	130. Old Friends and New Faces, Part Deux

_(AN: So work has got me busy again, blah-blah-blah…anyways, here's another chapter! Many thanks to biohazard115 for helping beta this and turn a jumbled glut of words into something resembling a chapter. Enjoy!)_

Vasya's eyes were temporarily blinded after stepping through the Void portal. As he blinked several times to get the purple spots and after-images out of his vision something collided with him and he almost fell. Tiffania let out a terrified 'meep!' as the Soviet soldier grabbed her shoulders to prevent her from falling.

"Are you alright, _devotchka_?"

The elf girl nodded once.

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry, I'm not used to using the portals, so I get a bit clumsy."

Vasya smiled.

"That makes two of us."

He glanced about and took in the grand hall of the palace with its gilded panels and polished marble floors. For the first time in a long time Captain Bylinkin felt self-conscious as he glanced down at his own uniform. His Soviet tanker uniform,once a pristine black, had now faded to a dull grey. He also became uncomfortably aware of several old oil stains and improvised stitched repairs, as well as the frayed flaps on his pockets. Finally he glanced down at his scuffed hobnail boots and sighed.

"If I knew I was coming to a palace I would have at least shined my boots."

At least the gold threading on his officer shoulder boards were still in decent shape. He glanced about and saw a person standing guard. The man's outfit more appropriate for an Alexander Dumas novel, except he was armed with what looked like a breach-loading rifle with a bayonet attached. He looked back to Tiffania.

"Well, let us ask for directions, shall we?"

As he approached the guard Vasya was somewhat surprised that the guard did not seem the least bit perturbed at the sight of an elf and a human who was clearly not from his world. When the Soviet captain stood in front of the guard he gave a rather sloppy excuse for a Western salute, which Vasya returned more crisply.

"Are you with the Outworlder delegation, sir?"

Vasya smiled.

"Yes, would you kindly take me to an officer called Konrad?"

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, at the 33rd barracks)<strong>

"Based off reconnaissance we have 48 hours or less before the Reconquista fleet makes landfall.

Konrad pointed to the map, which showed the Tristainian coastline.

"...intel seems to point to the Reconquista invasion fleet landing here."

He looked back at Bowles, McPherson and Gordon.

"The reason is simple, most of the coastline is formed by cliffs, and this narrow strip is the only beach area that has a bay deep enough for large ships to dock."

The colonel traced a line along the coast where the cliffs flanked the beach on either side.

"We'll dig two bunkers on each side of the beach and put the T-55's in them, effectively making them artillery positions."

He pointed to a narrow strip just beyond the beach.

"Our redoubt will be here, in case the invasion fleet makes landfall."

He looked over to Lt. Gordon.

"I want sandbag set up with Gatling gun emplacements, making the beach one giant killzone."

Konrad pointed further inland.

"Lastly I want Crosby and any available infantry to create secondary redoubt, as a place to fall back to in case the Reconquista secures the beachhead."

Bowles spoke up.

"What about Big Ugly, sir?"

Konrad smiled.

"I want our newly acquired helicopter gunship to strafe any troop ships that try to make landfall, as well as airspace control in case they bring any dragons."

The lieutenant nodded.

"Roger that, sir."

Konrad glanced about at the other two officers.

"Any questions or input, gentlemen?"

A new voice, with a thick accent, spoke up.

"Yes, using tanks as artillery in this battle is fucking stupid."

All eyes turned to the voice's owner. He was a short, wiry man wearing faded grey coveralls with golden shoulder boards. His face was deeply tanned and weather-beaten, and his pale blue eyes regarded the younger officer's surprise with amusement. Vasya took another step forward.

"If you want to use the venerable T-55's to their full potential, you will need someone who is an expert in tank warfare."

* * *

><p>"Can I ask you something?"<p>

Saito looked up from cleaning his AKMS to see Louise looking across the table from him.

"Sure, what is it?"

The pinkette paused for a moment.

"If we win this war, what will you do?"

Saito finished lubing the bolt cover and slid it into place with a click.

"Well, I'm not sure, why?"

To his surprise, Louise blushed and seemed at a loss for words. She began toying with her fingers, and looked down.

"I-I mean about us…after this war."

She looked over the courtyard.

"Since I've proven myself as a Void Mage when the fighting is over Mother will probably give me a portion of the Vallière duchy."

Louise paused and closed her eyes and blushed. She spoke again in a low voice.

"Would you do the same and leave the 33rd after this war?"

Oblivious to the subtext, Saito shrugged.

"I'm sure even after the fighting is over Colonel Konrad will have other tasks for the Damned 33rd to do. We'll have to placate Albion, and make sure there's no more remnants of the Reconquista."

He continued talking, not noticing the pinkette was fuming.

"Idiot! I'm not talking your career as a soldier!"

She lowered her head again, her eyes began to shimmer.

"I-I'm talking about us, what will we do?"

Saito's own eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. He didn't even hear a sequence of explosions behind him as he stared into Louise's eyes. Finally he spoke up.

"Oh! That, well of course I want to be with you no matter where you go!"

That caused Louise to smile and her tiny hand took his. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

"Saito.."

The moment was killed by a loud feminine chortle.

"Ah! There you are Saito! You will be happy to know that Sir Crosby has trained me in the art of wielding the Staff of Destruction!"

Saito turned around and saw the redheaded fire mage standing behind him, which unfortunately put him right at eye level with her impressive bust. The Tokyo teen snapped out of his ogling trance when he heard Louise hiss in fury at him.

"Sssssaitoooo! You perverted ungrateful dog!"

The pinkette raised her riding crop to beat Saito, only to have it snatched out of her hand. She looked up and glared at the Zulu Squad sergeant standing over her.

"Give that back!"

Crosby held the riding crop out of Louise's reach. As he watched her jump up and down trying to reach it, the older soldier wondered just how many riding crops the pinkette had. He knew from experience that he had to have confiscated at least a dozen of them. He looked over to Saito.

"How the weapon looking, Saito?"

The teen held up the machine gun, full assembled and gleaming with oil.

"Cleaned and battle-ready, Crosby-san!"

Crosby smiled and looked down at Louise, who by now had gotten tired and was puffing like a bellows. He tossed the riding crop over his shoulder and sat the pinkette down.

"You know my lady, I know we've had this conversation before. You need to control you temper."

He glanced up at Kirche.

"And you need to quit flirting with Saito. He's already spoken for."

The fire mage huffed.

"Hmph! Such a waste to be tied down to one girl. Especially one who is so flat-chested."

The Zulu Squad sergeant glanced down and saw Louise's eye start to twitch, and decided to head off the next outburst.

"Kirche, break's over. Go back and field strip your weapon."

The redhead looked puzzled, oblivious to the context.

"But I already cleaned it..."

Crosby glared at her.

"Then take it apart and clean it again!"

Kirche huffed again, feeling robbed of her fun and picked up the MGL. Louise watched her walk off and then looked up to Crosby.

"Will you teach me how to fire a weapon, Sir Crosby?"

To her surprise, the older soldier shook his head.

"That's a negative. You're not participating in this battle."

"What?! You mean to keep me away from the front lines?"

Crosby shrugged.

"Yes. I promised your mother I'd keep you safe."

The pinkette drew herself up and pointed dramatically to Crosby.

"Oh no you don't! I won't allow you to send a letter to Mother the way you did the last time! I'll stop you no matter what!"

She brandished her wand menacingly, but then a voice spoke up behind her, causing her to drop it.

"What are you going on about, Chibi-Louise?"

The pinkette turned around only to see her older sister Éléonore standing behind her, having appeared out of nowhere. The taller blonde bespectacled girl lashed out and pinched Lousie's cheek in admonishment.

"Stop threatening your bodyguard! Mother will punish you if she finds out!"

Even in the considerable amount of pain that she was in, Louise still heard the older soldier's smug words.

"As it turns out, you don't have to prevent me from doing anything. I took the liberty of sending word before we left the school."

* * *

><p>As he approached Konrad, Vasya was surprised just how similar he looked to the picture in his dreams with the Lady <em>Utrennyaya Zvezda<em>. To the Soviet captain's amazement, his old friend smiled.

"Well, Vasiliy, you look a bit worse for the wear."

Vasya returned Konrad's smile as he looked his Yankee friend up and down.

"I was about to say the same thing, Comrade Ivan Konradovich."

As Vasya took in Konrad's uniform he noticed the eagle insignia's.

"Ah, so you have moved up in the world...colonel, isn't it?"

Konrad nodded.

"And, judging by your shoulder boards, you're a _Starley_ no more."

He looked up and saw his subordinates were still staring at Vasya as if he were an apparition.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin."

Konrad glanced over to McPherson.

"Lieutenant would you round up the rest of the men? I think it's only fair that they get introduced as well."

* * *

><p>"Will you stop making such a scene, Chibi-Louise! You're embarrassing yourself and the family name!"<p>

Éléonore sighed, the youngest of the Vallière children was still whining about not being able to accompany the Outworlders to the frontline. And apparently she didn't like her cheek being pinched. She looked up to Louise's bodyguard, who appeared to be amused by the proceedings.

"Mother wanted me to thank you again for notifying her of this upcoming battle. She is very grateful that you are still looking after the welfare of her younger daughter."

The older Vallière sister allowed a small smile.

"She-I mean Mother, also said that our home is always open to you..."

Realizing the subtext, she blushed and hastily added.

"...I mean, you and your compatriots are always welcome!"

Louise's plaintive cries were suddenly a welcome distraction, and Éléonore pinched Louise's cheek harder.

"I said stop that whining!"

Before either Crosby or Louise could respond, a door leading into the palace opened up, and several Royal Guards entered the courtyard, followed by Lt. McPherson. Crosby and Saito stiffened up, saluting the officer. The lieutenant returned the salute.

"Sergeant Crosby, I need you to round up the rest of the men and accompany me back to the barracks. There's been a new development."

It was then that he noticed Louise's older sister, and he gave a polite nod.

"Er, pardon the intrusion, ma'am. You're Louise's sister?"

McPherson paused, trying to recall her name.

"It was...Éléonore, right? You were at the family estate, I think."

But Éléonore didn't hear a word. As soon as Lt. McPherson entered, she let go of her sister's cheek and clasped her hands together. In her own world, all she saw was the young officer, surrounded by a sparkling cloud of pink. As soon as the impossibly handsome soldier spoke, coral cherry blossoms, carried by a light breeze, blew past his face. She didn't even hear what he said. Then the face, with those beautiful brown eyes leaned in, and spoke.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?"

Éléonore gave a start, and realized she was ogling. Mortified, she looked around. Lt. McPherson appeared not to have caught on, he had a puzzled look on his face. But her sister's bodyguard had a knowing smirk on his face. Immediately she blushed and bowed.

"N-nothing's wrong! I-I have to go, excuse me, Sir!"

And with that she grabbed Louise's hand and let the protesting pinkette back into the palace at a high rate of speed, leaving the officer being perplexed about the mood swings of the local females. He turned back to Crosby.

"I wonder what the hell that was all about, Crosby."

He noticed the smirk on the Zulu Squad sergeant's face.

"Care to explain that, sergeant?"

Crosby continued to smile.

"About what, sir?"

McPherson let out a snort.

"Sergeant, you have a shit-eating grin on your face, I have a hard time believing it's because you remembered one of Bowles' funny jokes."

Crosby glanced back at the palace.

"It would appear as if you have a not-so-secret admirer, sir."

McPherson looked back.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, sergeant?"

The older soldier chuckled.

"C'mon, lieutenant. Before you showed up Four-Eyes was contentedly bullying Louise, then you enter the picture and all of a sudden she had this dazed look on her face and doing the eye shimmer thingie. That means she's smitten, sir."

When the officer didn't respond, Crosby pressed further.

"Specifically she's smitten for you, sir."

The lieutenant shook his head.

"That's ridiculous, sergeant. You've been around these locals too long."

"With all due respect sir, I've seen enough of these local girls to know that if their eyes start shimmering like that it means they're carrying a torch for someone."

He grinned again.

"And, I seem to recall an officer telling me that if a pretty gal is holding a torch for a fellow then he should jump right in while the water's warm."

McPherson chuckled, shaking his head.

"And this officer is telling the sergeant that he's full of shit and this is completely different."

He nodded over to the other soldiers in the courtyard.

"In any case, I need you to round up the rest of the soldiers. The official debriefing is in five mikes."

Crosby saluted.

"Roger that, sir. But this doesn't mean the conversation is over, with all due respect."

McPherson chuckled in spite of himself.

"On the contrary, the officer is telling his mouthy NCO to stow it."

_(AN: So hopefully the next chapter won't take so long, I hope to get at least two more chapters up before I take my annual R&R trip to Key West week after next...my goal is to get one more chapter up this weekend and then another next week...we'll see how it goes. Until then!)_


	131. The Grand Alliance

_(AN: And this took longer than expected, but at least I got it out. Part of this chapter was going to be in the previous one, but it didn't flow right. There should only be one, two chapters tops before we finally get into the battle sequences. The battle chapters, like the other ones, will take a bit longer since I'm using a beta to make sure it clicks, so I appreciate your patience. So, without further ado, here's the next chapter:)_

As Vasiliy and Konrad poured over the maps of the areas surrounding Brugues, the two officers stared dumbfounded at the new arrival. The colonel paused in making calculations on a map and looked up. He saw the Soviet captain grinning at him.

"What's the matter, Captain?"

Vasya smiled.

"I'm just surprised you still recognized me, Comrade Konradovich."

Vasya gestured to his face.

"The last time we met, we were both much younger men."

To the Soviet soldier's surprise, Konrad shook his head.

"On the contrary, Vasiliy. The last time we met, it was in Afghanistan again, and you looked the same as you now."

It was Vasya's turn to be surprise.

"Again, but how?"

Konrad smiled.

"Not how, when."

When the Soviet officer still was in disbelief Konrad continued.

"I met with you, more than twenty years later. It was shortly after we unseated the Taliban from power in early 2002…"

* * *

><p><strong>January 12<strong>**th**** 2002, an unknown location in the Kandahar province.**

Major John Konrad, commander of Charlie Company in the 10th Mountain Division, peered through the night sky from his vantage point in the copilot's seat. In the darkness he could make out the two dark shapes that were escorting his Black Hawk to the location of his contact. He flipped down his NVG's and immediately the two Apache gunships' anti-collision strobe winked at him in the wash of green. He glanced back down at a laminated map on his knee.

Satisfied, he keyed his mic and spoke into his radio.

"Benson, what's our ETA?"

The pilot chuckled.

_"__About five mikes, sir. Assuming the intel is correct."_

The major shrugged.

"It's correct, don't you worry about that."

The pilot spoke up again.

_Sir, I would like to go on record and say that this is a bad idea."_

Major Konrad chuckled.

"And why is that, Benson?"

The warrant officer spoke up.

_"Sir, this place is like the Wild Wild West, and your contact isn't exactly on sympatico terms with NATO. What makes you think this isn't a trap or an ambush?"_

The major didn't respond, but thought back to an eternity ago when he was just a young wet-behind-the-ears butter bar lieutenant, and the unlikely friendship he struck up with a soldier from the other side of the Iron Curtain. He smiled as he spoke.

"A promise to an old friend, Benson, just a promise."

Five minutes later they arrived at the coordinates that Konrad had acquired, and the Black Hawk circled the area twice before the warrant officer heard a voice come through the static on the radio. It was heavily accented, but Benson transcribed what was said, then spoke into his radio.

_"__Sir, apparently they're having us touch down by that large cave entrance. I still gotta say this is a bad idea."_

Konrad smiled.

"Duly noted, Benson. Take us down."

As soon as the chopper touched down Konrad opened the door and ducked low to avoid the propeller wash. As soon as he got clear he noticed that he was not alone. A lone figure, wearing dusty scarf around his face and goggles was standing there. The man brandishing an Eastern Bloc assault rifle and motioned the major to follow him. Back in the cockpit Benson reached up and pulled the EPC lever back from 'Fly' to the "Idle' position and locked it into place. He watched as the two figures disappeared into the darkness of the cave, then spoke to one of the Apaches circling overhead.

_"You guys do know that t__his is a ripe place for an ambush, and you do realize I'm the bait, right?"_

He heard one of the pilots chuckle on the line, but said nothing.

Inside the cave, Konrad's eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see long tables of men cutting into poppy bulbs and extracting the sap, that raw material that would be refined into Afghanistan's prime export after wool and tea. There were more armed men, a mix of Slavic and Middle-Eastern men, all wearing a mixture of tattered uniforms and fatigues.

What struck Konrad the most was the way those men were looking at him. As a soldier Konrad had been in enemy territory before, and was always regarded with fear, or worse, hostility. These armed men were staring at the US Army major as if he were some sort of curiosity instead of an enemy. The major's thoughts were interrupted as his escort tapped him on the elbow and pointed to a small door at the end of the cavern. Konrad nodded and walked through the door.

The door opened to a smaller room that smelled of strong tobacco and sweat. On the far wall was a desk overflowing with paperwork, and in the middle of the room was a large oversized recliner chair upholstered in cracked leather. On the wall that was facing the chair was a television set, one of the newer flatscreen TV's that was running a British news network talking all about the recent overthrow of the Taliban in Afghanistan. At first the room seemed deserted, but then a thickly accented voice spoke up.

"So what is a Yankee doing in an opium factory? Maybe trying to play the hero?"

The voice came from the chair, and Konrad tensed up as a figure pulled itself upright. He relaxed a few seconds later as the figure came into the light, and he saw a familiar face. The face itself was lined and weather-beaten, but it was the pale blue eyes that Konrad recognized. He smiled and spoke in Russian.

"Comrade Blylinkin, it's good to see you."

Konrad held out a hand, and for a moment the old man looked down at the proffered hand, only to envelop the American in a tight embrace.

"Ah, Ivan Konradovich, I am happy to see you again."

He released Konrad and smiled, revealing a few golden teeth.

"Although your accent still sounds like you're from Lithuania, my friend."

The Russian glanced down at Konrad's insignia.

"Ah, you have come up in the world, what does it make you, a colonel?"

Konrad chuckled.

"No, just a mere major in charge of Charlie Company. Although scuttlebutt has it that upper management is going to transfer me from the 10th Mountain to the 33rd Infantry, along with a promotion to Light Colonel."

Vasya smiled as he made his way over to a tarnished samovar and pour two glasses of tea.

"I am glad that you have made well for yourself in the army."

He handed one of the glasses to Konrad, and after a brief toast they both drank. After he had finished his tea, Vasya frowned at the bottom of his glass.

"Something tells me you didn't come all the way out here to look up an old friend, Comrade Konradovich."

Konrad swallowed the last of his tea. Here was where the trip could get dicey.

"There is a local warlord, one who was affiliated with the Taliban, and may have intel about a high value target that is on the United State's most wanted list."

Vasya chuckled.

"Ah, you Yankees always like to bury your intentions in alot of clinical words. If this man is someone you wish to hunt down and kill, you need to merely tell me his name, and I will tell you whether or not I can help."

Konrad nodded and gave the name, and the Russian smiled thinly.

"Ah, yes. This man I know well. He was called the Archer back in the old days when we were occupying the land. As I recall he was one of the first cave rats to use those Stinger missiles."

He chuckled humorlessly.

"And now he is using the expertise and training given to him by your intelligence services to fight your soldiers. The irony is thick here, Comrade."

The major gritted his teeth.

"With respect, Vasya, I just need to know what rock he is hiding under."

Vasya looked directly at Konrad.

"Just answer me this, Comrade. Do you intend to take him alive, or kill him?"

Konrad thought long and hard, but finally decided to answer with the truth.

"Our orders are to exterminate him, with extreme prejudice. He's already responsible for harboring our number one most wanted, and we suspect he's behind that uprising at the Qala-i-Jangi prison."

The Russian continued to stare at Konrad, before finally shrugging. He walked over to the desk and started writing down information on a slip of paper, before handing it over.

"You'll forgive me if it's in Russian, Comrade. My English was never very good."

Konrad took the paper and glanced over the information.

"Thank you. This will help us immensely."

Vasya shook his head.

"Is nothing, Comrade. The man in question is a stinking pig, and has been skimming profits from my opium operation for months."

He paused and a shadow crossed over his face.

"And recently I have found that he was guilty of more than just that...Your soldiers will spare me the trouble of digging him out of his hole and expending a bullet on him."

Konrad pocketed the paper, and decided to switch subjects.

"You know, you could leave all this behind. I have clout in the Defense Department, I could get you asylum in the States."

He grinned.

"My family still has that ranch in Montana, we could always use an extra pair of hands."

A wistful expression crossed the old Russian's scarred face.

"Ah yes, I remember you telling me about it. I would like to have seen Montana, and to see America."

He went over and picked up his glass, filling it with a clear liquid from a dirty bottle. From the smell of it Konrad guessed it was alcohol.

"But it is not to be. I am no longer a soldier, Comrade Major. I am a criminal. I doubt even you have enough clout to get asylum for a war criminal like me."

He gestured to the opium production.

"Even as a gangster I managed to piss off the wrong people, which is why they have exiled me to this pisshole. No, Ivan Konradovich, I stay here, and I will die here. Such is the way of things."

Konrad didn't know what else to say to that, so he just offered his hand.

"Well, then I guess this is goodbye, then. Thank you for the information."

A smile creased Vasya's lined face and he accepted Konrad's handshake.

"Farewell, Comrade Ivan Konradovich. May you die a hero before you can become a villain."

* * *

><p>Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin stood in surprise as Konrad recounted his tale. Finally he shook his head.<p>

"No...that's impossible. I never was there, I mean I died in that pass in 1980. How could you have met me in 2002?"

Konrad shrugged.

"It was before Dubai, Vasya. Maybe that was another timeline, one where you survived like in your dreams."

That caused the Soviet tanker to chuckle.

"Yes, that sounds just like the Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_."

Lt. Gordon spoke up.

"Excuse me, sir, but who is this lady you keep talking about?"

The older soldier shrugged.

"It's the one who sent you here. She is beautiful with long green hair."

Bowles chuckled.

"Oh, you mean Crosby's squeeze, the Weaver of Fate."

Vasya cocked his head to one side.

"I am sorry, what do you mean by a 'squeeze'?"

Konrad stepped forward.

"What my subordinate is trying to say is that this lady, the Weaver of Fate or Lady Morning Star as you know her, apparently has a thing for one of my men, one Sgt. Crosby."

Vasya chuckled.

"Ah, that explains it. Petya will be disappointed when he hears that."

He looked up and saw the puzzled expressions on the American soldiers.

"Nevermind, is long story. Petya is or rather was a junior officer under my command, he knows the inner workings of these T-55's better than any Soviet soldier I know."

He looked over to Konrad.

"I sent word to his village, hopefully he receives it in time."

The door opened, and several more soldiers filed in, and McPherson saluted Konrad.

"Sir, all the men are present and accounted for, ready for your debriefing."

The colonel nodded, and continued with the debriefing.

"Gentlemen, as you may have found out, the Reconquista's invasion fleet has been sighted off the Gallian coast, and they will make landfall in Tristain within 48 hours or less. The good news/bad news is that Brugues is only half a days ride away, or about 2 hours by tank."

Konrad looked over to Gordon, Forbes and Walker.

"All members of the Tristainian Army are to set out for Brugues, that means you as well. I need you to coordinate the digging of the redoubts in anticipation for the invasion."

He looked over to Bowles.

"You will set out with the tanks tomorrow evening, and rendezvous with the rest of the army outside of Brugues."

Konrad nodded at Agnès.

"Knight-Commander, I will need you to take the rest of the Tristianian Army to the fortress city of Dunkerque, take the remaining cannons and Gatling guns with you."

The female knight bowed.

"As you command, Lord General Konrad. But shouldn't we join in on the battle for Brugues?"

The colonel shook his head.

"Negative. If the Reconquista attempts a land invasion they will have to seize Dunkerque first, since it is at the Crossroads of Gallia and Tristain it is strategically important."

He looked down at a dispatch scroll.

"According to the latest report from Professor Colbert the AC-130 Gunship will be fully operational within three days. If the Reconquista attempts a land invasion we will use its weapons against the invading army and decimate it."

Konrad glanced over to McPherson.

"Make no mistake about it, gentlemen, I don't want the Reconquista establishing a foothold in Tristainia by water either. That is why I'm dedicating all of land and air firepower to repel them. I want a decisive victory that will see the Reconquista and their Gallian allies demoralized, so that hopefully they won't try anything like this again."

Bowles spoke up.

"When do we depart, sir?"

Konrad checked his watch.

"You will set out for Brugues at dusk tomorrow. In case there are any Reconquista spies on the countryside I don't want us advertising our secret weapons."

Vasiliy cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"If we are not to depart until tomorrow evening, may I make a request?"

Konrad nodded, and the Soviet officer looked over at the female knight.

"I request six of your soldiers, preferably ones who are small in stature."

Agnès glanced over to Konrad, who gave a slight nod, then she looked back at the older soldier.

"It will be done, but why?"

Vasiliy smiled.

"I will use the remaining time we have to train them."

He looked at Konrad.

"You will need all the soldiers you have in the field, yes? So it makes sense to have someone else to drive, load and fire the main gun."

Crosby shook his head.

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're going to train these locals how to operate a 20th century tank?"

The Soviet tank grinned.

"_Molodoy_, I spent three years training Afghan goat-herders how to operate a tank, training real soldiers will be easy as cake."

Konrad smiled.

"The captain's right, Crosby. We need every member of the 33rd in the field on this battle, so we'll need any help we can get."

Vasya glanced back at the Zulu Squad sergeant, and looked over his fatigues and finally stared at him intently. It unnerved Crosby to say the least.

"What gives?"

Vasya grinned.

"Are you the one that stole the heart of Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_, the Weaver of Fate?"

Crosby didn't respond, but the flush on his face answered the Russian's question. Vasya chuckled again.

"It would seem that she has very strange taste in men. Petya will be disappointed."

He started for the door, and motioned Agnès to follow him.

"Come, _devotcha_, show me where you're keeping my tanks."

* * *

><p><strong>(later that evening, at the Gallian emcampment)<strong>

King Jozef of Gallia paused at the opening of a large tent, and glanced over his shoulder. It was almost midnight, and nothing stirred in the Reconquista-allied Gallian camp. His senses strained to hear any footsteps or voices, but was rewarded only with the sounds of snoring and men fidgeting in their sleep. Satisfied, he opened the tent flap and stepped inside.

Inside the tent there were no torches, but the interior was bathed by an unearthly red glow, courtesy of a fire crystal in one corner. As the monarch's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed three other figures in the tent. The two women from Albion he recognized, as they were unmasked, but the third kept his face hidden behind one of the Reconquista's masks. The masked figure took a step forward.

"Is everything in readiness?"

King Jozef nodded.

"All of the pieces are in place, with a bit of luck and a good tailwind, the invasion fleet will make landfall towards Brugues in less than two days' time. Then our trap will be sprung, and Tristain will be overthrown."

Sheffield turned her violet eyes towards Jozef.

"Are you sure this will work? We are dedicating a significant portion of our resources for this hunch of yours."

The Gallian king sneered as he glanced over to Sheffield.

"Don't talk to me about gambling resources, woman! Gallia herself has dedicated years to achieve this battle-readiness, and I don't intend to squander it on a mere 'hunch'."

The masked man then spoke up.

"Do not be so dismissive, Jozef of Gallia. There is much at stake; We have all risked much to bring the plans of the Reconquista to this point, and now our plans stand on the edge of a razor. If even one aspect of the plan does not go through as planned it could risk failure."

Jozef snorted.

"I already have spies in place to ensure that my end of the bargain will be kept. I am confident that we will succeed; not only will we bring Tristain to heel, but it will also herald the end of the Outworlders and their technological superiority in this world."

The fire crystal's light intensified, and there was a low rumbling sound that seemed to come from the depths of the earth.

**"Foolssss...foolssss sssstill bickering in the darknessssss. Don't forget who gave you the meansssss to create your instrumentsssss of war, ambitious little man. Nor should you forget our bargain..."**

The king nodded and turned to bow deferentially at the crystal.

"Of course I have not forgotten our bargain, Lord Alduin. If our plan succeeds, then you will get what you desire, and we will get what we want."

**"I hope sssssso for your sssssssake, Jozef of Gallia. I do not tolerate failure, assssss I'm sure the Liar and the Thief can attessssssst to."**

The masked man turned to leave.

"Then there is nothing left but to wait for your trap to spring. I leave you to your preparations."

As he passed Sheffield, the man removed his mask smiling in the darkness at the leader of the Reconquista.

"Don't forget our side-bet, Sheffield, and I hope you remember who got you here."

Nothing was visible of the man's face, but in the light of the crystal a pair of mismatched eyes glinted at Sheffield. She smiled but said nothing as she turned and followed the man out. Fouquet also started to leave, but was stopped by the voice. It was softer, and not as harsh as before.

**"Wait, Thief."**

She paused.

"What is it, Lord Alduin?"

**"Do not get too close to this Jozef of Gallia, Thief. Hissss ambitionsssss blind him like your Cromwell, remember what hisssss fate wassssss. Partisssssipate in his little war if you musssst, but keep your disssstance from him. Hissss path ends in fire, and will consssssume all around him."**

_(AN: Uh-oh...methinks that King Jozef is going to make the same mistakes as ol' Ollie Cromwell. And with Vasya's help maybe the 33rd can learn a thing or two about tank warfare. Like I said we only have a couple more chapters before we finally get to the glorious tank battle between Tristain and the Reconquista, so stay tuned!)_


	132. Tанководство

_(AN: For those curious the title __танководство is a__ Russian play on words for домоводство, which is Home Economics, which is also the Russian title of the manga _Girls Und Panzer_. Given what will transpire in this chapter I thought it appropriate. _

_So, one more chapter before I take my annual vacation to the Florida Keys. A heads-up I probably won't be updating until the 2nd week of June, so if you don't see the usual updates that's why. Enjoy!)_

It was still dark as a Royal Sharpshooter through the halls of the palace, there was only the faintest hint of pink light poking through the leaded glass windows of the palace. Finally the guard stopped at a door to the Spring Ballroom, currently being used as a temporary dormitory for the student-mages who were recruited from the Academy. He pushed the door open and struck the floor with the butt of his halberd. The noise woke several of the students closer to the entrance.

"Attention, student-recruits! His Lordship John Konrad, acting in conjunction with her Royal Highness Princess Henrietta, has decreed that the following persons will be selected for special training. As I call your names, you will file out."

He pulled out a scroll.

"Katie Voltaire!"

"Beatrice von Guldenhorf!"

"Lisette von Tropp!"

"Hervé de ville Chaise!"

"Guiche de Gramont!"

"Malicorne de Grandpré!"

He lowered the scroll and saw several students trudge towards him. One, a girl whose long hair was mussed from sleep, yawned.

"Can't you choose someone else? I am a Princess of Guldenhorf!"

The guard glared at her.

"Which means absolutely nothing to the Outworlders, girl."

He glanced at the others.

"You have ten minutes to clean up and get dressed, afterwards you will report to the Spring Courtyard for your training!"

The chubby student called Malicorne signed.

"They're not even giving us time for breakfast! This is sooo unfair."

He looked over to his two friends, and saw that the blonde fop was grinning broadly.

"What are you so happy about, Guiche?"

Guiche chuckled.

"You silly fool! You don't know our good luck!"

He gestured with his rose wand to the trio of girls.

"Firstly, we will be working with pretty girls, and second, if we are being training by Lord General Konrad's men, it means will will be learning how to use their weapons of war! Think of how exciting this is!"

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later)<strong>

The sun was just starting to rise as the students waited in the courtyard. Off in the distance Guiche could see the two iron beasts, the newest weapons of the Outworlders, with their long gun barrels pointed at the sky. Then he heard a voice with a thick accent he couldn't place.

"Bah, I ask for soldiers and they give me children."

All six of the students turned and saw an Outworlder standing there, with a large metal box next to his feet. Unlike Sir Crosby and his companions the man was wearing a grey uniform with many pockets, and had a leather belt around his waist with a holster. He was older as well; with a weather beaten face and sharp, jutting cheekbones. A mop of short white hair topped his head, and his piercing pale blue eyes glared at them. The Outworlder folded his arms and looking as if the sight of the children made him sick.

"I am Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin, and today is your lucky day, children."

He saw that Guiche grinning broadly and walked up to him.

"Who are you, _Stilyaga_?"

The fop straightened himself up.

"I am Guiche De Gramont, second year student at the Tristain Academy of Magic! And I am known far and wide for my skills as a Triangle Earth Mage and as a lover!"

The Soviet officer chuckled humorlessly.

"_Blya_! Just what I need, a bloody _pavlin_."

He glared at Guiche.

"You're prettier than most Russian girls, _Stilyaga. _But I don't need pretty boys, I need soldiers who follow orders, can you do that?"

The smile left the fop's face, and he nodded once. Vasya turned to the rest of the students.

"Good. Alright children, by the day's end you will learn not only how to operate a T-55, but you will learn teamwork, and how to function as a single coherent unit. That is if your intelligence holds up and my patience doesn't wear out."

He reached into the box and pulled out several wadded up cloth bundles. He handed the bundle to Guiche. When the boy unfolded the bundle, he found that it was a helmet made of heavy black material. The old soldier spoke up again.

"These are your helmets, they will protect your fragile heads and feeble brains inside the tank, and because it's so loud in there they are also the means by which you can communicate with one another."

He looked over to Beatrice.

"Rapunzel, you will bind up those ridiculous pigtails, I'm not cutting holes in the helmet for your sake."

She let out a sanctimonious huff.

"I spent most of my evening getting them to look this way, why would I mess it up wearing that ugly thing?"

Captain Blylinkin glared at the girl.

"Because if you don't I will give you a haircut with my knife!"

* * *

><p>After leaving the students in the care of the Outworlder, the Royal Guard entered the Sharpshooter barracks. He approached the knight-commander's private chambers. And took a deep breath. Before he could knock, the door opened, and the young Outworlder, Private Walker, answered the door. He was shirtless and yawning.<p>

"Whadyawant?"

The guard was unsettled by the young soldier's appearance, and started to stammer.

"Look, we both could hear ya tromping down the hall, whatdya want? I ain't asking again."

"I-I need to speak with Knight-Commander Agnès de Milan."

The young Outworlder stepped aside, and the guard almost averted his eyes at the sight of the knight-commander. She was naked save for a bedsheet wrapped around her shoulders. She yawned.

"Alright, guard, I am here. What is needed?"

"I-it's time, Knight Commander. All is in readiness, the troops merely await your order."

A grave expression crossed the female knight's face, and she nodded.

"I will be there shortly."

She then shut the door on the guard's face, and turned back to Alex. The boy soldier had already pulled on his olive-green undershirt and was buttoning his mossy green blouse. She continued to watch as Alex tightened the straps on his armor and pouched vest. As the the private tied up his keffiyeh scarf Agnès let out a sigh

"Penny for your thoughts, babe?"

Agnès walked over to the nightstand and poured some water into the basin.

"Oh, I just remember the 1st time we met, you were wearing that scarf."

Alex chuckled.

"Yeah, as I recall you tried to wrestle me to the ground."

The female knight giggled as she splashed some water on her face.

"I didn't try, I succeeded."

She wiped her face clean and padded over to him, running a finger across his youthful features.

"I remember your beautiful eyes."

Alex took her hand in his own gloved hand and kissed it. He tried to let go, but realized that Agnès was gripping his hand tightly. He looked up, and saw her large blue eyes were shimmering. He smiled.

"You're doing the eye shimmer thingie again."

She didn't respond, but closed her eyes.

"What will we do after?"

Alex reached out with his free hand and brushed away a tear.

"What do we do after 'what?'"

Agnès opened her eyes.

"After this war, you silly boy!"

He shrugged.

"Oh, I figured I'd give you some BS excuse for TDY'ing and leave you whilst I go sow my wild oats elsewhere. I hear the Germanian women are real promiscuous."

He got a light cuff on the side of the head for that, although Agnès was still smiling.

"You naughty boy, I'm being serious!"

Alex let go of her hand and walked over to where his M-99 was propped up against the wall. He picked it up, and pulled the breach open to make sure it was loaded. Satisfied, he looked back up to Agnès, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well, I think my sniper rifle needs some more gun oil, the action's getting sticky."

She threw one of her boots at him and stuck out her tongue.

"You naughty boy!"

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later)<strong>

Alex stood in the courtyard and watched as Agnès mounted up on her horse. Behind her was a long column of mounted Sharpshooters, followed by hundreds of other soldiers, their rifles balanced over their shoulders. There was a loud noise of an engine turning over, and the private looked over. One of the two T-55's engines was idling, as a plume of thick black smoke was puffing from the tank's side exhaust pipe.

The Russian soldier who knew Konrad was standing next to one of the tanks, and looked like he was reaming out a chubby student whose name escaped Alex. he looked back to see Agnès had rode up to him.

"I'm off to reinforce the fortress of Dunkerque."

Alex shrugged.

"Yeah, try not to get too bored whilst we're kicking Reconquista ass."

A worried expression crossed the female knight's face, and she leaned forward in her saddle. Alex came closer, and she grasped either side of his face, giving him a brief but passionate kiss. When he pulled back Alex was grinning.

"Careful, babe. I may pull you off that horse and have another quickie."

He glanced back at the soldiers.

"Be quite a show for the men."

She giggled and gave him a light cuff.

"Naughty boy!"

Agnès then paused.

"Promise me something, Alex?"

The private nodded.

"Sure."

"Come back to me safely! When it's done, come back to me in Dunkerque, so I know you're safe!"

He grinned at her.

"No worries, sweetie, this'll be a walk on the beach. When the last Reconquista target dummy falls, I'll have the El-Tee fly me to your fort and we'll have a post-battle roll in the hay, kay?"

Alex saw her nod, and he turned to leave. As he stepped away, he heard Agnès speak again.

"Wait, Alex!"

The young private paused and saw her beckon him closer.

"Well, I could use seconds."

She leaned forward again, but instead of kissing him she put her mouth to his ear and whispered three words.

"I love you!"

Alex smiled and leaned in to whisper in her hear.

"I know."

And she responded by cuffing him, but still giggling.

"You silly boy!"

With that she spun her horse to face the men. In a loud, commanding voice she spoke up.

"All ranks, forward ho!"

For a long while, Alex watched the soldiers file out of the gates of the palace, but finally with a heavy heart he turned and made his way back to the barracks.

At the head of the column, Agnès lowered her head. For some reason her heart was filled with a sense of foreboding, as if something terrible was going to happen to Alex and his companions. She whispered to herself.

"Remember your promise, Alex. Stay safe, my boy soldier!"

* * *

><p>It was past noon when Crosby left the dining hall in the palace to check on the 33rd's newest recruits. He found them in the Spring Courtyard, and saw the two T-55 tanks driving in slow figure-eight patterns, as their turrets swiveled back and forth. As he finished his apple Crosby thought that the students must be fast learners, things must be going well for Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin.<p>

Inside the turret of Rhino Two-One, the Soviet officer massaged his temples. Training was not going well for him. He sighed and keyed his mic.

"Alright, _Zlatovlaska_, load up a dummy round!"

Beatrice was standing by the breach of the tank's 100mm gun and nodded. She turned and pulled one of the shells off the rack in the turret. But as soon as it was released from its cradle the shell slipped in Beatrice's fingers and landed on the floor with a loud _Clang!_ She yelped.

"Ow!"

The Soviet captain cursed.

"_Blyad_! What are you doing, you clumsy cow?!"

Beatrice stopped sucking on one of her fingers and huffed, somehow Vasya's radio picked it up.

"Hmph! These shells are heavy, and I broke one of my nails!"

Vasya glared at the girl.

"I don't give a shit if you break all your nails, _Tsarevna_! If you drop a live shell we're all fucked up!"

The tanker made a loud explosion in his mic, which caused feedback that made the girls' ears ring.

"As in very loud bang that will kill you and ruin your pretty complexion, do you understand?"

The girl's large eyes widened at the man cursing at her, but she nodded uncertainly. Vasya shook his head as he leaned forward and peered into the command periscope,

"_Pizdets_! Even the goat-herders weren't this thick. One more mistake and I'll go find recruits whose hands doesn't grow from their arse!"

He spotted some target dummies in his scope and addressed the tank's gunner, Lisette.

"Alright, Lizzie! Tangos sighted at two o'clock, engage with secondary weapon!"

There was a loud groan as the turret rotated, then a loud bark as the PKT fired. Vasya peered through the command scope and saw the ground erupted all around the two target mannequins. When the dust settled both of the targets were still intact. Vasya cursed again.

"_Za-ye-bis', blya_! Hey _Kikimora_! Your aim is so bad I should have had you shoot at the grass!"

He cuffed the green-haired girl on the back of the head.

"From this moment, you will be officially known as DUMB-shooter!"

Vasya keyed his radio again.

"Katie, break fomation and proceed on heading north by north-west, understood?"

There was a brief burst of static, and Soviet soldier paused to collect his patience.

"You need to push button on microphone otherwise I can't hear you, _Chizhik._"

There was another brief pause before he heard the driver's meek voice.

_"Yes, sir! Understood sir!"_

Vasya continued to watch through his periscope as his tank turned and began moving in another direction. He let out a relieved sigh. At least the driver knew what she was doing.

"Well done,_ Chizhik_! Your driving skills would make Petya jealous. At least someone in this squad has something in their heads beside rocks."

He switched channels on his radio.

"Rhino Two-Two form up on my six and stay in formation."

He turned his periscope and saw a soldier, the sergeant named Crosby, standing close to their path.

"_Chizhik_, turn right so we don't run over our Yankee friend."

Vasya felt the tank change directions and relayed the same orders to Rhino Two-Two. He swiveled the periscope around to make sure the other tank followed suit, but to his horror the tank turned directly towards the soldier.

"Rhino Two-Two, I say again turn right. RIGHT! NO! _Yob tvoyu mat_', you stupid sheep your other right! Watch where you're going!"

The tank abruptly lurched to the right, almost throwing one of its treads off, and Vasya cursed. He snarled into his radio.

"All tanks stop. Repeat, all tanks STOP! That means you, Rhino Two-Two! Stop your bloody tank this instant!"

Obediently Rhino Two-Two grounded to a stop and sat there, its diesel engine idling. Vasya reached up and opened the hatch. He glared at Beatrice.

"You lot stay at your stations until I come back."

He then pulled himself out of the command cupola and marched over to the other tank. The Soviet officer ran his fingers across his throat, signalling the driver to cut the engine. The rumbling in the tank ceased, and Vasya motioned for the driver to come out. The chubby student pulled himself out of the hatch with some difficulty, apologizing. The Soviet officer held up a hand, forestalling any more talk, and wordlessly beckoned the student to stand directly in front of him.

"What is your name, _Ponchik_?"

Malicorne de Grandpré, sir."

Captain Bylinkin glared at the boy.

"Well, then Malicorne de Grandpré, how is it that a boy your age can make it into a magical school and not know his left from his right?"

The boy stared dumbly at Vasya.

"Well, luckily for your I have an easy way for you to remember."

He then lashed out with his heavy combat boot and stamped on the boy's right foot.

"That is your right!"

As the boy hopped around on one foot, Captain Bylinkin brought his hobnailed boot down on Malicorne's other foot.

"-And that is your left! Do you now understand your left from your right, _Ponchik_?"

The boy's face was flushed with pain, but he nodded.

"Then get back into that tank and when I tell you to go right you go right and when I tell you to go left you go left!"

Deciding that the boy wasn't moving fast enough,Captain Blyinkin encouraged Malicorne up the tank courtesy of his boot. He then turned on his heels to return to his tank, and sighed.

"Kids. I swear it wasn't this hard in Afghanistan. At least the goat-herders knew their left from their right."

* * *

><p><em>Glossary:<em>

Blyad_ (блядь) - lit. Whore, often used as exclamation (like "Damn!" or "Shit!"). Sometimes it is shortened to "Blya" (бля)._  
>Pizdets<em> (пиздец) - the best translation for this is "f*ck up". If used as exclamation ("Pizdets!") it can mean "All is f*cked up here!"<em>  
>Their hands grow from their arse<em> - popular Russian phrase, means that someone is incompetent for this sort of work.<em>  
><em>Yob tvoyu mat' (Ёб твою мать) - lit. "f*ck your mother". Often used as exclamation when someone is clearly not pleased with the other (like "Damn you!")<em>  
>Zayebis'<em> (Заебись) - it's hard to translate, the best variant would be "F*ckin' great!". As with many other Russian Mat words, it can be used both in positive and negative sense; Vasya uses it here to show his disappointment in girl's shooting skills.<em>

_Nicknames:_

Stilyaga_ (стиляга) - "the stylish one", after Soviet 50s-60s subculture of the same name._

Pavlin_ (павлин) - lit. "peacock". Often used to describe an arrogant man in fancy clothes, who is also a womanizer...fits Guiche to a tee._

Tsarevna_ - Means princess, when used in a sarcastic and derogatory sense means a tender and spoiled girl who don't know anything about real life._

Zlatovlaska_ - lit. Goldilocks, self-explanatory_

Ponchik_ (пончик) - lit. "doughnut". Made somewhat popular by "Dunno on the Moon" children book, where one of main characters is named Ponchik. In English translations he is called Roly-Poly. Like Pavlin, Ponchik is an appropriate nickname since he but he bears many similarities to Malicorne, ie both are chubby and somewhat whiny._

Kikimora_ (кикимора): female spirit in Slavic mythology. Sometimes it is shown as a rather ugly woman with unkempt green hairs who lives in the swamp. Not to be confused with Rusalka._

Chizhik_ (чижик): from Chizh (чиж) - Russian for siskin, a small European songbird or finch, it is an affectionate nickname for a young team member._

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it sort of made up for the shortish last chapter. By this time next week I'll be relaxing on a pristine white beach perfecting my tan and enjoying some mojitos. Until next time!)<em>


	133. Lock and Load

_(AN: You ever have that feeling that you just need to sit down and motivate yourself to churn out a chapter? Well, that happened here. Got back from vacay last week, and spent most of the week catching up and dealing with one disaster after another. But finally had enough and churned this out. Anyways, here it is!)_

**(In the Storyteller's realm)**

Country Ollman's voice spoke through the doorway that lead into the cottage's modest bedroom.

"Hey Barnaby!"

The dog butler entered the study and looked towards the doorway where the voice originated.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take the evening off, I'll be taking Captain Pelayo out to dinner tonight."

Barnaby cleared away the empty beer cans from the small desk.

"Very good, sir."

The dog glanced down at his master's desk, where a laptop was opened, and the latest entry still being written.

"Will you be finishing this latest chapter soon, sir?"

Country's voice came through again.

"Yeah I need to finish it, but I've had a rash of writer's cramp here recently."

Barnaby nodded his head.

"I completely sympathize, sir."

The dog-butler picked up another empty beer can off the floor.

"If I may make a suggestion sir, sometimes just starting with a small section of the chapter might help. One celebrated author had once remarked that the secret of getting ahead is getting started, and the secret of getting started is the breaking down the complex and overwhelming into small and manageable tasks, and then starting on the first one."

The Storyteller walked into the room, dressed in a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

"That's some pretty heavy stuff, Barnaby, and right on the nose."

The dog set down the tray of empty beer cans and nodded.

"I believe the author in question was Samuel Clemens, who wrote under the pen name of Mark Twain, sir. He was also attributed of saying-"

Barnaby had turned to face his master, but the words died in his throat as he took in the shirt Country was wearing. He let out a soft cough and cleared his throat.

"Something the matter, Barnaby?"

Barnaby's ears perked up.

"Sir?"

"Barnaby, whenever you cough and clear your throat like that it either means you have a bone in your throat or you disapprove of something."

The dog cocked his head to one side innocently.

"Indeed, sir?"

"Quite. And since lunchtime was several hours ago I can only deduce that you disapprove of something I'm wearing."

"As you say, sir."

Country let out an exasperated snort.

"Alright, Barnaby, out with it; I haven't got all evening. What about my attire doesn't meet with your approval?"

The dog cleared his throat again, although this time it was more diplomatic.

"It concerns the chemise you are wearing, sir."

Country glanced down at his shirt.

"What's wrong with it? It's authentic Banana Jack and it's one of my favorites! And besides, I'm not taking Pelayo to the Brown Derby, we're going to a beachside oyster shack, this shirt's perfect for that."

Barnaby shook his head.

"No, sir."

"How do you figure that?"

Barnaby cleared his throat again.

"Gentlemen do not wear shirts that are bright blue with large pink flamingos on them, sir. The combination of colours is tasteless, and in my humble opinion, are a riotous clash that is too much for the eyes."

The Storyteller snorted again.

"Oh, not this lecture again, Barnaby. First it was the pink rugby socks that you disapproved of, then it was the yellow checked suit, the black pork pie hat..."

Country didn't see it, but every objectionable article of clothing he mentioned caused the dog-butler to wince as if struck.

"...And then the last straw was the tuba, which I'm sorry, but that is a legit musical instrument!"

"No, sir."

"Say what?"

Barnaby shook his head.

"As I indicated to you at the time, sir, gentlemen do not play instruments that are best suited for tinpan alley orchestras and burlesque theaters."

The Storyteller threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine. What sort of shirt would be appropriate for taking a female Marine helo pilot on a third date to a beachside oyster shack?"

Barnaby reached behind him an pulled a shirt out of seemingly nowhere.

"If I may make a suggestion, sir, your Tommy Bahama silk shirt would be appropriate. The light grey compliments your khaki shorts, and the whimsical embroidery on the back depicting a martini glass and a parachuting olive fits the ambiance of a beachside establishment perfectly."

Country examined the shirt, then shrugged.

"Alright, suit yourself."

He unbuttoned the Hawaiian shirt and took it off, replacing it with the more conservative camp shirt. He then handed the more colorful shirt to Barnaby as he left.

"I'm off, then. Don't bother waiting up for me, I may take the lady for a starlight walk on the beach afterwards."

Barnaby took the shirt and held it at paw's length as if it were a particularly dirty and smelly sock found in a locker room.

"Very good, sir. The evening promises to be mild and we will have a waning Gibbous moon tonight. Ideal for strolling, sir."

Country left the front door, but his voice carried.

"Don't forget to put away my Hawaiian shirt, Barnaby!"

Without skipping a bit, Barnaby opened the trash bin and dropped the offending shirt into its depths.

"It will be handled, sir."

Having disposed of the shirt, Barnarby glanced down at the still-open window of his master's laptop and with a dexterity that defied the dog's paws clicked out a few more paragraphs, effectively finishing the chapter. He then pressed the 'Save' button.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I hate inserting an author's note midway through a chapter but one of the things I was struggling with was the geography of Tristain, and it will become relevant as the battles get underway. For the record the captial city Tristainia is coastal country in line with the Benelux countries, with Tarpes being the closest coastal city to the north. To the south and close to the Gallian border is the city of Brugues, and further south is the border Fortress city of Dunkerque. And for those curious Banana Jack's is one of the oldest and most respected Aloha shirtmakers in Hawaii. Okay? Then on with the show!<em>

* * *

><p>It was almost dusk when Konrad emerged from the palace. The colonel glanced over and saw both of the helicopters were being checked over by their respective pilots, and off to the side he saw the two T-55 tanks sitting side by side with the rest of the members of the 33rd. One of the figures marched over to him and saluted. Konrad smiled and returned the Soviet officer's salute.<p>

"So, Captain Bylinkin, how do the new tank crew members stack up?"

Vasya snorted.

"_Blya_! They're worse than the goat-herders, and they're nowhere near the level of Soviet tankers."

The Soviet officer reached into his pockets and pulled out an old pack of Russian cigarettes.

"I suppose I can't complain too much, at least they understand the basics. If I had a week they might be battle worthy, but at least with what I've taught them they might survive first contact with the enemy."

He pulled a cigarette out, and offered it to Konrad, who shook his head.

"Is alright, these cigarettes have the same replenishing spell as the ammo cheat on our guns."

Konrad chuckled.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Vasiliy. I don't smoke."

Vasya lit his cigarette and chuckled.

"Ah, that's right, Crosby said you Americans don't smoke anymore."

For a while the colonel seemed thoughtful as the Soviet officer puffed on his cigarette. Finally Konrad spoke up again.

"What about your other two squaddies, your junior officer and sergeant?"

For a moment Vasya just looked off in the distance, still smoking.

"I sent word to Petya, who lives in another oasis in the desert, but I have not heard from Misha in years. I doubt any of them will answer the call, but there is more hope for Petya."

Konrad nodded.

"So I assume you will be taking command of the tanks?"

"_Da_, I will be commanding Rhino Two-One, and your Delta Force sniper will assume command of Rhino Two-Two."

Konrad smiled again.

"Alright, give the word, we move out in five."

Vasya finished his cigarette, dropped it to the ground and stubbed it out with his boot.

"Understood."

The Soviet officer turned and made his way over to the tanks. As he approached he saw a small figure running towards him. The diminutive driver of Rhino Two-One, Katie was carrying some sort of basket. She paused in front of him, puffing and panting. The girl reached into the basket.

"Captain Bylinkin! I made these for the trip, I hope you like it!"

She offered Vasya a small baked pastry, and he took a bite. Immediately his taste buds were rewarded by the savory rich flavor of meat and sauteed mushrooms. He took another bite and smiled at the girl.

"_Pal'chiki oblizhesh'_! You know how to make a good _pirozhok_, my little songbird!"

Katie blushed and smiled, and he gave her head an affectionate pat. He then looked over to the other two girls.

"You two should learn from the _Chizhik_. For because of her I'm assigning you the nicer commander."

Vasya turned and called over to Lugo.

"Hey, _Molodoy_! Change of plans."

The Delta sniper approached Vasya's tank.

"What's up, Comrade?"

The officer frowned, and tapped his shoulder boards.

"Is Comrade Captain Bylinkin, or just Comrade Captain. You should respect rank, even between different armies."

Lugo grinned as he shrugged.

"Eh, I was too young to remember the Cold War. What's up?"

Vasya sighed. Young soldiers apparently lacked discipline in the American army as well as the Soviet.

"You will be commanding Rhino Two-One."

He gestured to the three girls.

"They're under your command. We move out in five minutes."

He bent down and took the basket.

"But this I'm taking with me."

Captain Bylinkin gave Katie a friendly smile and marched off. When he reached his tank he glared at the three boys assembled in front of it.

"It is your misfortune as well as mine that I am taking command of your tank. If you don't obey orders to the line and letter I will personally tie you to the front of the tank and ram it into a boulder, is that understood?"

All three of the boys gulped nervously, but nodded once. Vasya took a bite from another warm _pirozhok_ and started to climb up onto the tank.

"_Ponchik_, get this tank started up."

He glanced over to Guiche.

"_Palvin_, you will be loader."

The fop started to protest.

"But, Captain, I was the gunner in training!"

Vasya finished off the pastry and shrugged.

"Yes, and your aim is shit."

He looked back at the youngest boy, Hervé.

"_Zheltorotik_, you get to be gunner, by virtue of the fact that you can't be any worse than _Stilyaga _over here. Move out!"

He climbed up onto the turret and opened it. First Hervé climbed in, then Vasya followed. As he settled into the commander's chair he noticed Malicorne was looking back at him.

"What is it, _Ponchik_?"

The boy didn't answer, but looked hungrily at the pastry in the officer's hand. Vaysa shook his head.

"No, you cannot have one, _Ponchik_, you are fat enough. If you eat any more you won't be able to get out of driver's hatch."

He pulled on his helmet.

"Now, fire up the engines and get ready to move out!"

The courtyard echoed with the sounds of the diesel engines snarling into life, and a thick sulfuric cloud of smoke belched out of their exhaust ports. Satisfied that his crewmembers had their helmets on he keyed the mic.

"All crew, sound off."

_"Guiche de Gramont, at the gun breach, ready!"_

_"Malicorne de Grandpré, driver reporting tank engine warmed up and ready!"_

Vasya then heard a smaller voice through the static.

_"Hervé de ville Chaise, gunner at the ready, sir!"_

The Soviet officer nodded in satisfaction, then stood up, so that he was in the command cupola of the tank. He switched channels on his radio.

"Rhino Two-One, this is Rhino Two-Two, are you ready?'

The young American sniper's voice came through the static.

_"Roger that Rhino Two-Two, this is Rhino Two-One, ready to go."_

Vasya nodded again, and he heard the shrill sound of turbine engines powering up. He turned and saw both the Mil-24 and the Black Hawk's blades slowly start to turn and spin, then he climbed back down into his tank.

"All crewmembers, close hatches and prepare to get under way!"

* * *

><p>SSG Josh Forbes saw the Black Hawk power up, and turned back to face the two girls standing beside him. The bespectacled blue-haired girl was trying to be stoic, but he could tell she was holding back tears.<p>

"I'm sorry, Tabitha, but it's too dangerous for mages to be on this battlefield."

He gestured to the two tanks idling in the courtyard.

"We're going to be fighting against heavily armed infantry and tanks, it's no place for you."

He looked over to Tabitha's familiar, now in human form, and the hurt look in her blue eyes was like a knife in his gut. Tears streamed down Illococoo's face as she shook her head.

"B-but I'm afraid for you, Josh Forbes! What if something bad happens to you?!"

Forbes looked back at the Black Hawk and saw the Fire mage Kirche climb aboard, then he smiled.

"I'll be fine, sweetie. You just take care of your big sis, alright?"

Illococoo sniffed, wiped away a tear, then without warning she grabbed Forbes into a tight hug. Forbes still marveled at the strength of the girl, and the fact that he could feel her bust through his armor and vest. She looked up at him, her blue eyes shimmering.

"Just promise me you'll be safe, o-okay?!"

Forbes felt another set of arms wrap around his waist, and looked over to see that Tabitha was hugging him as well. She looked up at him, and gave him a faint smile.

"Be safe as well."

The sergeant nodded.

"I will, you two just keep the princess safe and we'll be back in a jiffy."

"Staff Sar'ant Forbes!"

He looked up and saw Private Walker approach him, grinning.

"Big Ugly One's ready for wheels-up, time to wrap up your happy time and mount up!"

Forbes nodded, and gently pried himself from the two girls' grasp, and followed the private. Both the girls watched as the sergeant mounted up into the airship with the red star on the side. Now dark, the only light in the courtyard was the blinking lights on the two airships. Then suddenly the courtyard was illuminated by the unnatural light coming from the front of the two siege engines, and they lurched forward into motion.

Tabitha and her familiar looked back at the airship as it taxied forward, and finally lifted off. The other airship, which was Saito's, also had a powerful torch light up on its nose as it lifted off. Little did they know but there was another who was watching the Black Hawk lift off. Princess Henrietta was watching from her balcony as the helicopter carrying John Konrad flew off into the darkness. She closed her eyes and wept a single tear.

"Please be safe, my beloved."

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

Pirozhki: _A kind of savory meat pastry that is popular in Russia._

Pal'chiki oblizhesh'!" (пальчики оближешь): _lit. "finger-lickin' good"._

Zheltorotik (желторотик): lit. _"yellowbeak" (from yellow-beaked), can be translated as "wet-behind-the-ears". In Russian language, this is a popular word for an inexperienced young man. Came from the fact that newborn sparrow chicks have yellow-colored beaks._


	134. Operation Bodyguard

_(AN: Aaaand in spite of my best efforts this chapter still took longer than expected. More work, more life more weirdness. So I've hacked and sawed and padded this chapter and finally just said to hell with it and posted it, so if there are grammatical mistakes or blatant inconsistencies apologies. Unfortunately this chapter has more flashbacks, but maybe this will get me motivated to finish the battle chapters and get the posted in a more timely fashion. Many thanks to Trainalf and biohazard115 for their help...)_

It was pitch dark as the two night watchmen made their way across the city walls of Brugues. One of them, Hubert, glanced up and saw Secunda and Masser, the twin moons, rising into the night sky. Both waning moons cast a faint light over the stone curtain walls, and the guard let out a shudder as an alien sound echoed across the plain.

Hubert looked up again, and this time saw two dark blots coming from the south across the night sky, each periodically flashing small bright lights in rapid succession. He nudged his companion.

"Look, Pierre! It's the Outworlders! They're coming!"

Pierre squinted in the darkness, and saw the dark shapes in the sky grow in size. There was another sound that echoed, this one sounded like a bestial snarl, and he turned his attention to the Ardness Forest. Two columns of black smoke puffed from the treeline, and Pierre could make out lights through the forest's undergrowth.

"It looks like the Outworlders are travelling by forest as well as by air, Hubert."

The guard called Hubert shook his head. Pierre shifted the halberd in his gripe and glanced over to his fellow guard.

"What is the matter?"

Hubert snorted.

"It's bad business, letting these Outworlders fight our wars for us. What sort of country is Tristain if we have to rely on others to defend our borders? And what if they betray our Queen?"

Pierre glanced fearfully at the foggy coast, less than ten miles away and visible to the naked eye.

"For now I worry if they will be enough to repel the Reconquista invaders, if they do that then I'll worry about their allegiances..."

* * *

><p>Crosby ducked as a low-hanging tree passed close the the turret he was riding on. The beam from Rhino Two-Two's turret-mounted spotlight speared through the darkness, and ahead he saw the reflective stripes on Rhino Two-One as well as several Sharpshooter soldiers hitching a ride on top. The Zulu Squad sergeant wasn't one to talk, since he had hitched a ride on Rhino Two-Two, and he glanced back. The column of Sharpshooter cavalry was keeping up with the two T-55 tanks, although he could hear the horses still snort and whinny at the sounds and smells of the tank's diesel engines. His thoughts were interrupted as he overheard radio chatter between the two tank's commanders.<p>

_"...for last time Sgt. Lugo, I will not say it."_

Crosby heard the The Delta sniper's reply, and even through the static he could picture the grin on Lugo's face as he spoke.

_"Oh come on, Capt'n, be a sport! What's so hard about saying six words?"_

Vasya's voice spoke up again.

_"Does not matter how many words it is, I will not say it. It is stupid and degrading."_

Lugo persisted.

_"Oh c'mon, just say it-"_

Here Lugo changed his voice to mimic Captain Bylinkin's thick Russian accent.

_"-Must keell Sqvirrel, then keell Mvoose!"_

Crosby shook his head as he heard laughter over the static of his radio, followed by Vasya's dismissive snort.

_"Blya! I can't believe you Yankees made such a cartoon! A dimwitted talking Mvoose, I can believe. But a talking, flying Sqvirrel with pilot helmet? Pizdets! Even a flying bear using balloon to get honey makes more sense..."_

Crosby couldn't help but chuckle, and he heard more laughter at Vasya unintentionally falling for the bait. Suddenly a faint voice came through on the command channel of his radio.

_"Iceman this is Bravo Zero Actual, be advised we are approaching fortification, pass the word."_

He looked up and saw a clearing in the forest. Crosby keyed his mic.

"Roger that."

He switched channels to the wide frequency.

"All units, be advised we are approaching the fortification, everyone get ready!"

As if to respond the hatch beside Crosby unlatched and clanged open, revealing the smudged face of Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin.

"So, you enjoying a little ride aboard a Soviet tank, Sergeant Crosby?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant glanced back at the cavalry and shrugged.

"It beats riding a horse, or walking."

He watched as the Soviet tanker pull a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. He tapped the pack on the heel of his gloved palm and shook a cigarette out, then struck a match off the turret. As Vasya took his first puff he muttered something to himself in Russian.

"What was that?" Crosby asked.

Vasya shrugged.

"Just remarking to myself that this is the second time I've been dragged into someone else's war."

The American sergeant looked intrigued.

"What was the first time?"

Captain Bylinkin smiled.

"You Americans think that we Soviets invaded Afghanistan, yes? To help spread Communism and subvert capitalism, yes?"

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you?"

Vasya took another puff and shook his head.

"_Nyet_, it wasn't that simple..."

* * *

><p><strong>Afghanistan, Thursday, December 27th 1979<strong>

Senior Lieutenant Vasiliy Bylinkin glanced down at the duty roster.

"Everything in order, Comrade Praporshchik?"

Petya smiled at his CO.

"All is ready, Comrade Starley!"

Vasya grinned at his junior officer's impudence. What his _Prapor_ lacked in military discipline he made up for in talent of keeping his T-55 tank in immaculate running order. As he handed the duty roster back to his junior officer Vasya spoke again.

"You think our goat-herders are ready?"

Petya shrugged as he pulled the door hangar door shut.

"I hope so."

He locked the door, the hangar housed all the tanks in Vasya's platoon, and it was the junior officer's duty to ensure the three tanks were secured. He turned to face his CO.

"Still hoping for that promotion, Comrade Starley?"

Vasya grinned. Tomorrow was to be a very important day, the _Polkovnik_ had announced earlier in the week that there was to be a big drill for the entire tank unit at the base. At precisely zero five hundred in the morning, the alarm would sound and all soldiers would have just ten minutes to awake, get dressed and ready their tanks for a 100-kilometer march around the countryside. And there was a nasty surprise; another tank unit acting as opposing forces would make a sudden attack on the column.

Needless to say Vasya and his squaddies were excited to see how their unit would fare. The stakes were pretty high, as well. Both columns would be led by Soviet military trainers, comprised young and promising officers. And, to quote one of Petya's favorite songs, the winner takes it all: in this case, a promotion. Vasya smiled to himself. Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin: that had a nice ring to it. His excitement dimmed slightly when Petya asked him the next question.

"Any word from our _Starik_?"

It was sad, two days ago Vasya's venerable _Starshina_ Mikhail Papanov made the mistake of eating expired rations and as a result got food poisoning. Since the tank base's medical facilities weren't equipped to handle such a case, Misha was taken to Kabul Hospital. Vasya chuckled in spite of himself.

"Oh, Misha will pull through. He's too tough to die from food poisoning."

Petya pulled out a pack of Belomor cigarettes and smiled.

"How is the old man doing?"

Vasya shrugged.

"The last time I saw him this morning he was complaining about the crappy food at the hospital. And the nurses, as he said it, 'came straight out of _Kunstkamera_'."

Petya smirked.

"Serves him right, I told him three times not to eat those sausages. You don't eat meat that's furry and green."

Vasya nodded.

"And I told him we would be missing him tomorrow."

The _Prapor_ smiled again.

"That is true, the old Dinosaur can sense a threat fifty meters before it enters our guns' range!"

Vasya's thoughts trailed off as he saw the sun set behind the mountains. Not for the first time the young officer thought that this country could be a contradiction. Afghanistan may be a dirty, arse-backwards piss-hole, but then out of the blue it gives off a beautiful mountain sunset worthy of an artist's painting. He glanced at his watch; it was almost nineteen hundred hours. Sure, they had to get up early tomorrow, but why not stay for a couple of minutes and admire the view? He saw his Prapor pulling a _papirosa_ out of its blue and white pack.

"Can I join you in a smoke before lights-out, Comrade Prapor?"

Petya smiled as his CO produced a white pack from his breast pocket.

"Would you like to try a real cigarette?"

The _Prapor_ chuckled.

"Java cigarettes, the latest achievement of our footcloth-recycling industry? No, thank you Comrade Starley, I'll stick with my Belomor."

Vasya laughed heartily as he placed a cigarette in his mouth and searched his pants pocket for a light.

"If you smoke the filtered cigarettes you'll live longer, Petya. Hell, we're lucky that they didn't issue us Prima cigarettes, or even worse that Vietnamese shit!"

Vasya's hand finally found tiny box inside his pocket. Good. Matches were absolute premium in Afghanistan, and in order not to waste them, smokers often gathered in small groups to satisfy their nicotine hunger. It was a real mastery to light not one or two, but five cigarettes with one match! He heard Petya chuckle.

"Well, as they say; goodbye, five minutes of health!"

Vasya struck the little sulfur head against the matchbox side, but never got a chance to light his cigarette.

**BOOOOM!**

The entire base shook from a tremendous blast that almost knocked both officers off their feet. Vasya heard the sound of glass shattering as several windows broke into tiny pieces and old hangars swayed dangerously, threatening to collapse and bury their precious cargo. The senior lieutenant looked up and saw two long, sleek planes hedgehop over at supersonic speed.

"What the hell is going on?"

Before Petya could respond he saw young Afghani soldiers, many of them in shorts and barefoot, come running out of their barracks. Some were cut by window fragments, some were bruised from falling, and absolutely everyone was startled to death.

"Earthquake!" one soldier wailed in shock. Blood oozed from a large cut on his forehead; the youngster didn't even notice it.

"Rebel attack! Rebel attack!" shouted another and pointed towards the city.

Hearing that, several soldiers ran towards the tank hangars, intent to defend their most prized weapons. Vasya's heart sank as he saw Afghan Army's communication hub, or what was left of it. The hub was situated a couple of kilometers east of the city, normally visible from anywhere in Kabul, was now a wreck. A thick column of black smoke marked its ruin, the antenna mast lay on the ground twisted and broken.

Suddenly, Vasya saw two specks in the darkening sky, moving away from the wreckage. They were the same two jets that had flown over the base. Each sported a small fire tail; indicating that they were using afterburners to move away from their target as quickly as possible. That meant only one thing to Vasya.

"An air strike? But who…"

His voice trailed away as the reality sunk it. Both Soviet and Afghan officers were in Kabul HQ, arranging the exercises; Vasya was the ranking man present at the base. Quickly his training kicked into high gear, and he barked at one of the junior sergeant.

"Wassim, sound the alarm!"

The young Afghani nodded, but suddenly froze like a statue, gazing at sunset.

"Junior Sergeant Khan, _blya_! Sound the…"

Vasya's last words were drowned in low, loud buzzing sound. He felt someone tugging his sleeve; it was Petya, who pointed at the same direction. Vasya wasn't a religious man but when he turned and saw what his junior officer and sergeant were looking at he whispered a forbidden religious phrase.

_"Bozhe moy…"_

It was like they came out from the sunset. Huge silver planes with four massive nacelle engines and large double tail fins filled the sky. Flying low and slow, they looked like some ancient dragons from a child's fairy tale. There were small dots surrounding them, as Vasya squinted he could make them out as fighter escorts. As the aerial armada flew over, Vasya noticed a distinct and very familiar symbol on their wings. A Red star.

"These are OUR planes?!" The senior lieutenant mumbled incredulously.

"That's… that's Anteys!"

Vasya heard his Prapor mutter dumbfoundedly, confirming his suspicions. Antey, or An-22, was one of the largest aircrafts in the world – and it was used solely by Soviet Airborne Troops. But what are they doing here? Vasya's thoughts were interrupted by his junior sergeant babbling.

"Co… Comrade Se-senior Lieutenant, look!"

He stared where Wassim was pointing, and the Soviet officer could make out bulky forms in the sky that were coming in from the north. He could hear the familiar thumping sounds. Helicopters. There were three of them, most likely from Bagram Airfield.

Two were Mi-8s, the flying workhorses of the Soviet Army; but the third was Mi-24 gunship, sporting several rocket pods and a large machine gun in its chin turret. As they flew closer, Vasya saw that they sported the same red star as the Anteys, meaning that they were Soviet, not Afghan. He shook his head.

This is madness, he thought, why would they be doing this? But his questions would soon be answered, as the gunship hovered directly above the tank base, a voice thundered via the craft's PA system.

_"Soldiers of the Afghan Army! We're acting on behalf of the government of Democratic Republic of Afghanistan! We are here to secure you and your military hardware against terrorist attacks! Do not, I repeat, do not engage! Any attempt to block us would be deemed hostile and would be met with a deadly force!"_

Vasya shot a glance over to the two transport helicopters, and stared as the Mi-8's rear doors swung open and soldiers using thin ropes rappelled down. As they landed, the Soviet officer could see that they were clad in camouflaged coveralls, balaclavas and helmets with built-in night-vision goggles. The soldiers also brandished shortened Kalashnikov rifles equipped with silencers. Suddenly Vasya turned to his Afghan subordinate.

"Wassim! Go find the other Afghan army NCO's Ahmed, Mohammad, and Rashid, and tell them to stand down. Do you understand? Do not interfere with these soldiers, that's an order!"

The junior sergeant glanced fearfully at the intimidating figures in camouflage, but finally saluted.

"Yes Comrade Senior Lieutenant!"

Vasya turned to Petya.

"Comrade Praporshchik Mironov, see that my orders are carried out."

After the last of the armed soldiers rappelled down from the transports, the Mi-8 banked off to the side, and the gunship came down to land. Apparently, the armed soldier's commander didn't like the idea of using thin rope as means of disembarking. When the Mi-24's landing gear touched the tarmac the double doors of its passenger cabin opened, and its sole occupant climbed outside. Vasya strode up to meet him, he wanted answers.

The soldier who disembarked was a relatively short man, although taller than Vasya, and clad in the same fatigues as the other soldiers, and just like them his face was hidden behind a balaclava. All Vasya could make of the newcomer was his rank; judging by two small stars on his shoulder boards he was a_ Praporschik_. Before Vasya could speak the newcomer removed his face covering.

"Ordering them to stand down was a very good thinking on your side, Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant."

It was the same voice that addressed them via loudspeakers. Vasya frowned.

"What is the meaning of all this, Comrade Praporshik? I order you to explain…"

Even though he was a junior officer, the _Prapor_'s cold gaze cut Vasya's rant short. The _Prapor'_s grey eyes were as hard as diamonds, and they seemed to drill right right the senior Soviet officer. Without his balaclava the junior officer's face was visible; he had sharp, hatchet-like features with a pointed nose and pursed lips. Between the eyes and the face the _Prapor _looked like the devil himself. Then it all clicked into place for Vasya: the _Prapor_'s uniform, his weapon, his manners, everything screamed of only one possibility: GRU, the Main Intelligence Directorate, and more to the point its long arm, the infamous Spetsnaz. Even the feared KGB felt uneasy when the GRU's trained killers were around.

The hard gaze faded, and the newcomer snapped a crisp salute. At least they are polite, Vasya thought.

"My apologies for the dramatic entrance, I am Praporschik Putyin. Where is the base commander?"

Vasya returned the salute.

"Starshiy Lieutenant Bylinkin. The Colonel and his deputies, as well as the senior trainers, are in Kabul on a meeting with High Command for a training mission tomorrow-"

The _Prapor_ interrupted Vasya.

"Are you the senior Soviet officer present, Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant?"

The senior officer nodded, somewhat flustered by the junior officer's directness.

"I am, but you have not answered my question, what the hell is going on?"

The commander looked over the base, which by this time was completely taken over by Spetsnaz. Each hangar door was now flanked by two soldiers, and another group was making its way to the weapon locker. Finally, the gimlet-eyed _Prapor_ turned back to face Vasya.

"Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant, my orders are to protect your base and hold it until further notice. Nobody is allowed in or out. I am authorized to use lethal force if necessary. Does that answer your question?"

Vasya gave the Spetsnaz commander a death glare.

"The hell it is! I demand an explanation, not some bullshit that comes from a man who is junior in rank to-"

Again, Vasya's rant was cut off by the _Prapor_ giving his own version of a death glare, and his was more effective. For once the senior lieutenant was glad that his bladder was already empty, he feared he might lose control otherwise. Then the _Prapor_ did something unexpected, he smiled. Although it was a smile more appropriate for a predatory cat than a human.

"May I ask you what time is it, Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant?"

Mechanically Vasya glanced down at his wrist.

"It is nineteen hundred hours, fifteen minutes."

The_ Prapor_ nodded.

"Good. Does this base have a radio room? I'll need to contact someone, he would explain it all to you."

Vasya nodded and led the Spetsnaz commander past the commandos and a group of Afghani army trainees. The senior officer was not happy at how they were guarded by the commandos as if they were terrorists, but he pushed aside those thoughts for later. When they arrived at the radio room Vasya switched several buttons and toggles on the ancient radio-set.

"Here is our radio, but why do you need it, as you can see it's a Dinosaur compared to your helicopter's radios..."

The Spetsnaz commander shook his head as he adjusted the dial.

"Our radios cannot operate on this frequency, I'm afraid."

Finally he quit fiddling with the radio and stood up.

"...I think you would like to listen to this program, Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant."

A voice came through the static of the radio's speakers.

_"This is Radio Kabul with an urgent message. Today, per orders of Afghan Revolutionary Central Committee, criminal and traitor Hafizullah Amin was arrested and put on trial for his crimes against Revolution. He was found guilty and subsequently executed for his crimes."_

Suddenly Vasya felt ill. The Afghan President was a traitor? And executed? The voice on the radio continued.

_"Our dear friends from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics kindly offered their help in maintaining peace and order on Afghan soil-"_

The radio squawked as the Spetsnaz commando turned it off.

"To be honest, Comrade Starshiy Lieutenant, I do not want any incidents here, and I don't think you want any, either."

He turned to leave, and Vasya followed him

"It would be best if you ordered all the Afghani soldiers back to their barracks. Tell them not to come out, and not to approach my men under any circumstances."

He continued as he went outside.

"My presence is needed… elsewhere. My men would follow your orders…"

The Prapor paused and gave another shark-like smile.

"...to an extent, of course. I suggest you place them as guards to the tank hangars and weapon lockers."

As he followed the commando back to his helicopter, Vasya struggled to collect his thoughts. The situation was bad; with every day the rebels grew stronger, and their attacks were becoming more and more brazen. But why would the Motherland send such a sheer number of troops to quell them? And above all why would the High Command give the order to seize Afghan military bases? The senior officer's thoughts were interrupted again as the Spetsnaz commander spoke up again.

"You said that you're just a trainer?"

Putyin had paused in front of the rear hatch of his gunship as the turbine engines to the Mi-24 whined, and its five-bladed rotor slowly started to rotate. Vasya shouted over the din.

"I am. Why do you ask?"

Praporschik Putyin smiled again as he stepped onto the first rung, and leaned in to Vasya's left ear.

"I'm afraid that you're a field player now, _Starley_!"

* * *

><p>Vasya smiled at the dumbfounded look on the American NCO's face.<p>

"As I said, Sergeant Crosby, things are seldom as black and white as our superiors paint them out to be."

He took a final drag from his cigarette and tossed the butt over the side. The forest had cleared away, and both moons were out in full force, casting their dim light onto the plain as the column made its way across. Off to the right in the distance the town of Brugues was visible, the night watchtowers still had bonfires blazing in them. Ahead of them was an improvised fortification of earth berms and tree-log walls. The Soviet officer swore under his breath.

"_Blya_! Are we supposed to defend the city with that? Against a thousand invaders?"

When Crosby nodded Vasya chuckled humorlessly.

"No wonder the Lady sent you tanks and a_ Krokodil_."

He glance back at Crosby.

"I hope your colonel has a winning strategy for keeping those invaders at bay, Sergeant. Even my Dinosaur _Starshina_ wouldn't like these odds."

The column approached the fort's entrance, which was protected by a moat of spikes and hole traps. As the lead tank drew closer the fort's heavy wooden drawbridge clanked open and offered safe passage across the deadly moat. Inside the fort was a buzz of activity, as Sharpshooters were mounting Gatling guns onto the walls and cleaning their rifles. As Rhino Two-Two ground to a halt Crosby could hear cross chatter between Big Ugly One and their CO.

_"Bravo Zero Actual, this is Big Ugly One: be advised I have an inbound bogey on my scope, it's coming from the sea so it's definitely not a friendly."_

He then heard Konrad's voice.

_Understood, Big Ugly One. Do you have a visual?"_

_"Ah, stand by. Sir, I have a visual on the bogey, it appears to be a dragon rider, riding solo.__ Stand by..."_

There was a pause.

_"Sir, he's approaching under the flag of truce."_

_"Then let him pass, Big Ugly One. Be advised, stay out of sight, we'll take it from here. I don't want to tip our hand just yet."_

Crosby jumped down and mounted the steps that led to the top of the wall. The colonel was at the top, surveying the construction of the trench beyond the parapet. The sergeant gave his CO a salute.

"Sir, Rhino Two-One and Two-Two reporting in."

Konrad returned the salute.

"Carry on, sergeant."

He looked up at the sky.

"We're going to have a visitor soon, so tell the men to be ready, but nobody fires unless I give the word, understood?"

"Roger, that, sir."

For a while nothing could be seen in the night sky, or even heard, except for the distant sound of surf waves crashing against the shore. Then, in the darkness A single shape appeared. Crosby pulled up his NVG's and peered through them. It was a dragon alright, carrying two riders. One was clearly a noble carrying the white flag of truce, but the other was dressed more austerely in black.

As they dismounted and marched up to the parapet, Crosby got a better look at them. The noble was wearing the gaudy clothes of Albionian nobility, and was a man close to Crosby's age with dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. The other wore black, and was larger man with a deeply etched scar that twisted his face into a permanent leer. The noble paused in front of the gate and called out in a loud voice.

"The Reconquista wishes to parley with the one called Konrad."

Konrad stood up, and signaled the gate to be opened. The noble approached Konrad, who gave the Reconquista officer a slight nod.

"I am Colonel John Konrad, commander of the Damned 33rd, and General of the Tristain Armed Forces."

The noble gave another bow.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord General Konrad. I am Lord Robert Rich, 3rd Earl of Warwick, and Commandant of the Reconquista Naval Fleet."

He gesture to the taller man beside him.

"And this is Herr Oberst Ernst Von Wittmann, Commander of the Reconquista Armoured Brigade."

Konrad raised an eyebrow at the large man, who was making no effort to conceal his disdain for the improvised fortifications.

"Von Wittmann, that hardly sounds like an Albionian name, or even a Gallian."

A thin smile crossed the large man's lips, and he clicked his heels together.

"As it should, _Herr_ Konrad. I am Germanian by birth, although I am currently aligned to Albion by circumstances...and ambition."

"Ambition, or oppression?"

Von Wittmann smiled wolfishly, his scarred face twisted even further.

"Call it what you like, oppression or ambition is the essence of power."

Col. Konrad shrugged, and turned to Lord Rich.

"Now that we have the introductions out of the way, what terms do you wish to discuss under this parley?"

Lord Rich smiled.

"Blunt as the anvil that you wielded from your smithie days, as I was informed. Very well, I wish to discuss terms of surrender, to avoid this unnecessary bloodshed."

Konrad shrugged.

"I would like to accommodate you, and you are right that a surrender would avoid bloodshed."

Both the Reconquista officers eyes widened, and Alex started to say something, but was shushed by Crosby. Konrad continued.

"I would like you to know, Lord Rich, that the Tristain Armed Forces will happily accept the surrender of the invading Reconquista Fleet, in the name of avoiding bloodshed. I promise that all of you will be treated fairly."

He glanced about the makeshift fortress.

"Although I confess we will have trouble with these current facilities to host all of the prisoners, but we can make due."

Lord Rich's face seemed unreadable, but the taller Germanian officer visibly seethed.

"You dare make a mockery of our parley?!"

He gestured at the makeshift parapet.

"You have barely fifty soldiers here, we have over a thousand men!"

Von Wittmann glanced over at the two T-55's idling in the dark.

"And we have dozens of siege engines that dwarf your two meager tanks. When we invade, we will obliterate you, why just the mere smoke from our guns will create a cloud that will blot out the sun!"

Alex couldn't help but quip.

"Then I guess we'll be fighting in the shade, pops!"

Neither Konrad nor Von Wittmann were prepared for Lord Rich's reaction. The noble burst out laughing, not a mocking laughter but a genuine belly laugh. As he struggled to compose himself the Reconquista noble wiped away a tear.

"Fight in the shade...I can see why so many flock to your cause, Lord Konrad. If battles could be won by wit and charm alone then you would be unstoppable."

He straightened up, and his face became more grave.

"But in this matter I am afraid I must agree with my Germanian counterpart. You are outnumbered, and I must appeal to your humanity as a commander."

Konrad nodded sadly.

"I appreciate what it is you are telling me, Lord Rich, because my offer was not a jest. I am sick and tired of battles where commanders send their men to their deaths when said battle's outcome is predetermined. I would ask you to reconsider my offer as well."

Sir Rich paused for a moment, trying to glean the Outworlder's words, to see if it was a bluff. Finally he turned to leave.

"Our guns will start firing at the crack of dawn, Lord Konrad, I hope you will be ready."

As he marched back out of the gate he heard the crazy Germanian noble speaking to him in his oddly accented voice.

"What arrogance. I will look forward to crushing him, Lord Rich."

When he didn't respond Von Wittmann stopped him.

"What is the matter?"

The Reconquista noble looked back at the parapet, where the one called Konrad was still standing.

"Something isn't right, Herr Oberst Von Wittmann. That implied threat of Konard was no bluff, he genuinely believes that this battle with be a one-sided massacre. And yet I see no evidence of it."

He shook his head.

"He must have something up his sleeve, but what, I cannot fathom."

Von Wittmann snorted derisively.

"Pah! They lost their battle airship at the gates of Tristainia, their other airship is too fragile to engage our siege engines. What could they possibly have that could be a match for us?"

* * *

><p><em>(AN: What indeed? The Reconquista haven't met a Mi-24V in action, but they will! Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner, so until then, here is a glossary of terminology:<em>

_Kunstkamera_: Museum located in St. Peterburg, it is famous for its collection of 'Anatomical Deformities', like two-headed lamb. Misha obviously isn't impressed with the looks of the nurses.

_Bozhe moy_: lit. 'Oh my God.'

_Papirosa_: A style of unfiltered Russian cigarette.

The 'bear flying a balloon' that Vasya quips about is refers to a Winnie the Pooh cartoon made in Soviet Russia in 1969. Don't believe me? Look it up on y*utube, it's a headtrip.

Also Von Wittmann's name is taken from an actual German tank ace from WWII, although his appearance and demeanor are more like Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who was high-ranking Nazi official and a real piece of work.


	135. Lend-Lease

_(AN: So, one more chapter and then we have a battle, yes? I realize this isn't a battle chapter, but it will be important to introduce one of Vasya's squaddies, to find out what he's been up to since his arrival here in Helkeginia. And to the guest who has left a dozen 'Guest' comments asking me to put Walker in here, the short answer is 'No'. Walker was no Hero, and only Heroes go to Helkeginia, just as Idealists go to Disney-verse. Walker was sent to Equestria to atone for his war crimes. That is all...)_

**(At The Seaside Cottage of Country Ollman)**

First Chaplain Zahariel Invictus of the Dark Templars found himself at a loss for words. It was unusual for him, since it was he who recorded the many deeds of his brothers to parchment vellum, that many would know of the bravery of his fellow Angels of Death. His sermons were the stuff of legends, whipping hundreds of his fellow battle brothers into a righteous and furious frenzy by his fiery rhetoric. But now, the Chaplain, clad in his midnight black armor with its skull helm, was hesitant.

The still of the evening was offset by the crashing of waves, and the wind carried the sea-salt smell over the beach to the large shadow's owner. Of course the newcomer didn't smell the sea-air, but his helmet registered the change in wind direction and helpfully calculated the breeze's saline content as well as it's oxygen content, scrolling information across his visor in High Gothic script.

The Astartes looked down at the door, and briefly wondered if he could just skip this evening. He had just led glorious epic battle with his brothers against the perfidious greenskins on a planet aptly named Murder, and was going to commit it to paper so other could read of his brother's glorious deeds. The commitment to this bizarre weekly human ritual of drinking and card games seemed beneath the Black Templars Chaplain, but he had given the host his word. And a Chaplain's word is not something easily broken.

As if on cue the door opened, and a canine with brown and black pelt walked up, speaking in cultured tones.

"Ah, Chaplain Zahariel, welcome. My master has been expecting you."

Zahariel let out an involuntary shudder at the idea of a talking canine, such mutations were anaethma to the God Emperor's teachings. But, as he had to remind himself, things were different here.

"Please, lead the way."

His voice came out in a grating snarl through the vox grille of his helm. As he followed the foul mutated servant dog through the house the Black Templar found himself crouching down to avoid widening the doorways with his large pauldrons or his power pack. Finally he entered the room where the other members of the Pantheon were.

The one sitting at the corner by himself was the self-proclaimed god of darkness who tormented the charges in his Tapestry with gruesome deaths and dark twists that surpassed even the Chaplain's grimdark world. He took the form of a large corpulent bearded man wearing leather cap and a soiled tee-shirt that had some large-eyed cyan Pegasus with rainbow colored hair. Although the Black Templar's helmet could filter out all sorts of poisons and other noxious fumes, he could still smell the sour body odor that surrounded the fat man like a miasma.

"I'm tellin' you Country! It just ain't right! Your 'Tapestry' as you call it, is a Spec Ops: The Line story, it needs more grim-darkness and death!"

The host Country Ollman shrugged.

"Hey, I've killed off a couple of characters, and even brought in Alduin from his prison. Trust me, it'll get dark before it gets lighter. After all, they still haven't used Willy Pete yet."

The jaunty host was wearing a white linen guayabera on it and he looked up at the newcomer.

"Ah, Zacky! You made it!"

He gestured to a large chair to his right.

"G'ahead and have a seat."

The armored giant rumbled irritatedly.

"My name is Zahariel, named after an ancient angel of death on my birthworld. Zacky sounds…juvenile."

"That's the point, darling."

The seductive and husky voice belonged to the second person seated at the table. Slaaneeth, the self-proclaimed goddess of pleasure, enjoyed putting the charges in her tapestries through all sorts of debased carnal acts, a practice she called 'slash fic'. This evening Slaaneeth had taken the voluptuous form of a female with lavender skin and jet black hair. A pair of sleek horns sprouted just below her hairline and sensuously swept back. For attire she favored a tight leather corset with chrome buckles and spike-heeled thigh high boots for the evening. First Chaplain Zahariel turned away from the foul creature, her gaze sickened his aesthete warrior code.

Slaaneeth gave another throaty chuckle and turned her attention back to her host.

"Forget the stinky loner, Country-Darling. What your 'Tapestry' needs is more sex."

She re-crossed her legs and conjured up a small world in front of the Storyteller, who was himself more interested in relighting his pipe.

"All those beautiful and busty women in Helkeginia, and yet you're so stingy with the smut."

She mockingly tutted as she shook her head.

"Why, it's practically a crime."

Country blew out the match and tossed it into the ashtray.

"Look Slaan, we've had this conversation before. I suck at writing lemons, and I'm a firm believer in the fact that a reader's imagination is far more adept at describing anything, up to and including graphic sex scenes."

Slaan leaned forward in her chair, putting her impressive bust on display for Country. She reached out with a leather-gloved hand and ran one of her sharp fingernails over her host's forearm.

"Maybe all you need is some guidance. I would be happy to help you in this regard. I think our...collaboration would be most fruitful. Sex is the spice that seasons every story, after all."

Country chuckled and stood up.

"Yeah, well Slaan, there's a difference in approach. I approach sex and the like the way I would season a stew; adding a dash of paprika or a pinch of cayenne to spice it up. The stuff you put your charges through is the sexual equivalent of eating a dozen Ghost Chili Suicide Wings."

He looked over to Captain Handwaver, who was dressed in Officer's Mess.

"Captain Handwaver, another mojito, please."

The officer nodded sarcastically.

"When I asked if there was anything I could be of assistance to I didn't think it meant being a busboy."

Country ignored the jibe and sat down. He looked over and saw Slaan had settled back into her chair, pouting.

"You really are no fun, Country Ollman."

The Storyteller took a sip from his drink and shrugged.

"You'll get over it, Slaan. Now, it's your turn to deal."

As the self-proclaimed goddess of pleasure dealt the cards, the fat one spoke up.

"Hey, Slaan! I'll collaborate with you! I'm working on this story involving a darker and edgier Batgirl collaborating with her lesbian lover Black Canary, think you can help?"

Slaan let out a disgusted snort.

"Country-Darling, would you kindly tell the Jabba the Hutt that if he ever speak to me again I will tear his manhood off through his anus, assuming I can find it. And while I'm at it I'll remove his thumbs so as to relieve the Pantheon of his sick prose."

Country shook his head.

"Slaan, remember what I said, no more violence at the card table."

He looked over to fat one.

"What she said, Chubs...it would probably behoove you to keep your yap shut."

The Storyteller took another sip of his drink, and a third voice spoke up, with a thick Lancashire accent.

"What's wrong with your story is all the inaccuracies and inconsistencies. I mean, do you know how much maintenance a UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter requires after each flight?"

Country glanced over to his guest. He was a man with piercing hazel eyes and short grey hair, dressed simply in a leather car coat and was toying with something that looked like a pen but emitted a blue light on one end. The Storyteller shook his head.

"Don't know, Doc, and don't care."

He set his cards down.

"And can we please have one card game without you going all Rigid Randy when it comes to the realism of my story? I mean, have you seen the world that it takes place in? It's a schitzo-tech medieval world with airships! Airships powered by magic crystals! And don't even get me started on the floating island. So I took a few liberties with the story, so what?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"I wouldn't call introducing the 'unlimited ammo cheat' when you barely ten chapters in 'a few liberties.' It's ridiculous and unrealistic. It's as if you don't want to acknowledge all the logistical impossibilities of having a 21st century military presence in a medieval world, and instead just throw in some wibbly wobbly spells to ignore them."

Country shrugged and gestured over to the officer.

"Eh, I don't go for that wibbly wobbly timely wimey crap. I just designated an official Handwaver for the story to handwave away any inconsistencies. Otherwise I'd be tying myself in knots trying to get it all to work."

The Doctor glanced down at his hand and snorted.

"I fold. And besides, blatant handwaving is just an excuse for poor writing."

The Storyteller shrugged his shoulders again.

"Yep, you're probably right, but you're forgetting, my story is a crackfic, so the rules don't apply."

The Doctor almost did a spit take with his gin and tonic.

"What?! Y-you can't just make up rules?"

Country finished his drink.

"Why not? We're gods, we create these little worlds, why should we let silly things like rules get in the way?"

The Doctor was about to retort when a deep voice spoke.

"I would like two cards, please."

The rest of the conversation was put on hold as all the players received cards and watched as Slaan placed five cards face side up on the table. When the flop was revealed Country checked his hand and could scarcely believe his luck. He had the makings of a straight flush.

Then the door opened, and Barnaby came in. He cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm so sorry to bother you, but the Lady Tinúviel is here."

The fat one looked up from his cards.

"There's a girl coming here?"

Country rolled his eyes.

"No, she isn't."

He looked over to the dog.

"Can you tell her I'm not in?"

The dog shook his head.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I have already taken the liberty of informing her Ladyship that you were in. She wishes to speak with you and said it was a matter of some urgency."

The Storyteller snorted and went back to his cards.

"Nuts to that. Dames think everything's a matter of life and death, whether it's a cracked nail or their poodle getting a case of the whooping cough."

He looked back to Barnaby.

"Can you make her some tea and stall her for like ten minutes?"

"I already have, sir. Her Ladyship was most insistent upon seeing you."

Country sighed.

"Look, Barnaby, I have a really hot hand here and I really don't want to see-"

"-the Lady Tinúviel, sir."

Every player looked up and were mesmerized, their card game long forgotten. Even the stoic Zahariel, Chaplain of the Black Templars, was staring at the beautiful creature that gracefully entered the room. Country Ollman shook his head, and a smile played on the lady's lips as she bowed and spoke in a musical voice.

"My apologies for interrupting you, my Lord. But what I have to say cannot wait."

Country opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Slaaneeth.

"Well, well, well! Country-Darling you've been holding out on me."

The Pleasure Goddess stood up from her chair and sashayed over to the new arrival.

"Who is this pretty thing, and where did you find her?"

The Storyteller shrugged.

"She's my second in command, highly competent in weaving the Tapestries I've assigned her, but also has notoriously bad sense of timing."

Slaan eyed the Weaver, and her golden eyes glittered.

"You never told me you had this delectable treat working for you."

The creature reached out and ran her fingers through Tinúviel's green hair. Slaaneeth brought a lock to her face, and the slits she had for nostrils flared.

"Mmmm, innocence and idealism, both are rare nectars in my realm."

Country sighed.

"Slaan, will you please not molest the hired help? It's rude, and well, creepy."

Tinúviel brushed the Pleasure Goddess's groping hand aside with an irritated slap.

"It is quite alright, my Lord. I am more than capable of handling this degenerate trash."

Slaaneeth gave a throaty chuckled.

"Oooh I like her, she has some spirit. I'd enjoy putting you through a few centuries of mind-numbing pleasure, my pretty. And I'd enjoy the sight of you enjoying it."

Country shook his head and stood up.

"Ok, that's enough, Slaan, get back into your chair and deal me out of this hand."

He looked over to the Weaver of Fate.

"Toots, make tracks for my study."

* * *

><p>Once in the privacy of his study Country sat in his leather easy chair and relit his pipe.<p>

"Alright, toots, what's so important that it cost me a lucrative poker hand?"

The Weaver smiled.

"But my Lord already knows."

Country shrugged.

"Yep, but since you interrupted the card game I'd like at least to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

She sat down in a chair opposite him and leaned forward.

"My Lord, I humbly request to intervene again and succor aid for my charges. They do not realize the peril that their enemies will inflict upon them, and I fear for the losses they may incur if I do not intervene."

He looked at the stem of his pipe and frowned.

"If you're going to do what I think you're going to do, then you know that breaks the rules."

She gave a coy smile.

"But as my Lord said, they are just rules. Why let something as silly as rules get in the way?"

Country chuckled as Tinúviel echoed ironically his own words back to him.

" Touché, toots."

He took another puff off his pipe and shrugged.

"Alright, I'll allow it, just this once."

The Weaver clasped her hands together, then stood up.

"Thank you, my Lord!"

She gave a low bow.

"I will leave you to your game, my Lord."

With that, the Weaver snapped her fingers, and vanished. Country was still chuckling and finishing his pipe when the door to his study opened, revealing Barnaby.

"Excuse me, sir will you be rejoining the festivities?"

Country cleaned out his pipe and stood up.

"Might as well, the guests haven't started shooting each other, have they?"

Barnaby cleared his throat.

"No, sir. But I think that the pleasure goddess is close to throttling the odoriferous one, sir."

The Storyteller chuckled.

"Yeah, ol' Georgie is a bit of a stinker and not good on the ol' social skills, isn't he?"

The dog did his best impression of raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed, sir. If you recall we canines have exceptionally sensitive noses, and your corpulent associate is as fragrant in his lack of hygiene as he is blatant in his lack of tact."

* * *

><p>In a brilliant flash of light the Weaver appeared. She was standing on the outskirts of a small village in the desert, near a small oasis with shimmering blue water. Near the water's edge was a bungalow made of bamboo and thatch, and next to it was a hammock. Resting in the hammock was a young man wearing tattered grey tanker's coveralls, he was in the process of telling a joke to a group of young elf maidens, each bearing a jug of wine or a plate of food. As the Lady approached, she could hear the young man telling a joke in his thickly accented voice.<p>

"...and then the missile officer snaps up a crisp salute and proudly reports to his commander: "Nothing to report during my watch, Comrade Colonel', and the colonel, whose face is a vivid red, lividly spews out 'Nothing to report, you say? Nothing to report?! So where the hell is Belgium?!'"

He chuckled, but then saw the puzzled look on the girl's faces.

"Erm, it's funnier if you've been in Soviet Army during Cold War."

One of the girls, a blonde elf named Lucientia, let out a light laugh as she refilled his goblet with wine.

"I think it was funny! The punchline is that the soldier accidentally blew up a country, with the powerful Void Spell when he fell asleep, right?"

Pytor, formerly Praporshchik Mironov, smiled.

"Very good, Lucientia, very good. Later I'll tell a joke about the tanker crew who encounters the Fairy Queen in the forest..."

He looked up and saw the Weaver approach.

"Um girls, could you give me a minute with my visitor?"

The elf maidens all glanced at the new visitor, and quickly dispersed. They didn't know who beautiful lady with the long flowing green hair was, but her aura was enough to tell them that she was someone very important. After the last one left Petya took a swig from his goblet.

"So, it has been what, a couple of centuries? Why the sudden visit, Beautiful Lady?"

The Weaver smiled.

_**"I come to you to request a favor of you. There are those in this world who need your help."**_

Petya snorted.

"Bah! I'm not interested in getting involved again. Besides, the last time we spoke you scorned my affections and broke my heart."

The Lady Tinúviel glanced about at the elf maidens that were waiting just outside of earshot, all staring and tittering. She looked back and smiled at Petya.

_**"`Tis true, your situation looks most heartbreaking. Why, your suffering looks to be unbearable, I know not how you can survive."**_

That caused the young Soviet soldier to chuckle.

"Ha! At least you haven't lost your sense of humor, Beautiful Lady."

He settled back into his hammock.

"So, just out of curiosity, what is this favor you want?"

The Weaver gave a light nod.

_**"There are other Outworlders, erstwhile enemies who now are united to fight and protect a country most vulnerable to attack. Regretfully their numbers are too few, and if they do not get relief their casualties will be grievous."**_

Petya's brow furrowed.

"If I am reading between lines of your fancy talk, you're telling me that there are other soldiers, probably Yankees, yes? Who now are trying to protect the magic-wielding humans, who are in turn sworn enemies of the elves? The very elves that I am currently living among?"

With the Lady nodded, the young officer snorted.

"Sorry, no can do. I'd like to help, but I'm retired, re-ti-red! With a capital R!"

He settled back into his hammock.

"Besides, my war days are over, you promised us peace in this nice world. Here, I have a nice set of D's-"

He held up his goblet.

"Nice drink,"

He gestured with his goblet to Luctiana and the girls.

"Nice _devotcha_,"

He then jerked a thumb at the small hut near the shore.

"And a nice seaside _dacha_! And I definitely do not plan to encounter a not-so-nice D; Death! Especially if it's mine!"

The Weaver was silent as a grave expression crossed her face.

_**"But, if you do not intervene now, the war will eventually come to you, and the enemy will be much more powerful. You will not be able to stop them when that happens."**_

Petya took another drink.

"But if I go now, I can stop them?"

She nodded, and the young soldier spoke up again.

"So what exactly are these _Amerìkānets_ going up against that would require my help?"

**_"Their enemies are far more numerous, and they wield many tracked engines of destruction, that while crude compared to what you wielded in your world, will still overwhelm them."_**

"So, you're telling me that their enemy has tanks?"

When the Lady nodded, Petya shook his head.

"I should have guessed that's why you wanted me."

He looked back up at the Lady.

"So, basically you want me to leave my oasis, go to a country in the middle of a battle teeming with tanks, and risk my neck to help these Yankees?"

The Weaver nodded, and Petya shrugged.

"_S goloy zhopoy na tank_? You're very beautiful, Lady, and obviously a military genius not unlike that of Generalissimo Suvorov. But there is one small thing: in case you haven't noticed, I don't have my tank anymore!"

He paused.

"...And unless you have spare hidden in the folds of that pretty dress-"

Petya glanced over her silky gossamer-thin raiment.

"-Unlikely, given your attire-"

At that the Lady put a hand to her mouth and giggled.

"-then I'm not leaving, and that's that."

The Lady smiled, undeterred.

_**"`Tis true, but I do have something else. Something much better."**_

She extended her slender hand towards him.

_**"Come, and I will show you."**_

Petya eyed her suspiciously.

"You're not going to magically teleport me to the battle are you?"

She giggled again.

_**"No, I promise. I just wish to show you."**_

Petya accepted the Lady's hand, and pulled himself out of the hammock with some difficulty. As he followed her, he handed his goblet off to Lucientia, who clearly wasn't happy at his departure.

"Is okay, dearie. I will either be right back or will be back soon with large fancy tank to show off. Either way, don't worry about Petya."

He left the elf girl behind, still marveling at the large saucer-sized eyes that shimmered like water on a lake, and continued to follow the Lady. She disappeared around a large outcropping of rock, and when Petya Mironov rounded the corner he took in a sharp breathe.

_"Bozhe moy…"_

He fully expected to see his old T-55, or maybe the latest gizmo of the Soviet Armored Forces, the T-80. But the huge, tracked vehicle that stood before him looked like it was taken straight out from an old science fiction novel.

Its silhouette was similar to that of the venerable BMP-1, but that's where similarities ended. Instead of thin metal skirts, the vehicle's sides sported large bricks of modular armor, not unlike that of a heavy tank. It was painted black, and sported a nose that came to a sharp point like a sailboat's prow. On the front there were two headlights and a tow cable that was stretched across the frontal armor plate; the end result looked like the vehicle was grinning merrily. Up top was a small, odd-shaped turret with a long-barreled autocannon and four large missile pods. Several tubes of various sizes were bolted at various angles atop the side skirts, looking like they were designed to fire some sort of grenades.

Petya ran a hand along one of the armored side fenders that were covering the exhaust.

"_Nifiga sebe_, where did you get this thing? Planet Saraksh?"

The Lady let out a musical giggle.

_**"From the same army that you hailed from, albeit much later in time."**_

Petya raised a brow when he noticed a faint outline of a five-pointed star on vehicle's side.

"But how?"

The Lady smiled enigmatically.

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere in Siberia, March 2016<em>

The desolate Siberian tundra was shattered by the snarl of twin turbine engines roaring. A rough underbrush of trees parted as a massive black vehicle crushed the small trees under its treads. The engines roared again, and the vehicle cleared itself of the wreckage. An automated turret atop the vehicle's armored hull pivoted back and forth, it's massive autocannon moving independently of the turret as it looking for prey.

Inside the impeccable interior a smaller man in tanker's coveralls and Captain's shoulder board stared at flat LCD screen. Through the screen he could see what the autocannon could see, and with a small joystick he made the turret pivot. The captain pushed a small button to the side of the screen, and it immediately washed the area in dark blue, so that anything living would show up bright white on the screen. Seeing nothing the Captain pushed away.

"_Blya_! Nothing, not even a fucking rabbit. I really wanted to try out the autocannon on something besides a flat target on the range."

"Andrey, what do you want, *hic!* for some noble stag to just sit there and let you plug it full of holes?"

The owner of the second voice was a fat man in a mottled green camouflaged uniform with colonel's shoulder boards. He chuckled as he tossed back the contents of granchak glass he was holding. As he poured the potent vodka into his glass, the younger Captain held out his canteen cup for a refill as well. As the Colonel obliged him he spoke up again, hiccuping slightly.

"By the way Andrey, I've read in press that there are some scientists in Moscow who want to resurr- *hic!* -rect mammoths. I suggest you give them a call, you may end up with quarry worthy of these *hic!* missiles!"

Andrey took a swig from his canteen and exhaled alcoholic vapor.

"Speaking of Moscow Boris, why the hell the brass give us this thing?"

He took another drink and belched.

"I mean this area is a goddamn _taiga_, why would anyone want to send such thing here?"

The colonel shook his head and hiccuped again.

"Andrey, you dick, they want us to tee- *hic!* -sssst it."

He gestured around the interior.

"And you weren't complaining *hic!* when it arrived. You practically jumped at the chance to take it on *hic!* hunting trip!"

The one called Andrey chuckled and looked ahead to the driver's compartment.

"Hey, Vlad, are we there yet? My trigger finger's itchy..."

The driver consulted the GPS monitor to his right.

"We are almost to the gaming preserve, Captain. There is bound to be elk and bears in this area, trust me you will have something to shoot at with the 30mm autocannon. Just don't drink all the vodka before we get-"

Something appeared in the driver's viewscreen, and his eyes widened. Quickly he jerked the control yoke off to the right, causing the vehicle to lurch, and both the colonel and the captain spilled their drinks in the process.

"Vlad, you idiot, what have you done?!"

Boris tried wiping some of the spilled liquor off his uniform and glared at the driver. Their vehicle had ground to a halt, and Vlad looked to be in a trance.

"Comrade Colonel, I am sorry, but there was a beautiful woman in the path."

Boris shook his head.

"_Blya_! You're drunk, Captain!"

The driver turned around, his face flushed.

"No, really, there was a beautiful lady that was sitting on a log, brushing her hair, and she was barefoot!"

The colonel glanced over to the officer in the gunner's chair, who snickered.

"Vlad, you ARE an idiot. This is Siberia, there are no beautiful women in Siberia, and they certainly wouldn't be barefoot!"

Both the officers undid their safety harnesses and stood up. The captain opened one of the overhead hatches and pulled himself up. The colonel followed, with some difficulty, and finally the driver emerged from the driver's hatch. All three jumped down and immediately their boots squelched in sticky mud that was the consistency of pudding. Boris surveyed the damage; their Armata was stuck in the middle of a bog. He glared at the driver.

"Oh great, we're stuck! Congratulations, you moron, you drove us right into a swamp!"

The driver glanced around nervously.

"Comrade Colonel, this swamp is probably new; there is no hint about it on our maps!"

He looked back.

"We're not too far from our base – I'll go there and bring BREM! We'll pull this thing out of the swamp in no time!"

Boris sat down on a tree stump and tried to clean the mud off his boots.

"You'd better, or I'll see to it myself that you'll be transferred to Chukotka – as Lieutenant!"

Andrey was about to chime in when a feminine voice spoke up behind him.

_**"I am sorry if I caused you distress."**_

The voice sounded like an angel singing, and when the colonel and his lackey turned around their jaws almost fell into the swamp. The driver was right, there was indeed a beautiful woman, seated on a tree stump.

She was fair, with pale skin and long flowing hair, and was dressed in a long, flowing dress like a nightgown. She stood up from her perch and strode over to the three dumbfounded officers. Her raiment looked to be made of silk, and although she walked through the bog, neither her feet nor the long train of her gown was stained with mud. The rational part of the Boris's brain was trying to reconcile the fact that this otherworldly beauty had emerald green hair, and for a moment recalled fairy tales his grandmother told him as a child. The officer's brain also tried to rationalize how someone could wear a dress that was too thin and inadequate for this harsh climate, and she was, as Vlad said, barefoot.

The lady took no more notice of the ogling soldiers, but walked around their transport, examining it as if it were some work of art. After a few minutes that seemed to stretch to eternity, the lady looked back at Boris at his compatriots. She noticed him staring at her, and let out a musical giggle.

_**"This will be sufficient."**_

The beautiful creature walked up to Boris and spoke in that angelic voice.

_**"**_**_I _**_**am afraid I require your vehicle. I thank you for your understanding."**_

Before Boris could process what she was saying, the lady snapped her fingers, and both her and their transport disappeared. For a long time there was silence, neither the colonel, nor his lackey nor the driver could speak. Finally Boris broke the silence with a curse.

"_Za-ye-bis_! That bitch took my vodka bottle!"

* * *

><p>Petya saw the Lady smile at him without responding, and shrugged.<p>

"Alright, keep the secret to yourself."

The young officer pulled himself up onto the hull of the armored vehicle. As he opened one of the hatches up top, the Lady called to him.

_**"I take it this means you will help?"**_

Petya looked back and smiled at the Beautiful Lady.

"Yes, Lady, for this beautiful machine, I will help the Yankees defeat their enemies."

The Lady gave a light bow, and in a bright flash of light, disappeared. Petya dropped into the open hatch, and marveled at the interior, it looked like the interior of a space ship. All of the metal surfaces were painted white, with gleaming chrome fittings. The chair he was in was padded and comfortable. Judging by the control yoke in front of him, this must be the driver's station, but there were no periscopes or viewing slits, merely a blank screen.

"I probably should have asked the Lady how to start this thing." Petya mumbled to himself.

Then he noticed a small laminated card off to the side, with printed startup instructions. He smiled to himself.

"Well, this works."

Lucientia looked up from her chores at the sound. It was bizarre, a snarling, whining, metallic noise that was not made by any beast. She heard rumors of the Outworlders and their weapons, and wondered if they had arrived at this Oasis. She stood up and walked towards the origins of the noise. When she turned around a large outcropping of rocks she let out a terrified squeak at the massive metal monster that stood before her.

Petya pushed one of the buttons that gave real-time readouts of oil pressure, engine and turbine temperatures, and pressed another button that cycled through all the external cameras. This vehicle really was a technological marvel, Petya thought. As the screen popped up with a caption that read 'Camera Front' he chuckled at the sight. There was the poor elf-maiden Lucientia, who was trembling like a leaf. He pulled himself up through the open hatch.

The girl let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Petya popping up from the top of the metallic beast, it meant this thing wasn't hostile, or at least was under his control. He called out to her.

"Hey, Lucie, think you could cast a Void Spell for me? I have to go rescue some Yankees."

* * *

><p><em>Siberia, March 2016<em>_, Military Detachment 4316, Commander's Office __07:23 hours local time_

Andrey and Vlad stood before the colonel's desk, still flushed and feverish from their hangovers, along side their colonel, Boris. The desk was occupied not by the base's commander, but an older man with sharp features and a widow's peak. Eschewing a lavish dress uniform, the man was dressed in mottled olive-green utilities. It was the gold star on his shoulder boards and the impressive 'fruit salad' on his left chest that gave away the man's rank and importance. His grey-green eyes glared at the three hungover officers.

"You lot are a disgrace to the uniform of the Russian Federation! I should have you shot!"

He glanced down at a folder.

"Taking a prototype Armata on what amounted to an unauthorized joyride in the countryside! Do you realize this is exactly the sort of stereotype we have to fight against? The Yankees still think we're a bunch of unprofessional louts who drink vodka all day!"

Deputy Minister Dmitriy Bulgakov flipped over a page in the folder.

"And then you lose it?! How does one lose a T-15 IFV, hmm?"

The colonel named Boris opened his mouth to speak.

"Comrade General, we didn't-"

The Deputy Minister silenced him by slamming the desktop with a calloused fist.

"And then your subordinates cook up a cock and bull story that is completely unbelievable..."

The younger officer tried to speak, but Bulgakov interrupted him again.

"Do you dispute your own words, Captain? Your report clearly states and I quote-"

He pulled on a pair of glasses and read from the report.

"-'A beautiful lady with long green hair and wearing a purple and gold nightgown appeared in front of your path, then she snapped her fingers and both her and the Armata disappeared.'"

Bulgakov took off his glasses and glared at the officer.

"You are trying to tell me that a _rusalka_ stole it!? Just how stupid do you think I am?"

He shook his head and massaged his temples.

"And to top it all, the President himself will be coming here in two days to inspect the base, and he specifically asked to see the new vehicle in action."

He glared at the officers.

"I have personally debriefed him on the situation, and he is not pleased. If one of you doesn't give birth a T-15 in the next 48 hours, I will personally see to it that your balls are fed to his pet tigress Illona!"

Andrey and Vlad exchanged nervous glances, while Boris merely hung his head. This wasn't going to be a pleasant week.

* * *

><p><em>(AN: So the Weaver of Fate is getting pretty bold, stealing a prototype Russian tank in broad daylight, and ruining the days of some officers to boot. In fairness they're not model soldiers in the Russian Federation. Seriously after reading about the Armata IFV and seeing it in action I thought to myself, I have to put this in Helkeginia! <em>

_Glossary:_

_S goloy zhopoy na tank: _hard to translate it right, it means 'having nothing but your bare arse against a tank.' Often said by someone facing a powerful enemy like a tank while having almost nothing to attack it with.

_Nifiga sebe_: Where the heck did you get this.

'Give Birth To': This Russian idiom is the equivalent to the American slang of 'Sh*t X', or in the context of the content 'If one of you doesn't sh*t a tank in the next 48 hours..."

_Generalissimo Suvorov_: Petya is referring of course to Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov (1729-1800) who was a famed Russian general who was reputed to have never lost who never lost a battle, being undefeated in over 60 large battles while frequently having numerical disadvantage. He was famed for his military manual '_The Science of Victory_'.

_BREM_: Russian acronym for armored recovery vehicle.

_Granchak_: Type of drinking glass made in USSR and Russia.

_Saraksh_: Post-apocalyptic planet from "Inhabited Island" (1971), a science fiction novel by Strugatsky Brothers.


	136. Fight In The Shade

_(AN: So some of you might notice that there are fewer chapters...well I've cut and/or consolidated some of the shorter chapters that were just overglorfied author's notes, hence the reason why...Now, without further ado, I give you the first chapter of the gloriously awesome Battle of Brugues!)_

Crosby peered through his NVG out into the foggy plain. Beyond he could hear the waves crashing, and smell the salt air, but he couldn't see anything beyond the fog. He heard SSG Forbes' voice to his right.

"Dammit, Big Red, why the hell aren't you cold? That wind coming off the North is freezing my balls off!"

Crosby glanced over and chuckled to himself. The busty redhead Kirche Von Zerbst had volunteered to be part of the platoon of Sharpshooters manning the trench that stood between the beach and the improvised fortification. There three Gatling gunner's nests that in theory could turn the entire beach into a killzone, providing every member of the 33rd did their part. Crosby saw that the redhead was pushing her impressive bust against his fellow NCO, who in turn looked very uncomfortable. Kirche let out a chuckle as she rubbed herself against Forbes.

"Why, Sergeant Forbes, lest you forget, Fire is my Element, and the fire that burns within me keeps me warm! If you need me to warm you up I can certainly oblige you."

The Zulu Squad sergeant watched Forbes squirm for a good minute, then finally spoke up.

"Alright, Kirche, that's enough. Keep an eye peeled for any movement."

He heard the whine of turbine engines spooling up, and glanced back. Less than nine hundred yards behind them was the parapet, and by the sound of it Bravo Zero was getting ready to take off. Crosby heard a sigh to his left, and saw that Saito was also looking back. The Toyko teen had come a long way from an awkward kid turned familiar, and was wearing his digital ACU's and brandishing his AKMS.

"Listen, Specialist, I know you wanted to pilot Bravo Zero, and I know you don't like the idea of someone else piloting your 'Bird. But you're needed down here."

Saito sighed again.

"I know, Crosby-san, but it still sucks."

The Zulu Squad sergeant noticed the boy's hands were shaking as he attempted to pull the bolt back and verify there was a round in the tube.

"Nervous, kid?"

The teen glanced up at Crosby and nodded.

"Y-yes...I mean, this isn't the first time I've been in combat, but in the last two times I was flying a chopper, not down here in the trenches..."

The sergeant gave Saito a reassuring smile.

"Well it's not much different, other than the enemy's closer and you won't have a cockpit to protect you..."

He noticed the teen breaking out into a sweat as he gave a fearful glance out onto the still-dark plain and the beach beyond. Crosby shrugged.

"On the plus side, you don't have to worry about getting shot down..."

That earned a chuckle from the Tokyo teen, and he successfully pulled the bolt back on his machine gun and checked it.

"Roger that, sarge. At least I'll be able to finally get to use this thing..."

Crosby was about to remind Saito that being in a battle wasn't the same as being in a video game, but his radio crackled to life.

_"All units, this is Bravo One Actual, sound off."_

He heard his fellow soldiers sound off. McPherson's voice was the first to speak up, he heard the Black Hawk lift off.

_"Bravo Zero, recon, taking off."_

The chopper flew overhead and momentarily bathed the trench in the bright light from its nose-mounted spotlight before gaining altitude. Captain Bylinkin's voice came through the static.

_"Rhino Two-Two, on the ready."_

Lugo's voice followed, mimicking the captain's accent.

_"Rhvino Tvwo-Vone, also on the ready!"_

The sergeant shook his head, and thought he heard Vasya chuckling. He then heard Alex's voice.

_"Bravo Six-Two, Spotter on the wall, reporting!"_

Lt. Bowles' voice spoke up.

_"Big Ugly One, waiting in the shadows on the ready!"_

Finally Lt. Gordon's voice came through.

_"Heavy Four, commanding Big Guns One and Two, locked and loaded!"_

Crosby recalled the quick mission debriefing after the Reconquista delegation had left. According to Bowles there was a massive wooden dreadnought moored just off the coast, he had been keeping an eye on its movements. When the landing vessels were in range, Gordon would commence bombardment of the beach courtesy of their AA guns, coordinating with Bowles who was going to perform strafing runs and hopefully reduce the Reconquista's numbers before they made landfall. Once there was a significant ground presence Crosby's platoon would engage the enemy, backed up by Rhino Squadron.

In the event that the trench would get outnumbered, Crosby's platoon was to fall back to the fort, with Rhino Squadron and Big Ugly covering their retreat. Then the combined firepower of the T-55's and the Mi-24 Hind would crush any remaining enemies. At least that was the plan, and every member of the Damned 33rd knew how long a plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Suddenly the Zulu Squad sergeant's radio crackled to life again, and he heard McPherson's voice.

_"All units be advised, landing craft had disembarked from the mother ship, I say again landing craft are inbound!"_

He turned to the soldiers in the trench and barked out orders.

"You hear that! Everyone lock and load! Get ready!"

Crosby heard McPherson's voice again, this time he was conversing with Lt. Bowles.

_"Big Ugly One, this is Bravo Zero, do you have a visual on the landing craft?"_

_"Roger that, Bravo Zero, I have eyes on what looks to be about two dozen landing craft disembarking from the mother ship, and that number is going up. Stand by for strafing run."_

* * *

><p>The Reconquista noble couldn't believe his eyes.<p>

Sir John Seymour had ordered his charges, twenty Fusiliers from the 2nd Regiment of Foot, into a small boat that was supposed to deliver them onto the beach. He had the dubious honor of being one of the first to make beachhead, and he fully expected some sort of resistance. Any resistance; cannons, muskets, or more of the Outworlder's magic. But the beach was totally silent, like some ghost city from children's tales. He turned to his charges and drew his saber.

"Alright gents, be prepared for anything! Something is not right there!"

The noble didn't need to say that, all of his soldiers were on edge, clutching their Lee Enfield rifles and ready to shoot anything that moved. He chuckled at the recollection of his conversation with the half-mad Germanian inventor turned officer in the newly minted Gallian Armored Corps. Herr Oberst Von Wittmann had ordered all the infantry commanders to dig in and wait for the armored backup. An order that Sir John Seymour had no intention of following. He had no intention of having some foreigner steal the glory from the Republic's 2nd Regiment.

If the Germanian wants to show off his armored contraptions, he should've made them faster, he thought with a chuckle as he threw a look to the clouded sky. The noble's thoughts were interrupted as a cluster of speakers appeared out of nowhere and the hated Jester's voice boomed across the sky.

_"Well well well! I guess the Rascally Reconquista didn't learn their lesson the first time and another ass whooping is in order. This time we've got more than a coupla tanks up our sleeve!"_

A cold knife of fear stabbed the noble's entrails. Something was definitely not right. The Jester's mocking voice continued.

_"Oops, too late to surrender now, we've just unleashed Big Ugly One! And he ain't leaving town until all you motherfuckers are dead! Say hello to his Shooter!"_

Another loud voice, with a country accent, boomed out.

_"Hey Honey! Where t'Hell's My Shooter At?"_

Then there was a loud ratcheting noise, that every Fusilier recognized as the sound of a gun being cocked. Then followed the sound of a gun being fired, and bullets ricocheting. Finally, it faded to loud, pulse-pounding music that caused the men's eardrums to throb.

_"You can call me honey, you can steal my money_  
><em>You can try again and you can pray to heaven<em>  
><em>But I tell you, honey, like the sun is sunny<em>  
><em>Baby, I won't put my shooter down!"<em>

Over sound of the music Sir Seymour heard a thumping, chopping noise, and his fears were realized. That sound heralded the approach of the Outworlder's airships. A dark shadow loomed in the fog off to their right, it grew in size as it got closer. When the infernal machine cleared the fog, every man in the ship, even ones who had witnessed the Outworlder's technology firsthand, lost control of their bodily functions at the sight.

It was like the other airship, in that it was held aloft by spinning blades, but this one had the look of the man-eating predators that inhabited the deep oceans. Sir Seymour could see a large cannon on its chin, and stubby wings bristled with weapons. He gave the order.

"Fire! Fire at that infernal thing!"

* * *

><p>A single bullet pinged off the armored canopy on the forward gunner's station, and Robert Darden, aka the Radioman chuckled.<p>

"Don't those idiots know they're only going to scratch the paintjob on this thing with those peashooters?"

Lt. Bowles didn't answer, he was lining up a shot with the holographic gunsight for the S8 rocket pods. Finally his finger tightened on the trigger of his cyclic stick, and he let out a whoop as a series of successive _'Wooosh' _rockets streaked from their pod and off towards the first vessel. He watched through the INVG scope as they connected to their target, and exploded in a shower of splinters.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!"

His gunner chuckled in the radio.

_"Nice shootin' Peg-Leg Pete!"_

The lieutenant grinned.

"Fuck you, Darden! And put that MG to a good use, will ya?"

The cockpit shook slightly as the Radioman fired the Hind's chin-mounted Yak-B Gatling gun spewed out 12.7mm bullets at the rate of 60 rounds per second. As the Mi-24V banked away from its strafing run, three troop vessels were already obliterated or sinking into the bay. Bowles was about to do another strafing run when Darden spoke up.

"Hey, Bowles we got inbound bogies coming in hot!"

The lieutenant smiled and looked back over his shoulder. Two Royal Sharpshooters were in the passenger compartment, each was manning the starboard and port window-mounted PK LMG's. He gave them the thumb's up, and both the Tristainian soldiers nodded and pulled the cocking levers back on the belt-fed machine guns. Bowles turne back into his seat. He heard McPherson's voice come though the static in his headset.

_"Ah Big Ugly One, be advised you've got at least six dragon riders converging on your Six, and one big one approaching your starboard blind side."_

"Roger that, Bravo Zero, taking evasive maneuvers, everybody hang onto your butts!"

Bowles jerked the cyclic hard, causing the Hind to bank sharply to the left, and throwing his pursers off. He heard the staccato bark of the PK's firing at the dragon riders, and noted with satisfaction that one had been hit. A lifeless body was reaching terminal velocity as it crashed to the ground, with it's dragon mount spiraling at a slower rate. His thoughts were interrupted as the gunship's airframe shook from an impact. Quickly his eyes scanned the gauges and then he looked back.

"You guys okay back there?"

When both Sharpshooters nodded he turned back, hearing McPherson's voice again.

_"Big Ugly One, looks like one of them scored a glancing hit off your port hullside, everything in the green?"_

Bowles went through a quick systems diagnostic and nodded.

"That's an affirmative, Bravo Zero, any damage visible from your poz?

There was a slight pause before McPherson responded.

_"Ah, that's a negative, looks like they scorched the paint-job but no visible damage."_

* * *

><p>From his perch atop the parapet Konrad surveyed the opening salvos of the battle through his binoculars.<p>

"Bravo Zero, Big Ugly One, this is Bravo One Actual `port in."

Lt. Bowles responded first.

_"Big Ugly One reporting about fifty troop ships making for the beach, we've got at least five more of these dragon riders up here as well."_

The colonel nodded and keyed his mic.

"Roger that, Big Ugly, what's your ETA to clearing that obstacle?"

_"Bravo One Actual, figure about ten mikes, then we'll be back to strafing the ground forces."_

Konrad spoke into his radio again.

"Understood. Big Ugly One, Bravo Zero, engage the dragon riders but stand clear of the bay, we'll give Gun One and Gun Two some target practice."

Both Bowles and McPherson responded.

_"Roger that."_

_"Copy that, Bravo One Actual."_

Konrad then switched channels on his radio.

"Heavy Four, this is Bravo One Actual, coordinate with Bravo Six-Two and take out those landing crafts!"

_"Roger that, Bravo One Actual, stand by."_

Lt. Gordon keyed the mic on his radio.

"Bravo Six-Two this is Heavy Four standing by for firing mission, give me something to shoot at."

He heard Alex's voice chuckle.

_"Roger that, Heavy Four, stand by."_

After a minute the sniper's voice came through the static again.

_"Be advised I have eyes on ten inbound tangos, range eighteen hundred meters and closing, Grid ES 935 by 963, how copy?"_

Gordon made some calculations and relayed the the necessary adjustments in elevation and orientation to both gunners. He then keyed his mic again.

"Grid ES 935 by 963, solid copy. Stand by, fire for effect."

When the guns were primed and ready, Gordon spoke again.

"Firing for effect."

He turned and bellowed orders.

"Fire!"

Both guns recoiled in their carriages from the earth-shaking report, and immediately he pulled up his binoculars and spoke into his radio.

"Shot, out!"

He could make out two spouts of water where the shells impacted, but beyond that he couldn't tell. Fortunately Alex answered his question.

_"Heavy Four shot, out. Be advised adjust fire, adjust fire: direction 400, add 150, left 100, how copy?"_

Gordon nodded.

"Acknowledged, adjusting fire direction 400, add 150, left 100. Firing again."

He relayed the orders to his fire crew, and once gain the guns roared. This time he didn't have time to check, he heard Alex let out another whoop over the radio.

_"Got the sunzabitches! Heavy Four shot, out, confirmed two tangos down, repeat two tangos down."_

The lieutenant smiled as a cheer range out among his gun crew.

"Roger that, Bravo Six-Two, now get me another firing solution!"

* * *

><p>Saito leaned out of cover and fired off a burst with his AKMS, then ducked as the incoming fire hit the sandbag emplacement of their trench. The other Sharpshooters returned fire. He heard the distant thump as one or both of the AA guns fired, and heard Forbes bellow out an order.<p>

"Incoming! Take cover!"

Instinctively he and the other soldiers crouched and flattened themselves against the sandbags as two shells whistled overhead. He heard two successive explosions as the shells impacted. When Saito peered out of cover he saw two plumes of water and erupt, and two more troop ships destroyed.

He glanced back and chuckled at the sight of Kirche clutching onto Forbes for dear life. Then he felt a hand roughly pull him into cover as his position was peppered with bullets. Crosby signaled him to stay down, and the Zulu Squad sergeant snarled into his radio.

"Big Ugly One we're getting hammered here, how much longer until you can provider covering fire?!"

He heard Lt. Bowles' voice come through the static.

_"Sorry, Iceman we're kinda busy up here, estimated ETA five mikes, try to hold out until then!"_

Saito heard another voice, this one was Alex, speak up.

_"Ah, Iceman this is Bravo Six-Two I've got eyes on some yahoo waving a saber, looks like he's the one directing all the fire on your poz."_

He heard Crosby snort.

"Roger that Bravo Six-Two, do you have that bastard in your sights?"

Alex didn't respond, and Saito peered up, through a slot in the sandbags, and sure enough there was a Reconquista noble waving a saber, urging his men forward and out of the relative safety of the beach and directing fire at the trench. Then without warning the noble's head exploded in a shower of blood and brain matter, followed by the loud report of a rifle being fired. Saito then heard the Alex's voice chuckle through the static of his radio.

_"Kill is fucking confirmed!"_

Immediately the bullets ceased flying, and Saito peeked out over the sandbags to see the Reconquista soldiers scatter without their leader to direct them. He then heard Crosby's speak up.

"Thanks Bravo Six-Two, you're a lifesaver! See if you can pick out more of the nobles, we'll be returning fire!"

There was just a squawk as Alex acknowledged. Saito fired off another burst in conjunction with the Gatling gun emplacement next to him, driving the Reconquista soldiers back to the beach. Crosby barked out another set of orders.

"Keep up the pressure, men! If we can keep those bastards pinned down until Big Ugly One freed up, they'll be easy pickings!"

Saito looked up, even though the sunrise was almost complete and it was mid-morning he couldn't tell, the blackpowder smoke from Reconqusita's rifles and their own guns created a smoky haze over the battlefield. The Tokyo teen couldn't help himself, he started to giggle uncontrollably. Sgt. Crosby noticed this, and leaned over.

"What's so funny, Specialist?!"

Saito, still laughing, shook his head and keyed the mic on his radio.

"Bravo Six-Two, you just had to say it, didn't you? You had to say 'Fight in the Shade!"

Alex's only response was laughter as he pulled the trigger on his M99 and sent another .50 caliber BMG round down range.

* * *

><p>From the bridge of the wooden dreadnought Sir Rich viewed the carnage unfolding on the beach and cursed. He had already lost over a hundred men and they still hadn't secured the beachead. He lowered his spyglass.<p>

"It is not even two hours into the battle and the butcher's bill is already high."

He glanced over to the towering Germanian officer and glared.

"Why don't you deploy your secret weapon already?"

Von Wittmann gave an evil smile.

"Patience, _Herr_ Rich, patience. We must wait until the Outworlders have deployed their tanks into the field. Then and only then will I spring the trap I have in store for them!"

_(AN: Uh-oh, what is the secret weapon that the crazy Oberst has in store for the Damned 33rd? Stay tuned and find out! Oh and be prepared for plenty of More Dakka, Death from Above and Gatling Good in the next couple of chapters, as well as enough shout-outs and blatant war movie cliches to fill several Encyclopedias...Until Next Time!)_


	137. Come and Take It!

_(AN: Well, this took longer than expected. I've been sketching out the battle chapters and post battle chapters, including some nice twists and turns to the plot. my hope is to be able to get at least one chapter up per week, depending on my schedule and my beta's schedule. As promised here is the next battle chapter. And I promise the next one shouldn't take as long. Enjoy!)_

Saito peered out of cover, only to have his position peppered with bullets.

"Shit! Those Reconquistas are dug in like fleas on a dog's back!"

He blind fired out of cover.

"Can't flush `em out!"

Kirche tried to stand up, only to have a gloved hand roughly grab her elbow and yank her back into cover. A harsh voice snarled out.

"Get down!"

The busty redhead looked over and saw SSG Forbes glaring at her.

"Listen, Big Red! Those double D's might be impressive but they ain't going to stop a bullet!"

Forbes unclipped a frag grenade from his vest and pulled the pin.

"Grenade out!"

He immediately aimed his M4 down range. He had fragged a couple of the Reconquista soldiers already, so they learned very quickly of the little metal ball's dangerous properties. Two of the Fusiliers broke cover, trying to escape the grenade's deadly blast. The sergeant squeezed off a couple of bursts. Josh Forbes smiled in satisfaction as a spray of red gore erupted from the back of the enemy soldier's helmet. Forbes aimed and fired another burst before the first body could crumple to the ground, his second burst caught the other Fusilier in the chest.

"That's another one!"

But it was a feint, as more Fusiliers popped up and fired in rapid succession. Forbes had not time to react, but fortune was smiling on him. Only two of the enemy soldier's rifles fired, the others appeared to have jammed. As time slowed down the sergeant seemed to see the bullets go wild, the squad leader part of Forbes' brain told him that the enemy was panicking and losing their confidence. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted, and two of the bullets struck Forbes, but were stopped by the ceramic plate in his vest. A third disintegrated on impact and knocked the wind out of him as he finally hit cover. Kirche immediately was at his side, but the sergeant refused any help as he pulled himself back up, scanning for more targets. He felt a trickle on his cheek.

"Mr Forbes! You're bleeding!"

Forbes ignored the sting and shrugged.

"Eh, just a paper cut. No time to fret over it."

The redhead paused, staring out at the improvised cover that the Reconquista were hiding in. Suddenly Kirche smiled, and leveled the M32 MGL, murmuring an incantation. Three successive _Thumps!_ sent grenades down onto the enemy's position, but she looked down at Forbes and winked at him.

"Does the handsome battle scarred Forbes have time to duck?"

The grenades detonated, sending up dirt and debris as well as body parts, killing most of the Fusiliers and flushing the rest out into the open. The survivors tried to fall back to their main line, only to be cut down by the Gatling gun emplacements. Forbes heard his radio crackle to life.

_"Iceman, be advised more hostiles are inbound! More troop ships and some slow moving big fuckers. Probably heavy armor."_

He heard Crosby's voice come through the static.

_"Roger that, Big Ugly One. How many on the newcomers?"_

There was a pause.

_"Be advised I've sunk four but I'm counting about ten of the big slow movers with more on the way. They're tough, too...takes about several rockets or a couple of strafing runs to sink `em."_

Forbes saw a black and white armored figure approach, crouching down to avoid being hit.

"Hey Crosby! What's the sitch?!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant plopped down.

"Sitch is closely approaching FUBAR, sergeant. We've got around six hundred of those Reconquista Fusiliers on the beach, the AA guns and Big Ugly are keeping them pinned down, but there's been a couple of sorties that have attacked our side in ever increasing numbers."

Forbes nodded.

"Yeah, there was about a dozen of those bastard that tried to overrun our poz, we only just barely beat `em back."

Crosby glanced over the sandbag emplacement, then keyed the mic on his radio.

"Bravo Zero Actual, this is Iceman, requesting that Big Ugly disengage from the landing fleet and provide immediate assistance to the forward post, over."

Konrad's voice came through the static.

_"Negative, Iceman, Big Ugly One is the only reason you haven't been overrun yet. Hold position and sit tight, we're sending in Rhino Squad."_

* * *

><p>Colonel Konrad peered through his binoculars, and glanced over to where they young sniper was positioned on the other side of the parapet.<p>

"Bravo Six-Two, this is Bravo One Actual, any sign of the armor?"

The private's response was immediate.

_"Negative Bravo One Actual, I can't...wait a minute. Stand by, Bravo One Actual I need to make visual confirmation."_

The colonel heard Alex address McPherson.

_"Bravo Zero, Bravo Zero, this is Bravo Six-Two, there are large transports making beachhead, can you confirm?"_

McPherson's voice responded.

_"Bravo Six-Two this is Bravo Zero I have a visual, Big Ugly One can you confirm visual?"_

This time Bowles' voice spoke up.

_"This is Big Ugly One, I can confirm, fifteen heavy transports made beach-head. Looks like they're holding two tanks per transport. Bravo One Actual, continue to engage?"_

Konrad raised his radio.

"Big Ugly One, this is Bravo One Actual, confirmed continue to engage and destroy as many as you can."

He looked over to where the two T-55 tanks were idling, and switched channels on his radio.

"Rhino Squad, you are up, prepare to engage the enemy. Repeating, Rhino Two-One, Rhino Two-Two, get ready!"

Lugo grinned as he got the orders through his earpiece and gave the thumbs-up to Captain Bylinkin. He then pulled off his baseball cap and donned the tanker helmet, then lowered himself into the commander's chair inside the turret.

"Alright ladies, it's showtime!"

He glanced forward to where the small brunette girl was seated at the controls. The Delta Force operator part of Lugo's brain still rebelled at the incongruity of having a teenaged girl driving a tank, but he pushed the thought away.

"Katie, take us out through the main gate, then take us out North, North-West, on a heading of 335.9 degrees, how copy?"

His driver responded in a meek voice.

_"Heading North, North-West heading 335.9 degrees, confirmed, Sergeant!"_

Vasya watched as the lead tank rotated in place and lurched forward, throwing out a dense plume of diesel exhaust as it rumbled towards the gate. Overhead he heard more music playing from unseen speakers. The music had lyrics, but they were too faint to make out.

The Soviet captain shrugged, and pulled on his helmet as he lowered himself into the commander's seat. After he plugged in his helmet Vasya heard more of the same music, although it was faint it was coming throught the static, and he could make out the words of a peppy upbeat jingoistic song accompanied by thundering electric guitars.

"'America, Fuck Yeah'? What is this garbage?"

He shook his head.

"_Pizdets_! I hope that is joke song, but you can never tell with the Americans..."

He peered through the periscope and gave his first commands.

"_Ponchik_! Follow Rhino Two-One! And no screw ups!"

When Malicorne gave an affirmative, Vasya looked over to his loader.

"_Stilyaga_, make sure there is an AP round loaded in the breach!"

He then glanced down at the slight figure of his gunner.

"_Zheltorotik_, be ready to fire that thing when I give you a target!"

* * *

><p><em>"Iceman, Iceman, be advised Rhino Squad is inbound. Stand by for armored support."<em>

Crosby grinned as he heard the colonel's voice in his radio and gestured for Saito to come over.

"Specialist, spread the word through the rest of the trench, armored support is inbound."

The Tokyo teen nodded once, and started to leave before Crosby tugged on his sleeve.

"-And don't forget to tell the Sharpshooters to keep their heads down. Last thing we need is friendly fire incidents."

Saito smiled.

"Roger that, sarge!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant saw Forbes approaching his position, which Kirche hot on his heels. Before Forbes could ask, he heard the snarl of a diesel engine and looked over his shoulder. Sure enough the two T-55 tanks were approaching, their green hulls gleaming in the midday sunlight as they belched out thick clouds of bluish-black exhaust. He saw the lead tank rotate its turret and shouted down the trench.

"All units get down! Armored support is firing!"

The lead tank effortlessly closed the distance between the trench and the Reconquista soldiers, its coaxial machine gun barking and kicking up large clods of dirt and rock. Crosby noted that some of the Fusiliers were stupid enough to try and shoot at the tank with their rifles, watching the bullets ping harmlessly off the T-55 was morbidly humorous to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

He turned back to Saito and the Sharpshooters.

"All units, engage the Fusiliers, don't give `em a chance to fight back!"

The soldiers immediately raised their rifles and fired volley after volley into the retreating Reconquista soldiers. As Saito fired a burst from his assault weapon he heard the clattering of tracks as the Soviet tank rumbled past his position. A thick plume of black smoke puffed from Rhino Two One as it gunned its engine and navigated up a muddy slope. Off in the distance the Tokyo teen could see boxy shapes emerging from the smog of war. He wanted to warn Lugo, but as it turned out it was unnecessary. The tank shifted directions, moving parallel to the trench and its turret slowly rotated to face the oncoming enemy armor.

* * *

><p>Sgt. Lugo wiped the sweat from his forehead as it stung his eyes. The interior of the T-55 was not only cramped, but hot as hell. He peered back into the command periscope. Ahead was an unnatural bank of fog created by the clouds of gunpowder smoke from both Reconquista and Tristainian troop weapons. As the Delta sniper squinted and turned the periscope around, he thought he could make out shapes.<p>

"Rhino Two-Two, possible contacts ahead!"

The Soviet officer's voice came through the static.

_"Understood, Rhino Two-One. Confirm when you have a visual!"_

Then the enemy armor emerged from the haze. They were massive pillbox-shaped monstrosities riding on caterpillar treads that ran their entire length, and tall smokestacks in the rear belched out a choking black smoke that added to the miasma of battle. He practically shouted into his radio.

"Contact, contact, contact, Ten O'Clock! Hostile armor inbound at 10 o'clock!"

He looked down at Lisette.

"Gunner, site in lead tango, fire at will!"

The green-haired student nodded, and Lugo felt the turret groan as it turned into position. She peered into the gunner's scope.

"Tango sighted, firing main gun!"

The entire tank shook from the recoil of the main gun firing, followed by a loud _Clang!_ as the spent shell hit the tank's floor. Lugo stared through the periscope and saw the shell hit and the enemy tank was engulfed by a blinding explosion.

"Hit! We have a hit!"

He checked his periscope again.

"More tangos sighted, two enemy armor inbound at Two O'clock! Rhino Two-Two, they're closing in on your position!"

He heard Vasya's calm voice over the radio.

_"Understood, Rhino Two-Two engaging..."_

Lugo keyed his mic.

"Rhino Two-Two, do you need assist?"

_"Negative, these little toy tanks will be no challenge. Rhino Two-Two, out."_

* * *

><p>Captain Bylinkin couldn't believe the enemy's idiocy as he tracked their approach from the command periscope.<p>

"_Blya_! Why are these tanks showing us their flanks?! Do they want to get shot at?"

As he got a closer look at the enemy tanks he was reminded of the older tanks the British used in the First World War. They had no turrets to speak of, but two large sponson-mounted guns on each corner. One of which was tracking them. Instinctively he pulled back.

"Enemy fire incoming! Evasive maneuvers, _Ponchik_, NOW!"

He felt the T-55 lurch as it changed directions, but it was not quick enough. There was a loud _Clank!_ that sounded like someone hitting the turret with a sledgehammer.

"We've been hit! We've been HIT!"

Vasya swore under his breathe. The blond fop was screaming hysterically like a girl, and the officer thumped the boy's head to shut him up.

"Will you shut up, _Stilyaga_! It was a glancing hit, and we have at least 100 millimeters of armor at any point protecting us. So don't piss your frock yet."

He glanced into his periscope again. The enemy tank was just sitting there, and if an inanimate object could look stupefied, then this tank looked it. Vasya also noticed his gunner still had his hands clamped over his ears. He cuffed Hervé on the back of the head.

"Why haven't we returned fire yet, _yob tvoyu mat', blya!_?! _Zheltorotik_, target that tank and fire!"

The turret rotated, and a second later Vasya felt the T-55 shudder as its main gun fired. He peered through the scope. The enemy tank was on fire.

"Rhino Two-Two has scored a hit, tango down."

He glanced down.

"_Ponchik_, what are you waiting for, another tank to shoot at us? Keep moving, take evasive maneuvers. And _Zheltorotik, _find me another target and shoot it!"

The Soviet officer heard the American sniper's voice in his headset.

_"Rhino Two-Two, are you alright? Looks like your last victim tried to leave a going away present."_

Vasya shrugged.

"Yes, but it was a glancing hit, by the sound of it. See if you can spot any superficial damage."

There was a pause, then the officer heard Lugo laugh through the static.

_"It's worse than that, Comrade. Looks like they hit you at point blank range with a solid hit, and all it did was scratch the paint."_

In spite of it, Vasya smiled to himself. It meant that the enemy's firepower was insufficient, if even a direct hit wouldn't damage them.

"It's good to know, Rhino Two-One. Still be careful, the T-55 like any tank is most vulnerable in its treads and its arse, so keep that in mind."

* * *

><p>Forbes stared as the two Soviet tanks made mincemeat out of the front-running Reconquista tanks. He saw one fire at almost point blank range into the T-55 closest to his position, and they may as well have been throwing tennis balls at the Soviet tank for all the effect it had. He knew that the enemy tanks were primitive in comparison, in truth they reminded him of the old British 'Male' Mark I tanks from WWI, but the sheer ineffectiveness of their armor and weaponry shocked the sergeant. The sergeant spoke into his radio.<p>

"Bravo Six-Two, this is the Trench, do you have a visual on enemy armor?"

Alex's voice responded almost immediately.

_"Roger that, Forbes, I have a visual on one that just emerged from the smog."_

Forbes checked and sure enough there was a lone tank that was rumbling into view head-on. He spoke into his radio again.

"Bravo Six-Two try to engage enemy armor with your Mark 211 AP rounds. Let's see how thick their front armor is."

_"Roger that, stand by."_

He heard a shot ring out, and suddenly the Reconquista tank in front of him jarred to a halt, and what sounded like a muffled explosion came from its innards as steam belched out of every crevice. He heard Alex speak up through the static of his radio.

_"Scored a direct hit, looks like their armor is pretty weak up front, and by the look of it I cooked off their boiler."_

Through the explosions Forbes thought he could hear the screams of the crew members and shuddered. Unwanted memories of the Gate Massacre back in Dubai came rushing back to the staff sergeant. After that, the thought of anyone, even the enemy, being burned alive caused Forbes to gag. His thoughts were interrupted by hearing the private chuckle in his radio.

_"By the sound of it those bastards got cooked. Anybody order boiled Reconquista, well done?"_

With that perspective in mind the young sniper's calloused humor didn't sit well with Forbes. He shook his head, wondering why he was even thinking this line of thought. These assholes were the enemy, plain and simple. If Reconquista defeated the 33rd, then Brugues would fall, and judging what Crosby had told him about the Tarpes massacre, the enemy wouldn't show mercy to the civilians. SSG Josh Forbes pushed the thoughts away and spoke into his radio.

"All units with heavy artillery, aim for their fronts, their front armor is weak and the boiler is up front!"

* * *

><p>From the massive wooden dreadnought, Von Wittmann looks up from his spyglass and handed it back at Sir Rich, giving the Albionian noble a devil's smile. It made Sir Rich's blood run cold as he stared through the eyepiece. Through the haze of the battle he could see the two green enemy tanks engaging the Reconquista armored units. Judging by what he saw it was a one-sided battle, their own tanks outnumbered the Outworlder's, and yet they seemed outclassed.<p>

Even the heavy six-pounders had no chance against the enemy armor. Sir Rich shuddered. In hindsight it wasn't overkill to have this crazy Germanian war criminal tag along, if not for his secret weapon, it would have been as one-sided as Lord Konrad had promised. His thoughts were interrupted by Von Wittmann's voice, tingled with wicked glee.

"They took the bait."

He gave Sir Rich another evil smile.

"I suppose it's time I made my grand entrance."

Sir Rich lowered his spyglass and nodded over to a couple of menials.

"Make ready to release our secret weapon!"

_(AN: Uh-oh, why do I have the feeling that Von Wittmann has a nasty surprise in store for the Damned 33rd? _

_Maybe because I'm writing it, Mwah-hah-hah! *cue evil laughter*_

_Ahem._

_So, in keeping with the SO:TL theme you won't have to wait long for the cruel and terrible twists and turns to happen and reinforce the message that War Is Hell. So stay tuned, next chapter shouldn't take as long...)_


	138. Come Back With Your Shield or On It

_(AN: So this took longer than expected, work has been in overdrive and I've encountered a serious case of writer's cramp. To relieve it I've written some future chapters, which doesn't help right now, but at least it got me motivated to finish this chapter off. For this chapter I'd recommend Spec Ops: The Line OST The Battle or No Values, for reasons that will become apparent soon. Enjoy!)_

"Incoming!"

Soldiers ducked as another shell from a Reconquista tank hit the trench. When they figured out that they could not damage the T-55's the enemy tanks started shelling the Sharpshooter infantry, this time with more success.

"Bravo Six-Two I have another tank on my poz, take him the fuck out!"

_"Roger that, stand by."_

There was another loud crack as Alex's M99 fired, and the shelling stopped. Crosby peered out of cover to see the enemy tank stopped, with steam belching out of its viewing slits. Even now he was having a hard time feeling sorry for the enemy. As if to punctuate Crosby's thoughts speakers popped up above the enemy soldiers and the Radioman taunted them, as 60's rock blared from the speakers.

_"Holy Boiled Lobster Batman! Whatever genius came up with the idea of a steampunk tank with a boiler up front got rocks in his head! Unless you cunning plan is to use the scalding steam as a fog of war, heh-heh-heh! Here's one from the vaults and sure to be a crowd-pleaser for my buddies in the Damned 33rd!"_

_"I got a certan little girl she's on my mind_

_No doubt about it she looks so fine_

_She's the best girl that I ever had_

_Sometimes she's gonna make me feel so bad..."_

Crosby's radio crackled as the commander of Rhino Two-One spoke up.

_"Sarge, lemme go on record and say this shit just got weird...I just got a serious case of déjà vu..."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head and chuckled.

"Nevermind that, Lugo. If you're through playing around do you mind taking these tanks out? They're kind of crowding us..."

He heard Lugo chuckle.

_"No can do, Sarge! I'm kinda got my hands full with these four tanks...Ask Comrade Boris Badinov if he can kill Mvoose and Sqvirrel for you..."_

Vasya's voice came through, and he thought he heard the Russian chuckling.

_"Not funny the first time you told joke, Rhino Two-One. Comrade Sergeant Crosby, like Lugo am a little busy right now, stand by..."_

He heard a loud clang over the radio, followed by the Soviet officer cursing in Russian.

* * *

><p>"<em>Blya<em>! _Ponchik_ I told you to keep this tank moving!"

Vasya wiped something sticky from his forehead. He had been sighting in an enemy tank when the round hit, and the impact knocked his head against the command periscope's eyepiece. As he glanced down at his hands he saw they were dark red. He cursed again.

"_Pribyom etu suku, blya_! Contact eleven o'clock, _Zheltorotik_, elevation twenty degrees range eighty meters and closing, FIRE!"

He felt the tank shake again as the main gun fired. He didn't even hear the spent shell hit the floor, as he saw the enemy tank explode spectacularly.

"_Ohuyenno_! Another hit, damn fine job, maybe I'll change your name from Yellowbeak to Sharpbeak!"

He was just then aware of the American sergeant speaking in his headset.

_"...repeating, Rhino Two-Two, are you alright, looks like that last one clipped you real good."_

Vasya peered through his scope and grinned.

"No damage Comrade Sergeant, I will clear the rest of these steam boilers out of your trench. Rhino Two-Two out."

Suddenly the view in his scope darkened. The Soviet officer frowned, this wasn't right. He scanned around and was having trouble seeing.

"Gunner, switch to IR viewing, I'm going up top to see what's happened to the sun."

Vasya reached up and opened the command hatch. Cautiously he poked his head out, but involuntarily looked up and saw exactly what was eclipsing the sun.

"_Bhoze moy...Chto eto za huynia_?"

* * *

><p>Von Wittmann unfastened his safety harness from the command throne, unharmed from the fall. He glanced about the interior of his secret weapon, during the construction of which he had named the <em>Großkampfwagen<em>. The name was Germanian for a massive juggernaut that fought in ancient times, but Von Wittmann had shortened it to K-Wagen.

He had recalled smirkingly at his former monarch Albrecht III's reaction when he showed the emperor of Germania his plans. Albrecht was a soft-headed fool who didn't realize the potential of having ironclad land-ships that could turn the tide of the battle, even going so far as to call them barbaric. But his new patron, King Jozef, saw the potential and gave him the gold and resources to bring his dreams to life.

"Sir! Casualty report, three crew-members injured or incapacitated by that fall we took."

The Germanian noble turned his attention to his adjunct, a small Gallian of questionable nobility.

"A pity, but we will be able to make due. Have you finished the systems check?"

"Yes, sir, the chief stoker reports that engine temperature and pressure are at optimal levels. All weapons are primed and ready."

Von Wittmann's scarred face contorted into a sneer, even though technically he was smiling.

"Good, then order the gunners to their stations and get me one of those infernal tanks in my crosshairs, is that understood?"

Anatole nodded.

"Understood, Commander!"

* * *

><p><em>"Holy fuck Crosby! What the hell is that?!"<em>

The Zulu Squad sergeant squinted against the bright sun. Whatever it was, it was massive, being held aloft by two very large dragons, as powerful as the creatures were they were still straining to keep the box-like construct aloft. He looked off to the side and saw Forbes, Saito and Kirche approach, then looked back up. The box was almost right on top of them, and it was then that Crosby gleaned the enemy's intentions.

"Evacuate the trench! Everyone retreat, that thing's going to be crashing down on top of us!"

Crosby pulled himself out of the trench and rolled away, he saw SSG Forbes pulling the redheaded mage out, then less gently pulled Saito out and tossed him. The Tokyo teen's fall was cushioned by Kirche, but neither her no Saito seemed to mind. Before Crosby could react, the straps holding the boxlike construct snapped, and the massive shape impacted onto the trench with a deafening crash. The impact kicked up a choking cloud of dust, so all the trench's survivors were momentarily blinded. Crosby coughed as he tried to raise the friendly tanks on the radio.

"Rhino Two-One, Rhino Two-Two, *cough!* do you have eyes on new contact?"

There was only static that answered him, but then a large shape emerged from the dust cloud, and the sight froze the normally hardened Zulu Squad sergeant's blood. It was a tank, but only in the sense of it being propelled by tracks, it's armored form covered in plate armor reminded Crosby more of the experimental land-ships from early to mid-20th century wars. The supertank also bristled with guns that were larger and probably far more powerful than the Mark I Reconquista tanks they had been engaging. It was then that he saw one of the sponson guns track towards his position.

"Oh crap."

He threw himself down.

"Incoming! Take cover!"

There was a loud BOOM! as the cannon fired, and the ground were Crosby had been standing erupted in a shower of dust, rocks and shrapnel. He glanced over and saw that Kirche was the closest to him.

"Big Red, fire a grenade!"

Kirche's normally confident demeanor was shattered as her hazel eyes widened in terror at the sight of the supertank.

"F-fire?! At that armored leviathan? Where?!"

But before Crosby could respond there was an explosion on the other side of the tank. The Zulu Squad sergeant looked over and saw one of the T-55's emerging from the dust cloud. Alas, his elation was short-lived.

* * *

><p>Vasya stared in disbelieve through the command periscope.<p>

"Blya! Not even a scratch?! How is that possible?"

This time Malicorne didn't need his usual urging, Vasya felt the jarring lurch as the T-55 retreated in reverse. He peered back into the scope and saw a puff of smoke from one of the supertank's sponson guns.

"Incoming! Evasive maneuvers, _Ponchik_!"

He saw the ground erupt not five meters behind them and felt the shell fragments and rocks ping the turret. Vasya shook his head. If they didn't find a vulnerable spot soon they would all be sitting ducks.

Konrad massaged his temples and keyed his mic again.

"Say again, Iceman, say again did not copy your last..."

Crosby's voice came in faint through the static.

_"...repeating, Brave One Actual, this is Iceman commanding what's left of the Sharpshooter contingent! Trench has been overrun and survivors are pinned down by a large hostile supertank that is immune to our anti-tank weapons, requesting immediate covering fire, over!"_

Konrard squinted as he tried to make out shapes. The dust cloud kicked up by the supertank was such that anything around the trench was invisible. The colonel switched channels.

"Gun One, Gun Two, do you have a visual on the enemy supertank?"

Lt. Gordon responded almost immediately.

"Negative, Bravo One Actual, I can't see shit through that dust cloud. I could lob random shots, but it would put friendlies in the line of fire if I did."

Konrad sighed.

"Understood, keep your eyes peeled if that dust cloud dissipates. Bravo One Actual out."

He switched channels again.

"Big Ugly One, Bravo Zero, can you get eyes on this massive tank that's killing our boys?"

There was a long pause, so Konrad tried again.

"Um, Big Ugly One, Bravo Zero, do you copy?"

Again, a pause, but after several minutes Lt. McPherson responded. By the tension in his voice it sounded like he was in distress.

_"Ah, Bravo One Actual this is Bravo Zero, we...ah, that is Big Ugly One and myself are a bit busy right now..."_

_"SHIT! He's on my six! Get him off!"_

_"Stay frosty, Bravo Zero, I'm engaging with the MG...ah, Bravo One Actual this is Big Ugly One, we're currently __trying to avoid becoming dragon food, stand by."_

Konrad keyed his mic.

"Big Ugly One, this is Bravo One Actual, I know you're busy up there, but we have a large, heavily armored tank down here causing massive casualties. I need a realistic ETA to provide close ground support."

Bowles responded after a couple of minutes.

_"Figure ten to fifteen mikes, Bravo One Actual, these bastards are slippery."_

The colonel sighed.

"Understood Big Ugly One, keep Bravo Zero safe, then when you're done engaging aerial tangos find and engage that damned supertank."

He heard the normally stoic Zulu Squad sergeant break his cool over the radio.

_"Fuck me! With respect sir, we won't last five minutes down here! We don't have the heavy weapons to take it out!"_

Konrad pinched the bridge of his nose, he knew exactly how Crosby and his squad felt. They were caught between a rock and a hard place, and no real solution. He keyed his mic again.

"I understand your position sergeant, this is a shit sitch, make the best of it. Stay low and instruct Rhino Two-One and Rhino Two-Two to avoid engaging. We'll try to buy you some time up here. Bravo One Actual out."

* * *

><p>Forbes approached the Zulu Squad sergeant, hoping that backup was on the way.<p>

"Tell me good news Crosby."

Crosby shook his head.

"Backups not coming for at least ten to fifteen minutes."

"So what's good news?"

"That **was** the good news. Bad news is we're so screwed."

Forbes lowered his head, but then suddenly had an idea.

Hey, Crosby! That thing was distracted by our tanks and retaliated when fired upon. If both of them fired at once we may have a distraction we need."

Crosby shook his head.

"So what? We don't have anything that can hurt it."

Forbes smiled and reached into a large pouch on his belt, pulling several blocks of C4 and a timer.

"With respect, sar'ent, this will take it out."

The older sergeant looked back at the tank and then to Forbes.

"That's suicide, you'll have to get close enough to drop it into the cockpit or lob it in!"

Forbes smiled.

"Like I said, if it's firing at Rhino Two-One or Rhino Two-Two, then it won't notice us."

Crosby chuckled humorlessly.

"It's still a stupid idea."

The staff sergeant shrugged.

"Yeah, but right now it's the best one we've got."

He glanced around.

"I'll need three Sharpshooters to cover me."

Saito stepped forward.

"Sergeant Forbes, I volunteer to help you on this mission."

Forbes shook his head.

"That's a negative, specialist, I need you to help coordinate the retreat."

The teen frowned, and his eyes seemed to shimmer. That's the first time I've seen that on a guy, Forbes thought.

"With all due respect, you need the help you can get, I'm not a kid I can help."

He glanced over to Crosby, who gave a slight not. The staff sergeant looked back at the teen.

"Alright, Specialist Hiraga, you're with me. I'll need covering fire, but first we wait for the signal."

* * *

><p>Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin almost fell out of his command chair as he heard Sergeant Crosby's transmission.<p>

"_Pizdets_! Are you fucking insane, Yankee?!"

Crosby's voice came through his headset.

_"'Fraid not, Rhino Two-Two. I'm going to need you coordinate with Rhino Two-One and target the supertank, preferably firing in the same spot. That's going to provide Forbes with the distraction he needs to plant the explosives."_

"And you think that _Kozloyob_ is going to patiently sit there whilst your sergeant plants a bomb on his supertank? _Blya_! I don't know who to feel more sorry for, us or that poor shithead who has to get close to it."

_"Vasya, I wouldn't be asking this of you if there was another way. I need your help on this, comrade."_

"Ya, ya, don't worry about us, Comrade Sergeant, we'll do our part."

_"Roger that, and for what it's worth I appreciate it. How much time will you need?"_

Vasya check his watch.

"Give us thirty seconds, and we will be ready to fire."

_"Understood. Let me know when you're ready. Iceman out."_

The captain switched channels on his radio.

"Rhino Two-One this is Rhino Two-Two, do you copy?"

There was a pause, then he heard Lugo's voice.

_"This is Rhino Twvo-Von, how may I be of service, Comrade Captain?"_

The Soviet officer chuckled.

"You can start by dropping the horrible impression of Russian accent. Did you happen to overhear my conversation with Iceman?"

_"Roger that, and I never thought I'd say this, but I'm with you, it's a crazy stupid idea."_

Vasya shrugged.

"Does not matter, no other alternative, must try anyways."

He peered into his command periscope.

"Rhino Two-One, do you see the supertank's starboard aft sponson guns? I want you to target them, and when when I give the word, we will both fire on them at the same time."

_"Stand by...Alright I have a visual on the starboard aft guns, stand by for loading."_

Before Vasya could respond the earth exploded just to the left of his tank. He realized that his tank had stopped and he keyed the mic on his helmet.

"_Ponchik_! I didn't tell you to stop, keep this tank moving or seagulls will be feasting on little bits of you for breakfast tomorrow!"

He turned to the blond fop, still acting as the loader.

"_Stilyaga_, load another AP! _Zheltorotik_, target their starboard aft sponson guns, but don't fire until I say so!"

He cursed to himself as he pulled out a cigarette.

"_Blya_! I never thought I'd die at the hands of some Fascist driving a steam-powered K-Wagen..."

He lit his cigarette with hands that shook slightly, and took a deep drag. Immediately the nicotine flooded his system and calmed the Soviet officer's nerves. The cigarette's aroma added to the stink of diesel fuel and propellant. Vasya glanced over and saw that the blond fop had a round but hadn't loaded it yet. The officer extinguished his cigarette and barked into his radio mic.

"_Palvin_, what's the holdup! Get another round in the chamber!"

He saw Guiche's terrified face as he glanced down at the shell, he then spoke in a halting voice.

"C-Captain, what is this?"

"_Pizdets, blya_! What is so difficult about following orders!? I want another shell in the breach, preferable armor piercing!"

Guiche offered the shell, and for the first time Vasya got a look at it. The shell casing was the same, but it's nose a was misshapen bulbous form, and the tip was painted light blue.

"Y-You didn't instructed us about ..."

The fop lowered his head, waiting for an obligatory slap...but to his amazement, the Soviet officer didn't. Guich looked up to see Vasya was grinning as he read the odd lettering that were printed on the shell casing.

"Three-U-B-K-Four! And those fuckers from High Command doubted that we would ever need a shaped charge round! Load it this moment, _Stilyaga_!"

As Guiche pushed the round in the breach, Vasya spoke into his radio.

_"Lugo, if your loader hasn't already, find the shell that has the case markings 3UBK4, it should have a funny nose painted blue."_

After a moment the Delta sniper's voice came through.

_"Hey, lookie there! We found it, what's so special about it?"_

"Is shaped charge and will do more damage. Load it and let me know when you are in position."

He gestured for gunner to move aside.

"This shot is way off your league, requires an experienced hand!"

As the student slid aside, Vasya grabbed the control yoke and peered through the sights and muttering to himself.

"Come on, old Dinosaur, line me up with a shot..."

The interior of the tank groaned as the turret rotated 90 degrees. Finally the holographic sight lined up on the super-tank's sponson guns. He keyed his mic.

"Rhino Two-One, this is Rhino Two-Two, I have targeted the starboard aft guns, ready to fire."

Lugo's voice spoke up.

_"Roger that, this is Rhino Two-Two, I have the guns in my sights, ready to fire."_

Vasya paused for a moment and took a breath. He exhaled as he spoke.

"Stand by for my mark..."

He then pushed the firing stud.

"FIRE!"

The tank shuddered and the cabin was once again filled with the familiar stink of cordite, followed by the loud Clang! of the spent shell hitting the floor. For a moment Vasya stared through the gunner's sights.

"Come on, come on..." Vasya breathed, willing the shell to hit home.

A millisecond later the shell hit, and he was rewarded with the sight of a massive explosion on the supertank's side, followed by secondary explosion as the other shell impacted. The Soviet officer smiled to himself as he watched the chain reaction of explosions as the tank's ammo cooked off.

"_Poluchi fascist granatu_! All units this is Rhino Two-Two, heavy tank's starboard guns are disabled, possible mechanical damage."

He heard Crosby's voice through the static.

_"Helluva shot there Comrade Captain. Be advised demo team is going in. Suggest you put some distance between you and the supertank. When it blows it's going to be epic."_

"Understood."

He glanced over to Malicorne.

"_Ponchik_, get us out of here, that big tank is about to go kaboom."

* * *

><p>Inside the K-Wagen it was pure hell. The surviving crewmembers were busy putting out the secondary fires. Von Wittmann opened one of the side hatches to let in some fresh air and retched. Those damned Outworlders! How could they have been so accurate as to target the exact same spot, and with some sort of powerful weapon that actually hurt his mighty K-Wagen! It was unthinkable.<p>

He glanced back to survey the damage. There was a gaping hole where the rear sponson guns were, and his lead stoker had yet to give him a report on the condition of the boiler. He felt his adjunct Anatole tap him on the shoulder.

"Sir, both rear starboard guns are inoperable. We have suffered four casualties from that last hit, two of them fatal. The lead stoker tells me that the boiler suffered superficial damage and recommends we don't push the tank past cruising speeds."

Von Wittmann cursed again.

"Anything else?"

Anatole gulped nervously.

"The driver has told me that the starboard steering mechanism is damaged, it is recommended that we do not make any turns until it is fixed."

The Germanian noble glared at his adjunct, and grabbed him by the neck.

"And how do you suppose we are to destroy those stupid impudent Outworlders? By bad language?!"

Anatole struggled in the larger man's grip.

"B-but sir! W-we should withdraw and make repairs, it is the logical thing to do!"

Von Wittmann snapped the smaller man's neck without a second thought, and watched emotionlessly as his adjuncts lifeless body crumbled to the floor. He saw one of the crewmembers staring at the body in abject horror, and he barked hoarsely at him.

"You there! Quit lollygagging and tell the lead stoker I want 110 percent power from the boiler, and I want it now. Then tell the driver to prepare to make a hard right turn."

He glared through the armored slits at the two retreating Outworlder tanks.

"I will get you for that insult, Outworlders, and I will see you fry in your own shells for your arrogance!"

* * *

><p><em>Glossary:<em>

_Pribyom etu suku: _lit. 'Let's smash that bitch'.

_Ohuyenno: _lit. 'fucking great!' Unlike _Zayebis'_, this has a positive connotation.

_Chto eto za huynia: _lit. 'What the Hell is that'.

_Kozloyob:_ Means stupid person. In the Afghan theater it took on a un-PC meaning as it was used as a slur against the locals.

_Poluchi fascist granatu: _lit. 'eat a grenade, fascist'. It was an improvised battlecry of Soviet soldiers during WWII.

_(AN: Anybody else think that Kaltenbru-I mean Von Wittmann is a bad boss? Not to mention the fact that if he read Moby Dick he'd probably think that Ahab's mistake was taking took long to chase down the white whale._

_*ahem*_

_Anyways, hope you enjoyed it, and I'd like to thank trainalf for beta'ing this chapter and biohazard115 for his help on Soviet tank tech. And I'm really sorry about how long this chapter took. Work, life and other extenuating circs have made it impossible to write, but hopefully the next few chapters should be coming along shortly.)_


	139. Come Back With Your Shield or On It (II)

(AN:_ So, here's the next chapter, yay! But, some did question how a gigantic supertank leviathan that probably weights 100+ tons could possibly be powered by steam, so another handwave is called for..._

_*There is the same stage, illuminated by a single spotlight. Captain Handwaver, resplendent in his dress Army uniform, pulls out a cue card from his pocket and speaks up._

_"This particular handwave addresses how a massive 100+ ton super tank which is supposedly powered by a steam engine could move under it's own power. The explanation includes but not limited to, Windstones, Firestones, Earthstones and/or Panzerstones...and of course, a gratuitous amount of handwaving."_

_*here he pauses and gives a small Queen Elizabeth II wave._

_"Although this is really getting ridiculous...steampunk tanks, Soviet hardware, what's next?"_

_*His rant is cut short by a short cough, he looks over and sees an Alsatian with a brown and black fur coat sitting there staring at him._

_"Well? What do you want?"_

_*The dog speaks up in a cultured British voice._

_"Excuse me, Captain Handwaver. I apologize for the intrusion, but my Master requires a bartender for his soiree with Captain Pelayo."_

_*The captain gives an exasperated snort._

_"Of all the- why can't you bloody well do it?"_

_"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid it's my day off. I planned on taking in the works of Spinoza. If you don't mind, when you're finished with your handwaving duties please report to my Master."_

_*Captain Handwaver makes a wry face._

_"Oh, this takes the mottled oyster, this does. Playing butler to an Omnipotent All-Powerful God who has the attention span of a gnat, the temperament of a primary schooler and the sophistication of a potty. To say nothing of taking orders from a bloody dog."_

_*Barnaby gives a light cough._

_"Am I to understand that taking orders from a dog rankles you, sir?"_

_"Yes, it bloody well does! And it's nothing against you, it's just, well, I'm a human, and well, you're a dog."_

_*Rather than being insulted, the dog perks up._

_"Ah, I understand, sir. You don't like having someone that is lower on the evolutionary chain claiming dominion over you, is that correct?"_

_"That's hits the nail on the proverbial head, Barabbas-"_

_"Ahem, it's Barnaby, sir."_

_"Yes, whatever. You see, if you were a human, then I would have less of a problem with it, you see?"_

_*if it were possible, the dog smiled._

_"As a matter of fact, I do, sir. That is something I can readily rectify."_

_*before Captain Handwaver can respond, the dog raises his forepaw and snaps his fingers. In a puff of smoke the captain disappears, and in his place is a border collie with black and white fur, wearing a olive green bandana. The dog looks down at himself and speaks in Captain Handwaver's voice._

_"Oh shit. I believe the phrase rhymes with 'Clucking Bell'."_

_*Ahem*_

_Yes. So...I had hoped that this chapter would have been submitted sooner, but once again life got in the way. Irritating and inescapable, like allergies and the VAT. I am hopeful that the subsequent chapters will take less time, but I'm not holding out much hope. At least it's a nice big fat chapter and you can be assured that the chapters will come, albeit a bit slower than in the past. Also, if you see the icon *BGM - 'X' this is the background music I was envisioning for the scene, although it's not necessary._

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>(1,000 feet over the Battle for Brugues) *BGM: No Values, SO:TL<strong>

McPherson jerked the cyclic to pull the Black Hawk into a tight stall and snarled into his mic.

"Dammit Big Ugly get these fuckers off me! I'm getting hammered here!"

He winced as Bravo Zero was buffeted by another blast. Over the din of chopper's engines and blades cutting through the air the lieutenant could hear the Sharshooter firing the minigun, and spared a glanced over this shoulder.

One of the large dragons was trying to get closer to Bravo Zero's starboard side, and McPherson saw the tracers light up as the rounds peppered the dragon's scaly hide. Unfortunately all it did was make the beast angrier, as it roared and snapped at the Black Hawk. Suddenly larger rounds detonated on the dragon's spine and back, accomanied by small bursts of blood. Then something detonated on the dragon's flank, taking out most of its wing in the process, and it fell, spiraling to the ground. McPherson breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's one of them! Any idea where Brown-and-Scaly's brother went?"

Bowles chuckled to himself in spite of the sitch. Both he and McPherson, callsign Bravo Zero, knew bad shit was going down when they saw the two large dragons carrying the supertank. What he didn't count on was the same large dragons after delivering their dangerous cargo going after the two helicopters.

Quickly he checked his mirrors. Later models of the Mil Mi-24 Hind were retrofitted with rear view mirrors so the pilot could spot any threats coming from behind. Seeing no dragons, he glanced down at the battlefield, which was mostly obscured by dust. He hoped that Crosby and the others were alright, that big supertank looked like it meant business. As if on queue, Bowles saw a large explosion erupt on the battlefield. He looked back up to the Black Hawk that was in his viewscreen.

"Negative, Bravo Zero, no sign of `im."

Something buffeted the Mi-24 Hind's armored hull, and at first Bowles thought it was turbulence. Then the Soviet gunship's airframe shook again, and Bowles checked his mirrors again. This time Bowles knew who the culprit was.

"...Well, good news and bad news, Bravo Zero. Good news is, I think I found the other dragon..."

McPherson's voice came through on the static.

_"Roger that, and the bad news?"_

"Bad news is it's set its sights on Big Ugly, looks like it's on my six but I can't get an exact fix. Can you get a visual on it?"

"Stand by...ah Big Ugly One, that dragon is slightly over you and off to your port side. Do you need assist?"

Bowles smiled.

"Negative, I think it's time I tried out one of these AT-6 Spirals."

He switched channels on his radio.

"That means you're up, Radioman."

Darden's voice came through the static.

_"Wait, what? You want me to shoot what?"_

"You're my gunner, which means you do more than play cheesy music and snarky comments. Don't worry, Darden, it'll be a cakewalk, I promise. In the meantime, hold onto your lunch, we're going up."

There was a slight pause before Bowles' gunner responded.

_"Ah, Bowles, just what do you mean by 'up'?"_

The lieutenant grinned.

"Just answer me this, Darden. Did you ever get sick on rollercoasters as a kid?"

He heard the Radioman scoff.

_"Hah! Hell no! That was like the highlight of my day! I once even rode in the copilot's seat of an F-14, the bastard tried everything to get me to puke, but I disappointed him!"_

Bowles nodded.

"Good to know."

With that he pulled up on the collective and simultaneously jerked back on the cyclic. The Hind reared up into a steep ninety degree bank, and as Bowles fought to keep the gunship from going into a stall he heard Darden's panicked voice.

_"Oh Shit! OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT! Ah, Bowles ol' buddy, `member when I said I wasn't scared of that stuff? I WAS JUST KIDDING!"_

The lieutenant smiled to himself but didn't respond, the controls required all of his attention and training. He fought the urge to black out as they approached 3g's, then the horizon reversed itself as the Hind was upside down. Bowles was fighting to keep his own lunch down as he pushed forward on the cyclic, his eyes checked the control panel as the needles on the gauges were creeping dangerously towards the red. Finally with a stomach-churning lurch, the Hind completed its bank, and the dragon's tail was in view.

Bowles keyed his mic.

"Alright, Darden, it's showtime. First thing I need you to do is arm the Spirals. Should be a toggle switch to your right."

Darden flipped the switch on a control panel to his right.

"Okay, got it. What next?"

The lieutenant's voice continued.

"Below that control panel and to the left is a viewfinder with a headrest, that's where you sight it in. To the right of it is a control yoke that will help you zero in on the target."

The Radioman leaned in, and saw a circle with a targeting reticule, which helpfully gave him the range of the dragon in meters.

"Okay, got the bastard sighted, what next?"

"Use the yoke to zero in on the dragon, make sure you target its center of mass. When you get a target lock, the control panel above will light up and let you know, then pop the safety caps on either handle of the yoke and push the button."

Darden nodded and used the yoke to line up the target.

"Spirals armed...acquiring target...Come a bit more left."

Bowles nudged the cyclic slightly. Darden peered into the viewfinder, and the crosshairs centered on the dragon.

He heard a _beep!_ and looked up. One of the upper right hand lights with the words _РАЗРЕШ. ПУСК_ blinked bright red.

"Target locked!"

Bowles' voice came through again.

"Okay, Darden, this is important. After you've deployed the rocket it's imperative you keep the target lock on that dragon so the gunship's targeting array can keep the missile on course, okay?"

Darden smiled.

"No worries, man! I got this!"

He popped open the cover on the firing stud and pushed the button.

"Fox Three away!"

The entire Hind shuddered as the AT-6 Spiral deployed from its pod. The primary stage booster fired and small fins deployed as the Hind's targeting system communicated with the rocket via VHF.

The Radioman held his breath as he maintained target lock as the missile streaked towards the dragon. He continued holding his breath until the missile connected and detonated on the dragon's armored back. There was a massive explosion, and he was jerked to the side as Bowles pulled the Hind away to avoid being hit by shrapnel and dragon bits. Not to be outdone, the Radioman threw in his oar by keying the mic to his radio broadcasting equipment.

_"Hey! Did anyone order Kentucky Fried Dragon, extra crispy? Now we know that no matter how big the dragon he's still no match for good ol' 20th century anti-tank missiles! Look out below, it's raining dragon!"_

Bowles smiled.

"That's the last of them, Bravo Zero, now let's go take out that supertank!"

He switched channels on his radio about to relay his intentions to Konrad, when a massive explosion blossomed on the ground.

"Oh, shit! That doesn't look good! Bravo Zero, do you have eyes on what caused that explosion?"

_"Negative, Big Ugly One, I can't tell if it's one of ours or one of theirs..."_

The lieutenant glanced down at the battle on the ground and fervently hoped his buddies were okay.

* * *

><p>Forbes glances up from cover. The massive supertank just took a direct hit from both T-55's, and judging by the size of the explosion it must have been a crippling hit. He glanced over to the three Sharpshooters and Saito.<p>

"That's our signal, move!"

The squad fell in behind Forbes as he crawled towards the massive tank. Incredibly the supertank was still moving, along by the grinding noise it was making it sounded like something was damaged in the drive train. Forbes took cover behind a large boulder that was just off the path of the tank. He pulled up his satchel charge.

"Alright, people, here's how it's going to go down..."

He pointed to Saito.

"The specialist and I are going to mount that tank. Saito, your job is to cover me while I arm the bomb. Then I'll blow open one of the hatches with a grenade, toss the satchel charge in, and we split.

He pointed to the Sharpshooters.

"You three provide covering fire if any of the crew show up."

Forbes checked his watch.

"I want us to be in and out in three minutes, tops. I'm going to set the timer for five minutes, that should give us plenty of time to get clear. And this doesn't look like a bomb but even if these primitive screw-heads know what it is they won't be able to disarm it."

Saito spoke up.

"But what if they destroy the timer?"

Forbes opened a side panel on the detonator/timer and pointed to a purple wire.

"I've rigged this so if the timer is destroyed it shorts out this wire, which runs to the detonator and will set off the blasting caps, causing the bomb to go off."

He noticed the Sharpshooters exchanging nervous looks.

"Hopefully we'll be far way when it cooks off."

The staff sergeant looked up and saw the supertank getting close.

"Alright, look alive boys."

He readied his M4.

"Specialist, on me!"

* * *

><p>Forbes sprang from cover and ran to the tank's side, to a corner which was in the sponson cannon's blind spot. Forbes took a moment to glance up. If the tank looked big from a distance, it was gigantic in person; the armored flanks had to be at least twelve feet tall, and had to be the length of a boxcar. He heard someone huff behind him and saw Saito had also taken cover, who gave the sergeant a thumbs up.<p>

The sergeant looked up and down the length of the massive tank, then saw a set of metal rungs that went vertically up the side of the tank. He shouldered his rifle and motioned for the specialist to follow. Carefully Forbes climbed up the ladder, keeping an eye on the forward sponson cannon which was right beside them. From what he could see there was an armored viewing slit just above the breech, which was doubtlessly where the gunner was looking for targets.

Suddenly the cannon creaked into motion, moving off to the side. On impulse Forbes glanced back, and saw one of his Sharpshooters was out of cover. He tried to signal the Tristainian soldier to get down, but then there the entire tank shook as the cannon fired. Forbes clung to the metal rung and barely was able to hang on. He looked down and saw that Saito was also struggling to stay on. The sergeant looked back and saw the ground erupt around the area the Sharpshooters were taking cover in. His stomach lurched as he saw a body flung into the air by the blast, and fall lifelessly to the ground amid the falling clods of dirt and rocks.

Then Forbes heard what he thought was laughter, and frowned. He looked down and motioned Saito to climb up past him, which the specialist did. Saito pulled himself onto the top of the tank's hull, and looked back down at Forbes. The sergeant hadn't moved, but reached into his assault vest and pulled out a round frag grenade. He gestured with it, and Saito understood. The Tokyo teen turned and covered his ears and Forbes pulled the pin, and quickly shoved the grenade into the cannon's open barrel. The sergeant quickly scrambled up the ladder and flung himself onto the hull, not seconds before a deafening explosion blew the sponson turret outwards.

Forbes looked over to Saito and gave the kid a thumbs-up, but they were not out of the clear yet. A hatch near the sergeant opened with smoke pouring out of it, and it revealed the tall stature of Von Wittman. Two other hatches opened up, and Saito saw four crewmembers and a burly man stripped to his waist pull themselves up. Two of the crewmembers that were closest saw Saito, they let out a loud shout and charged at the teen while brandishing their large tools as clubs. Instinctively Saito raised his AKMS and fired off a burst.

It was then that Von Wittmann noticed the two intruders on the hull of his K-Wagen. His scarred features twisted into a scowl.

"So, they're the ones responsible for disabling the turret just now."

He started to pull his pistol out of its holster, intending just to shoot them, but a sweaty meaty hand placed itself on his forearm. The _Oberst_ looked up and saw the large boilerman grinning at him.

"Let me at those two, _mon colonel_, I will make sport of their deaths...a little game, if you will, for ruining this tank."

Von Wittmann looked over to the older Outworlder with the shaved head and smiled.

"Yes. Go and kill that one first, then wring the boy's neck!"

* * *

><p><strong>*BGM: In the Belly of the Steel Beast, Last Crusade<strong>

SSG Forbes struggled with the satchel charge, he still had to set the timer. But for the moment he had to deal with two of the tank's crew, plus a large burly man covered in soot that must have been in charge of the boiler. He raised his rifle, and fired two shots on rapid succession. One crewmember went down, the other charged him. Forbes was able to get off another shot and it connected, but it didn't arrest the man's momentum. The mortally wounded man collided with Forbes, sending his rifle and the satchel charge flying.

Quickly Forbes pushed the dying man off of him, even as he tried to reach up and throttle the sergeant with bloodied fingers. The 33rd soldier pulled himself up, and with his boot pushed the bleeding crewmember away. Then he felt something choke off his air supply, and he reached up. The burly man had snuck up behind Forbes while he was grabbling with the other man, and was trying to garrote him with a length of chain. The sergeant struggled, but the boilerman was more muscular than him. He reached down and pulled his M9 from the thigh rig holster. He couldn't shoot the man in the chest or head, otherwise he risked shooting himself, but there were more vulnerable points besides the head and chest. Forbes pointed his pistol down and pressed the barrel against the man's kneecap, and pulled the trigger.

The effect was instant, the boilerman howled in pain and let go of Forbes to grasp his bleeding knee. Forbes pitched forward, gasping and coughing as his strained lungs struggled to refill themselves with air. He saw a large metal pick off to the side, and grabbed it. He saw that the boilerman had slumped down still clutching his bleeding leg, and decided to spring into action.

Forbes used the long wooden handle of the pickaxe as a bludgeon and whipped it around. The hard wood connected with the boilerman's temple, sending the man tumbling to the ground on his back. In an instant Forbes was on top of the man, and flipped it around, raising the sharp end of the pickaxe. Bloodied, the crewmember's eyes widened with horror and he threw up his hands in terror.

"NOOO! Please mercy!"

Forbes froze as his the sun glared off the crewmember's goggles, and he was temporarily blinded by a bright light.

Then he was back in Dubai, at Checkpoint Charlie, with SGT Norris' wild eyes staring back up at him.

"Forbes, what the fuck are you doing here?!"

Another soldier, wearing a white bandanna across his face and sporting a red cross on his helmet shouted over to Norris.

"He's one of them, sarge! Frag `im!"

The medic sneered at Forbes.

"You're one of those fuckers following Pilton's orders, arntcha?!"

Forbes found himself shaking his head.

"No...it can't be..."

He looked down at Norris, who was staring dumbfoundedly at he erstwhile fellow NCO. Then Forbes heard a thump beside him, PVT Davis had just zip-lined down as well. He watched as the sniper raised his rifle and shot the medic, grinning maniacally.

"You murderers!"

Norris's voice jerked the sergeant's eyes down. His friend was now glaring at him with an expression of pure hatred.

"You murdering fuckers! Who kills a medic?!"

Mechanically Forbes raised his rifle, poised to bring the butt down full force onto Norris-

Someone heavy connected with the side of his head, and it jolted Forbes back to his senses. The sunlight was bright, and he shook the cobwebs out of his head. The crewmember was brandishing some sort of wrench, and grinning at him.

"I should thank you for sparing my life, Outworlder, allow me to return the favor by killing you!"

He lunged at Forbes, and swung the heavy wrench down, but it never connected. A massive explosion blew the boilerman off his feet and sent him flying off the hull of the supertank. Forbes looked up and saw a large blue dragon flapping its wings. Standing on it's back was a small pink-haired girl, her wand still raised. He heard Saito cry out.

"Louise!? What are you doing here?"

The pinkette jumped off of Sylphid's back and landed lightly on the supertank's hull.

"Idiot! I'm here to help your mission!"

Unbeknownst to either to Forbes or the pinkette her explosive Void spell had tipped the satchel over and it fell into the open hatch. It landed hard on the riveted floor of the K-Wagen's cabin, and in the smoky darkness none of the remaining crew noticed it. The impact opened the flap of the satchel, and in the darkness a four digit red LED readout winked on, with the digits 05:00 showing. Then a second later, it showed 04:59, then 04:58...

* * *

><p>Von Wittmann pulled himself up, still dazed by the explosion and glared at the little pink-haired girl. Her eyes widened in fright, and she tried to run away, but the large Germanian was too quick, he grabbed the girl by her elbow and pulled her close.<p>

"Where do you think you're going, you little Tristainian brat?"

Louise struggled in the large man's grip, but she couldn't move. The man's scarred face contorted as he leered at her.

"You tried to kill me, I will make you pay! But first, I will have some fun with you, Fraulein!"

He glanced down and fondled the pinkette roughly.

"It's a shame you're so flat-chested, but no matter..."

Von Wittmann didn't see the death glare Louise was giving him, nor did he anticipate the pinkette's next move. Her foot lashed out as she screeched at the _Oberst._

"HOW DARE YOU CALL ME FLAT-CHESTED YOU FILTHY GERMANIAN!"

Her foot connected, and Von Wittmann felt a sharp stinging pain emanating from his groin. Involuntarily he let go of Louise, and groaned, clutching his crotch. Louise drew her wand, and tried to follow up with a spell, but quick as lightening she was stopped. The _Oberst_ glared at the pinkette as he pulled himself up, still massaging his sore crotch with a free hand.

"You little bitch!"

He backhanded her and sent the pinkette reeling against one of the open gunner hatches. Louise looked up in fear as the large man bore down on her.

"I'll skin you alive for that!"

"Hey! Scarface!"

Von Wittmann turned around and looked back at the source of the new voice. All he saw was a fist coming at him, it connected on the side of his face. The _Oberst_ staggered back, and instantly Saito tackled the larger man to the ground. The teen's system was flooded with adrenaline, and he threw punch after punch on the enemy commander.

"DON'T…"

Saito punched Von Wittmann in the nose, breaking it and sending a spray of blood, the cartilage crushed and bones broken.

"…TOUCH…"

The next blow hit the _Oberst_ in his left eye, leaving a bruise that swelled shut.

"…MY…"

Saito threw another punch at Von Wittmann's cheek, and he heard something crack under the blow.

"…GIRL!"

Furiously the teen cocked his right hand back to deliver the coup de grâce, but a massive gloved hand encased Saito's fist. The teen couldn't budge it, and looked down at see Von Wittmann looking up at him. The _Oberst_'s scarred face was a crisscrossed ruin of bruises, blood and a broken nose, and his left eye was swollen shut. But the Germanian still managed to leer at him, and his one good eye glinted.

"You have some fire in your belly, _Junge_. I'll give you that."

He licked some of the blood away from his cut lip, but before Saito could react the _Oberst_ lashed out with his free hand and backhanded the boy. The teen fell down beside the pinkette, who hadn't moved since she fell.

"Louise!"

Saito reached out to her, but he was stopped when he felt a colossal weight on the back of his neck. he twisted his head around to see a large boot pinning him down, and the burly Germanian grew his pistol.

"For your bravery and guts I'll give you and your brat girlfriend a quick death, which is more than any Tristainian deserves."

He cocked the hammer on his multi-barreled Segallas, and pointed it at Saito.

"_Auf Wiedersehen_, _kleiner Junge_..."

Von Wittmann's shot went wild, because someone tackled him from behind, sending both him and his attacker to the ground. Forbes pulled himself up and punched the larger man in the nose, eliciting a grunt of pain from Von Wittmann. With the _Oberst_ apparently dazed, the sergeant glanced up and saw Sylphid approaching, he then looked over to Saito.

"Specialist! Get the walking IED and yourself on that dragon!"

Saito pulled Louise to her feet and helped the pinkette along.

"But Sergeant Forbes, what about the bomb?"

Before Forbes respond, he was punched in the stomach. His PALS vest and ceramic insert absorbed most of the blow, but it still knocked the wind out of Forbes, and he staggered back. Von Wittmann rose from his position, his good eye was now blazing with fury.

"You meddling Outworlders! If not for your unholy technology we would have won this war!"

Forbes wheezed as he struggled to get air into his lungs, but he still smiled.

"Yeah, I know...must suck to be on the losing side!"

He threw another punch at Von Wittmann, but the larger man blocked it, and tried throwing a punch of his own. Forbes parried the blow, and grabbed the _Oberst_'s arm, attempting to put him in a half-Nelson. But the larger officer growled, braced one of his black jackboots against an open hatch and roughly shoved Forbes into one of the pintle-mounted cannons on the tank's hull. Pain shot through the sergeant's frame, he was sure that blow cracked some ribs, and he barely had enough time to block Von Wittmann's massive fist as the _Oberst_ threw a left haymaker.

Saito managed to pull the dazed pinkette to her feet, she was still woozy from the hit, but she didn't struggle as the teen dragged her to where Sylphid and Tabitha were waiting. As soon as Louise was safely on, Saito looked back, to his horror he saw that Forbes was getting pummeled by the large Germanian officer.

"Sergeant Forbes!"

The staff sergeant blinked back some blood that got into his eyes, Von Wittmann scored a glancing hit that resulted in a nasty gash above his right eyebrow. He saw Saito waiting by Sylphid, and he smiled. The kid would make a good soldier one day. He knew why the specialist hesitated, so he mouthed one word.

Go.

But the action wasn't lost on Von Wittmann, and he paused in his no holds barred beatdown of the Outworlder to turn around. He saw that the Tristainian brat and her boyfriend were escaping, he then understood why the Outworlder was taking so much punishment. He turned back and gave a polite smile to the sergeant, which his ravaged features twisted into an inhumanely cruel leer.

"That was very noble of you,_ Feldwebel_ Forbes. But it will spell your death!"

With that the _Oberst_ drew a wand and cast a terrible sounding spell. Instantly Forbes felt all of his muscles lock up, he couldn't move! All he could move were his eyes, and he flicked them up to see Von Wittmann approach, gloating.

"That spell is one of my favorites, it paralyzes the victim, but leaves them conscious. It is called 'And I Must Scream', although I admit this is the first time I have cast it in battle. Usually I reserve this spell for the chamber maids and scullery girls."

He paused to survey the battlefield. Most of the Reconquista Mark I tanks were destroyed, blazing away on the battlefield. A small number were still trying to engage the two Outworlder's tanks.

"This battle is surely over..." Von Wittmann thought out loud to himself.

It was true, even the fanatical bloodthirsty warrior in him had to give way to cold Germanian logic: the odds of Albion or Gallia taking Brugues were slim. The smaller, rational part of his mind consoled the _Oberst_ in that he had achieved his mission, and if nothing else he could use the K-Wagen to destroy the remnants of the Damned 33rd and their Tristainian allies. His musings were interrupted by a labored voice.

"You...still...lose...fucker!"

Von Wittmann stared down at the SSG Forbes, it amazed him that the Outworlder could resist his spell. He gave the sergeant an evil smile.

"You are strong, there is no doubt. But that will not save you, I will see you suffer for damaging my beloved K-Wagen."

He looked up at the blue dragon that was still hovering overhead.

"...And your friends will watch!"

With that he pointed his wand at Forbes and uttered another string of incantations. A massive force buffeted Forbes as the spell of Heavy Wind hit him and sent him flying. The sergeant was carried at least thirty feet into the air and landed roughly on the ground, tumbling head over heels before colliding with a felled tree stump.

Stars and black spots swam into Forbe's vision, and his head ached when he shook it, trying to get his bearings. He heard the snarl of gears grinding and an engine roaring and looked up. The massive supertank was bearing down on his position! Quickly Forbes tried to crawl away, but he couldn't move. He glanced down and saw that his right boot was stuck, caught in the roots of the stump!

* * *

><p>Saito watched in horror as the scene unfolded and leaned over to Tabitha.<p>

"You have to go back! Staff Sergeant Forbes is in danger!"

Louise tried to pull him back.

"NO! You can't go back! Y-you almost died on my account!"

Saito felt a trickle of perspiration run down his forehead, in spite of the rushing wind. The pinkette leaned in, her face flushed. Instinctively he leaned in as well, and their lips touched. The teen felt a wave of euphoria sweep over him. When Louise's eyes finally opened, they glittered with tears.

"I-I can't lose you again!"

Several bullets whizzed past, ruining the mood and puncuating what the pinkette said. For her part Tabitha shook her head sadly.

"Like Louise said: too dangerous."

But as she attempted to steer Sylphid away from the battlefield, the blue dragon reared up and roared in defiance as she turned her head to where Forbes had fallen. the K-Wagen was closing in, barely twenty feet lay between the sergeant and his impending demise. But Sylphid swooped down, dodging the incoming bullets and perched herself on the stump.

The blue dragon opened her mouth and let out a deafening roar. The sheer blast of the roar, which was also a Wind spell, caused the massive K-Wagen to grind to a lurching halt. It wouldn't be paralyzed for long, but a few seconds was all Sylphid needed as she upended the stump with one of her forepaws, freeing the soldier. With her other forepaw the dragon reached down and gently took Forbes in her claws.

Pulling the soldier close to her, Sylphid spread her wings and surged to the safety of the parapet.

* * *

><p>Von Wittmann watched helplessly as the blue dragon paralyzed his K-Wagen and freed his quarry. He raised his pistol and fired a shot, but it was no use, both the dragon and it's rider were out of range. Lividly he leaned into the open hatch and bellowed down into the darkness below.<p>

"You there! Why are we stopped! Get this tank moving or I'll disembowel the lot of you and use your guts to grease the K-Wagen's treads!"

One of the crew-members, whose face and bare chest was covered in soot looked up fearfully at the wrathful Germanian noble.

"B-but my lord! The boiler has suffered critical damage, it is unwise to-"

The rest of what the young man was saying was cut off by a loud bang, and the worker crumpled to the ground. Von Wittmann lowered his smoking Segallas pistol and tossed it, having fired the last shot. He pointed to another crewmember who was cowering in the corner.

"You, crew menial!"

The crewmember advanced timidly.

"Y-yes, my lord?"

"You will inform the boiler master that I want 110% power, I want this K-Wagen moving again, is that understood?"

"Y-Yes, my lord!"

Von Wittmann stood up from the hatch.

"Cursed idiots, why is good help so hard to come by?"

Unbeknownst to him or the crew-members below, the small satchel had wedged itself under the command chair of the K-Wagen, it's bright LED display still shining in the darkness of the cabin, still counting down the seconds: _01:02...01:01...01:00...00:59..._

* * *

><p>Forbes came to and felt wind rushing over his face. He opened his eyes and saw that he was on the back of Tabitha's familiar, Sylphid. He looked up and saw the parapet looming in the distance. Off to his right he heard Saito speak up.<p>

"Sergeant Forbes! You're alright!"

A sudden pain shot up through his right ankle and Forbes winced.

"At least I'm in one piece."

He glanced down at the battlefield.

"Any news from Crosby or Gordon?"

Saito held up his radio.

"I just got off the horn with Sergeant Crosby, he confirmed that he and Lt. Gordon evacuated the survivors from the trench and rendezvous'd with Colonel Konrad at the parapet."

Forbes nodded.

"What about Rhino Squad?"

Saito shook his head.

"No word, but we might be able to raise them on the main radio back at the parapet!"

Then Sylphid spread her wings and slowly descended down to the walls of the improvised fort. When the blue dragon set down, Saito hopped off, carrying an unconscious Louise, and then he and Tabitha helped Forbes climb off. But before Tabitha could dismiss her familiar, the dragon roared and then took off again, flying towards the massive supertank.

* * *

><p>Before Von Wittmann could answer his own rhetorical question, the Germanian noble heard a loud roar, and then the light of the late afternoon sun was blotted out. He looked up only to see a pair of blue taloned claws reaching for him. Von Wittmann raised his wand to fend off the dragon, but it was too late. Sylphid snatched the <em>Oberst<em> in her claws, and this time she was not so gentle.

The dragon spread her wings again and propelled herself into the air, a hundred feet up. The dragon looked down, and Von Wittmann struggled against the dragon's iron grip.

"Let me go!" He bellowed defiantly, "Let me go at once you filthy creature!"

Suddenly, the _Oberst_ thought he saw the creature bare its teeth at him, as if smiling. Then the talons loosened their grip, and Von Wittmann fell. He saw the ground rushing towards him, and a bone-jarring impact knocked him out.

Saito watched Sylphid's movements through field glasses borrowed from Crosby. Sylphid had snatched up the large Germanian officer in her claws and then dropped him from a great height. He looked over to Tabitha.

"What is your familiar doing?!"

He saw the blue bookworm push the glasses up the bridge of her nose and gave a light shrug.

"Revenge."

* * *

><p>Von Wittmann opened his eyes, and instinctively tried to move. It was a mistake, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his legs, and he looked down. Both of his legs were broken, his feet turned at unnatural angles, and a chipped bone tore through the left leg of his black breeches. Then he heard a loud roar and flinched.<p>

But it wasn't the dragon that roar, and his temporary relief turned to gut-wrenching horror as he turned to the sound's origin. The massive armored hull of the K-Wagen loomed over him, Von Wittmann was right in the path of his own tank! Desperately he tried to crawl away, clawing at the mud and clay as the treads of the supertank slowly closed in on him.

"You heard me! I said full stop!"

The last ranking officer in the K-Wagen glanced at the forward viewports. Their commander _Oberst_ Von Wittmann was stuck right in the tank's path, and the officer was trying desperately to stop the massive engine before it crushed the Germanian noble. One crewmember covered in soot approached.

"Sir! The controls are not responding, I think when we jarred ourselves free it damaged something!"

The officer grabbed the crewmember by the throat.

"IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS THING IT'S GOING TO CRUSH OUR COMMANDER!"

The crewmember had an idea.

"Sir! If we do an emergency purge of the boiler, it will let off all the steam and the engine will lose pressure."

The officer paused.

"That will stop it?"

The crewmember nodded.

"I'm sure of it!"

The officer regained his composure and let of of the crewmember's throat.

"Then make it so!"

The crewmember nodded, and made his way to the back of the tank where the boiler purge valves were. Before he got there, he tripped over something. Even though time was of the essence, he reached down and picked up the offending article. It was a box, with glowing numbers on it. It was odd, but the numbers were decreasing: _00:25...00:24...00:23..._

Von Wittmann clawed for purchase on the soft, boggy earth, but then he screamed as he felt excruciating pain in his right foot. He twisted his body around and saw that his foot had gotten caught in the tank's armored tracks. He opened his mouth again, but his screams and the sickening crunch of his bones being crushed were drowned out by the roar of the tank.

The crewmember was mesmerized by the magic box. He was oblivious to the officer's frantic shouts, and had even forgotten his mission as he stared at the magically disappearing numbers.

_00:04_

_00:03_

_00:02_

_00:01_

_00:00..._

When it reached zero, before the crewmember could react, the box gave a light _beep!_ Then the crewmember was no more, as the four bricks of C-4 detonated in sequence he and the officer and every other surviving crewmember was vaporized by the inital blast, and the subsequent fireball blew the K-Wagen's hull apart, sending pieces flying in all directions. The secondary explosions detonated the tank's boiler and ammuntion, which resembled a firework's display.

* * *

><p>Back at the parapet Forbes was still massaging his swollen ankle, when he felt something wet and rough rasp across the side of his head. He heard a purring noise and looked over to see Syphid looking at him intently. He gave the dragon and affectionate pat.<p>

"Thanks for saving my bacon, Sylphid, I owe you a bushel of apples when we get back to base."

The dragon purred again, and nuzzled the sergeant. It stopped only briefly as it was bopped on the head by a long wooden stave. Forbes looked back and saw Tabitha was the one holding the stave. She sighed.

"No disobeying!"

Forbes chuckled as he pulled himself up and made his way over to where Sgt. Crosby was. Saito was there too, looked nervously as the grim-faced Zulu Squad sergeant continued to speak into the radio.

"Say again, Rhino Two-Two, say again."

The Soviet officer's voice sounded strained even through the static.

_"Blya! Fire, you idiot, FIRE! Repeating, Rhino Two-Two reports that Rhino Two-One suffered damage at the hands of the fascist supertank, have been unable to raise on radio...Rhino Two-Two is currently engaging multiple hostiles, stand by..."_

Saito shook his head.

"It can't be! Sgt. Lugo is Delta Force, there's no way he bought the farm!"

Crosby and Gordon exchanged looks.

"Kid, look the T-55 is a pretty strong tank, but even it has vulnerabilities. All it takes it a single round and that's all she wrote."

He paused and spoke into his radio.

"Bravo Zero, this is Heavy Four, have you cleared up that dragon problem?"

McPherson's voice came through.

"Roger that, Heavy Four, we are ready to engage that tank now."

"Negative, Bravo Zero, change of plans. You are to go on a recon and rescue op, Rhino Two-One was damaged engaging the supertank, proceed to Rhino Two-Two's last known poz on a heading of Zero Three Zero. Big Ugly One, you are to provide close air support. If Lugo and co. are in trouble, get `em out of there."

"Roger that, we are inbound."

Suddenly there was an explosion in the distance, and all the soldiers on the parapet heard a distant clattering noise, followed by another explosion. Crosby turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Sir, that's an autocannon. Thirty mike-mike by the sound of it."

"So?"

"So, neither the T-55 nor any of our hardware is equipped with a 30mm autocannon. Only the AC-130 had that as part of its loadout."

He turned back to the horizon.

"That begs the question of what the hell is out there?"

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

_РАЗРЕШ. ПУСК_ (lit. "Launch Permit): An instrument on the Hind's fire control board indicating that the missile is ready to launch.

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUNNN! What indeed? A major thank you to biohazard115 for his input on the internal workings of Soviet gunships, and to Trainalf for helping beta this chapter._

_More suspense as we find out what happened to Lugo...and to those who asked yes I did borrow very heavily from certain movies (*COUGH!* IndianaJones *COUGH!*) but hopefully it did the scene justice. Next chapter we find out what happened to Lugo's tank, so stay tuned!)_


	140. Operation Iskra

_(AN: And here we go, another chapter! As an aside to any of the fellow writers here on FF, has anyone else noticed the visitor counter on the dashboard freeze, the dreaded 503 Server Error? No? If it's just me s'okay, I'm just curious..._

_With this new chapter prepare for more twists than a bag of Twizzlers! As an aside, kudos to the person who invented this delish American snack, a shame I can't find it here in Europe...[ps if they do sell them PM me and let me know where!] Yum! Like little twisty ropes of cherry strawberry goodness..._

_GET ON WITH IT!_

*ahem*

_So, this new chapter will continue with the whole 'War is Hell' bit that I touched on last chapter. Hope you enjoy!)_

* * *

><p>Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin grinned as he saw his shaped charge round hit home and spoke into his radio.<p>

"_Poluchi fascist granatu_! All units this is Rhino Two-Two, heavy tank's starboard guns are disabled, possible mechanical damage."

He then heard Crosby's voice through the static.

_"Helluva shot there Comrade Captain. Be advised demo team is going in. Suggest you put some distance between you and the supertank. When it blows it's going to be epic."_

"Understood."

He glanced over to Malicorne.

"_Ponchik_, get us out of here, that big tank is about to go kaboom!"

The Soviet captain peered in the command periscope again. As he panned to the left he saw that the fascist supertank's rear sponson guns were tracking something, then he scanned further back and saw Rhino Two-One just sitting there.

"Lugo, what the fuck are you doing, get your arse out of there the supertank is tracking you, _blya_!"

To his relief the T-55 lurched into reverse and chugged backwards, and he heard the Delta sniper's voice.

_"Hey, relax comrade, we got this bitch nailed, stop being such a worry-"_

But the rest of what Lugo had to say was cut off by static as Vasya saw something impact on the T-55's front corner.

"Rhino Two-One, do you copy? Rhino Two-One this is Rhino Two-Two, you appear to have taken damage, do you copy?"

There was nothing but static that greeted him.

"Lugo! If you're alive answer me, _suka blya_!"

There was another loud explosion followed by the _clang!_ and the entire turret reverberated like the inside of a church bell.

"The supertank hit us! We're hit!"

Vasya massaged his temples and thumped Guiche without taking his eyes off the periscope.

"You idiot _palvin_! If that was the supertank we'd be dead..."

He rotated the scope 180 degrees.

"_Blya_! We have more Reconquista tanks on our six!"

The Soviet officer leaned forward.

"Malicorne! turn us around and lets get the last of these rolling steam boilers!"

As the T-55 rotated in place to turn around, Vasya spared a glance over at Lugo's T-55, it was still intact and moving, but the experienced tanker in him couldn't shake a feeling of dread.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Lugo wasn't caught flat footed as he also saw the sponson gun tracking them.<p>

"Katie! Get us out of here!"

He looked over to Beatrice.

"Blondie! See if you can find another shaped charge or armor piercing round, we're gonna try and take out that other gun."

There was a loud _clang!_ and initially everybody panicked, only for Lugo to calm them down.

"Everyone do a system's check!"

Katie checked all the gauges on the driving panel.

"All systems are in the green here, Sgt. Lugo!"

Lizzie tested the turret.

"Turret functions still operations, sir!"

Lugo smiled as he heard the Soviet officer's accented voice asking for a sit rep. He smiled as he keyed the mic.

"Hey, relax comrade..."

Unbeknownst to them, the shell that the K-Wagen shot had impacted Rhino Two-One, but the shell had malfunctioned, and as a result the entire warhead had embedded itself in a toolbox mounted to the T-55's left front fender skirt. Also unbeknownst to them was that the fuse was still active, and was slowly crawling towards the detonator with every jar and jostle of the tank's movements.

"...we got this bitch nailed, stop being such a worry-"

The rest of what Lugo was about to say was drowned out by a colossal explosion as the shell detonated. Since the shell was pointed down and off-center, most of the explosive force was focused downward and out, the toobox and armored fender skirt suffered most of the damage as shrapnel peppered the tank's treads, their steel composite links barely holding together. A small portion of the shell's explosive force was directed at the tank's hull, which at that point was only 80mm of armor.

The tank's hull held its integrity, the explosion only slightly warping the hull's steel armor as it suffered no penetrating hit. However, the T-55's internal armor was a different matter. Modern tanks lined their interiors with special anti-frag kevlar coating to protect their crew, but unfortunately the T-55 predated such measures. The explosion, in addition to warping the hull, sprayed the driver's compartment with fragments of the inner armor, hitting the driver Katie in the leg and wrist.

But before the girl could even yelp, a fist-sized armor fragment came flying at her. Her shoulder took the brunt of the force, and her helmet saved her from being killed outright, as it absorbed most of the impact from the fragment. However, the force of the impact knocked Katie unconscious, and she slumped forward on the controls, unresponsive. Lugo tried to raise her on the radio.

"Katie! Katie are you alright! Talk to me!"

He pushed Lizzie aside and peered through the small opening and saw the brunette slumped at the controls. Lugo shook his head.

"Rhino Two-Two, this is Rhino Two-One we need backup, we've taken heavy fire and our driver's out of commission..."

Static greeted Lugo, and he tried again.

"Repeating, this is Rhino Two-One, we've taken heavy fire and possible damage and casualties, we need backup, how copy?"

Panic stabbed the Delta Force operator's stomach, and he immediately switched the radio to wide-frequency.

"Any units that can here me, this is Rhino Two-One we have taken fire and need immediate assistance, over!"

Another jarring impact shook the entire tank, and for a moment Lugo thought they had been hit. It wasn't, but rather the tread links, weakened by the explosion, finally snapped and tread slipped off. The uneven terrain caused the T-55 to lurch to the left, and it struck a burned out Reconquista tank hulk. Inside Lugo heard the shrief of metal grinding against metal, and the was thrown back as the tank angled upwards. Lugo's head hit the periscope, and he blacked out.

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, 10 klicks to the southeast on the edge of the Ardness Forest)<strong>

Petya never thought he would say it, but he was bored. Here he was, seated in the driver's seat of a super advanced fighting vehicle more like a futuristic space ship than a tank, and he was bored. This T-15 Armata was a dream to drive, similar and yet so different from the venerable T-55 he maintained back in Kabul, the sleek tank's sophisticated suspension cushioned just about every pothole and log that he drove over.

And yet, he still had no idea how to operate the main gun. Briefly he had fiddled with the gunner's console, trying to power it up, but the little startup cheat sheet had nothing on how to activate this futuristic tank's weapons systems. At least the elf maiden Lucie had cast something called a 'Spell of Replenishing' on it, whatever that was, the young Soviet soldier thought to himself.

Petya's thoughts were interrupted when something loomed in the viewscreen. Too late the young soldier realized he had reached a crossroads, and he jammed on the brake pedal. There was a crash, and he felt his stomach churn as the T-15 lurched to a stop, it's nose dipping down as it ground to a halt. The _Prapor_ popped open the hatch and pulled himself up.

Once topside it looked like he had knocked over a wooden signpost. Petya slid off the angular frontal armor and slipped to the ground. Sure enough it was a crossroads sign, and he recognized one of the towns as BRUGUES: 10 KM. Unfortunately since the sign was on the ground there was no telling which way was Brugues. Sighing to himself, Petya reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his blue pack of Belomor.

He clutched a _papirosa_ in his teeth and pulled out his matchbox. As he struck a match and lit his cigarette, Petya heard a rustling noise from some of the bushes and undergrowth near his position. He blew out the match and gingerly reached into his other pocket that held his Makarov and drew it. The elf girl Lucie had been profuse in her warnings about the dangers of brigands of other highwaymen in the realm of humans, so Petya wasn't taking any chances. With a _snik!_ the Prapor loaded a round and pointed it in the vicinity of the noise. He took a drag from his cigarette and spoke in a loud voice.

"Alright, I know you're in there, if I have to flush you out it won't be pretty, so come out nice and slow."

For a moment there was no movement, but finally the bushes parted, and the figure that was in hiding emerged. Peyta's _papirosa_ almost fell from his lips at he sight that greeted him. There was a young girl in her teens, wearing some sort of ridiculous frilly apron like a housemaid. She had short chin length hair and large blue eyes, eyes that were wide with fear at the sight of his vehicle and weapon. She spoke in a terrified small voice.

"P-please don't hurt me, sir!"

Realizing his mistake, Petya holstered his pistol and gave a friendly smile.

"I'm sorry to frighten you, _devotcha_, but don't worry I'm not going hurt you. I thought you were a brigand."

The Prapor gave the girl a reassuring smile as he pointed his himself.

"Almost forgot manners. My name is Pyotr, formerly _Praporshchik_ Mironov, but my friends call me Petya."

The girl nodded.

"My name is Siesta, sir."

He glanced over to the forest.

"Question Siesta, why were you hiding in bushes? Seems an odd thing for a maid to do. Those bushes don't need dusting..."

The maid lowered her eyes.

"I-I'm just trying to get to my husband...he...he's fighting a battle for control of Brugues, and I have to be with him!"

Petya grinned.

"Let me guess, he is _amerìkānskī _who wears funny uniform, right?"

The girl cocked her head to one side.

"His name is John Lugo, and he is working with Colonel Konrad of the Damned 33rd. They were trying to prevent the Reconquista from invading Brugues!"

Petya chuckled again.

"Well, this is indeed a day of coincidences, and I'm sure the Beautiful Lady had nothing to do with it."

Seeing the girl give him an odd look, the _Prapor_ hastily added.

"That is...I need to get to Brugues as well, but I don't know the way."

He gestured to the Armata.

"Tell you what, _devotcha_. I will give you a lift to Brugues, you just point Petya in the right direction, _da_?"

The little maid then did something that shocked the Soviet soldier, she let out a loud squeal of glee and rushed over to grasp Petya's waist in a tight embrace. When he finally overcame his shock the Prapor gently pried the girl off of him.

"Ah, you're welcome, but don't get any funny ideas, or else Lucie will turn you into toad."

Siesta blushed, and quickly took a step back. With Petya's help the she pulled herself up onto the Armata's hull and climbed through the hatch into the tank's interior. Petya was already seated, and pointed to a leather chair to his right.

"You can sit in the gunner's chair, Siesta."

The girl reluctantly nodded and sat down. As the Prapor began the startup procedures he spoke again.

"So, which way to Brugues?"

Siesta pointed straight ahead.

"T-that way...the quickest way to Brugues is through the Ardness forest!"

Petya nodded and pushed the start button that engaged the engines. The T-15's turbines whined as its engines fired up. With another stomach-churning jolt the Armata lurched forward and crashed through the underbrush. Petya turned the steering yoke to the left to avoid a large tree, then looked over to the maid.

"Say, see if you can test-fire the turret!"

The maid took the joystick in her small hand.

"Okay... How do I use this thing?"

Petya shrugged.

"Hell if I know!"

The girl's large blue eyes widened.

"You don't know how it works?! But this is your world's technology!"

Petya shook his head.

"This thing is science fiction technology as far as I'm concerned, I just know how to drive it."

The _Prapor_ looked over and pointed to the joystick in front of her.

"If those who designed it were sane, the joystick would control the turret, the trigger button under in front of it is for cannon, and that red switch on top serves to change between cannon and coaxial weapons."

Petya saw a a pair of orange buttons on either side of the firing console.

"...And these orange buttons probably fire the missiles."

Siesta timidly took the joystick and tried moving it. Nothing happened. She looked over to Petya.

"I-it's not working!"

Petya cursed to himself.

"_Blya! _It's probably turned off! Look for the switch or something!"

He pointed to a small box that was plugged into a jack by her screen. The box was the wide and length of his palm, and it's face was a glossy black.

"Try pushing the button on the bottom of that box, maybe that engages the weapons."

Siesta pushed the button, and to both of their suprise surprise the erstwhile blank screen began to glow blue. A stylized etching of an apple appeared on the screen, then Petya quickly turned his attention back on the road, turning the yoke smoothly to the left to avoid a large rock blocking his path.

Suddenly the cabin was filled with a bouncy tune, a tune that the _Prapor_ recognized. He grinned at Siesta.

"Hey! Dancing Queen! I know this!"

The little maid's eyes widened in fear.

"But the weapons?!"

The smile vanished from Petya's face.

"I hope the Beautiful Lady didn't give me a defective vehicle."

He looked over to the maid.

"Now you must do time-honor traditional Soviet tanker method of getting equipment to function. Start pushing buttons until it works, then hit screen with fist until works!"

The girl nodded and started to push the various buttons and flip various switches around gunner's seat. Something buzzed above; she tried the joystick again, but the screen was still dead.

"Work! Work, Brimir-Blast you!"

Siesta rarely cursed, but she was desperate. She slammed the blank screen with her tiny fist. The disco music stopped abruptly, and Petya heard a nagging beeping klaxon, followed by a sultry female voice in Russian.

_"Warning: unknown vehicles in the area, IFF negative."_

Petya looked at his screen, and a box appeared in the upper left-hand corner . In that box was a radar-like screen with several blips, and in the right-hand side was a small picture that showed an opening in the forest several large boxy shapes appeared. Petya pushed a button that caused the picture to zoom in, and sure enough, they were tanks. Not Yankee tanks, at least not ones made from his time. They were bulky and made of riveted steel, with odd markings on them. They looked like the old Allied tanks from the First World War. He saw one of the sponson mounted guns track, and knew that if he could see them, they could see the T-15. The gun's muzzle flashed.

"Incoming!"

The Armata shook slightly from the impact. Petya heard the female voice speak up again.

_"Warning: taking enemy fire, bearing zero-one-five."_

Vehicle's schematic appeared on Petya's screen, with one of its side armor bricks flashing red.

_"Warning: Malachit armor block 3L damaged. Warning: activate weapons and protection systems."_

Petya cursed again.

"_Blya_! No shit computer lady! We're trying!"

He looked over to Siesta, who was still frantically pushing buttons.

"No pressure, little _devotcha_, but I really could use the protection systems and covering fire now..."

The little maid was close to tears as she lowered her head.

"Work...Please..."

As Siesta lowered her head she saw that her right foot was standing on a small pedal that was bolted to the seat. Exhausted by her frustration and grief, she lifted her foot and pressed it. The screen in front of her flashed several times and lines of words streamed across it in blocky runes that she couldn't read, but Petya could.

"Way to go Siesta! You did it, it's powering up!"

The same feminine voice piped up again.

_"Primary and Secondary Weapons Online. Main Sights Online. Smoke grenade system online. Afghanit system Online."_

Petya raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell is Afghanit System?"

The screen finally transitioned to a outside camera feed that was probably sighted by the autocannon.

"Quickly, _devotchka_! Take out that tank!"

* * *

><p>"...Repeating Rhino Two-One this is Rhino Two-Two, do you copy?"<p>

There was no response.

"_Pizdets_! Where the hell is that Yankee?!"

Vaysa growled to himself as he scanned the battlefield. The plain, which only a day ago was a verdant spread of lush green grass, now was a field of churned mud, scarred with craters. A choking smog of exhaust and spent gunpowder reduced visibility to twenty meters. Every now and then a dark shape would loom in the smog, and Vasya would tense up.

"Potential Tango sighted, bearing Zero, Three, Zero!"

The turret groaned as it rotated into position, and as the fog cleared, it revealed a burned Reconquista hulk.

"Stand down, false alarm."

The entire tank shook. Vasya noticed that Guiche's widened with fright, but wisely kept his fears to himself. Good, the Soviet officer thought to himself. Even the _Stilyaga_ could learn after a few thumps to the head. He heard his gunner speak up.

_"What was that explosion, Captain?"_

Captain Bylinkin shook his head.

"Not sure, _Zheltorotik_. Let's see if our Yankee friends were successful in taking out the fascist supertank."

He rotated the periscope around, and through the haze he could see something massive burning. He chuckled to himself.

"It looks as though Comrade Sergeant Crosby was successful."

As if by magic Vasya's radio crackled to live, and he heard the Zulu Squad sergeant's voice come through.

_"Rhino Two-One, Rhino Two-Two this is Iceman, `port in..."_

Before the Soviet officer could respond there was another _CLANG!_ that reverberated through the T-55's cramped interior. Vasya peered through the scope and saw two Reconquista tanks trying to outflank him. He cursed.

"Two tangos inbound! Bearing Three, One, Zero! Engage!"

He then switched channels and spoke up.

"Iceman this is Rhino Two-Two, stand by we are engaging multiple hostiles and are little busy at the moment..."

There was more interference as another shell hit, this time it rattled the tank's flank. Through the static he heard Crosby's voice again.

_"Say again, Rhino Two-Two, say again..."_

Vasya cursed to himself and slapped Herve on the back of the head.

"_Blya_! Fire, you idiot, FIRE!"

The tank shook again as the main gun fired, and Vasya peered through the periscope again. The tank round detonated on the enemy tank's hull, blowing it apart. The Soviet officer smiled in satisfaction, but then he noticed a break in the fog and thought he saw a familiar shape. As he zoomed in, Vasya's heart sank. He saw Rhino Two-One, high-centered on a ruined Reconquista tank. There was damage to the front fender, and it looked as though the entire left hand tracks were blown off. Worse, he saw a cloud of smoke billowing from it. Crosby's urgent reply jarred him from his reverie.

_"Say Again, Rhino Two-Two, say again I did not copy your last!"_

Vaysa wiped the sweat out of his eyes and pressed his forehead against the periscope viewer, then sighed.

"Iceman this is Rhino Two-Two, repeating last: Rhino Two-One suffered crippling damage at the hands of the fascist supertank, have been unable to raise on radio...Rhino Two-Two is currently engaging multiple hostiles, stand by..."

He peered through the periscope again. There were at least three more Reconquista tanks approaching, but in the distance Vasya could see that the remaining enemy infantry was converging on Rhino Two-One's position, backed by the remaining half dozen tanks that were all that was left of the Reconquista invasion fleet.

"Iceman, this is Rhino Two-Two, Rhino Two-One is about to be overrun, send helicopter gunship to provide close air support, we will try and engage from behind."

There was no response. Vasya tried again.

"Repeating to Iceman, this is Rhino Two-Two did you read my last?"

Still no response. Vasya struck the inside bulkhead in frustration.

"_Pizdets_! That last hit to the turret must have taken out our antenna."

He leaned forward.

"_Ponchik_, take us out on a heading Zero Four Zero, in zigzag formation..."

Vasya then looked over to the young gunner.

"_Zheltorotik_, now is the time to sharpen your beak, I want every one of those tanks that are between us and Rhino Two-One taken out, is that clear?"

* * *

><p>Lugo's saw spots as he came to, and he thought he heard distant female voices. His vision slowly focused on a pair of blue eyes that were wide with fear.<p>

"Sergeant Lugo! Please snap out of it."

The Delta sniper immediately grabbed the periscope and pulled himself up.

"What the hell happened?" He said as he looked around.

The interior of the tank was dark angled upwards. It was silent as well, the engines had either stopped or stalled. Suddenly he heard the hull ping as bullets impacted. The blonde girl Beatrice shook with fear.

"We're sitting ducks inside this steel sarcophagus! What do we do?!"

Lugo looked aft and saw the green-haired girl Lizzie was stooped over the unconscious driver.

"How is Katie? Is she-"

Beatrice shook her head.

"No, thank Brimir Katie is still alive, but her injuries are severe. Lizzie is trying her healing spells, but Katie still won't wake up..."

The Delta sniper wiped some sweat from his face.

"Alright. Try and see if you can salvage any weapons in here, and failing that assist Lizzie in stabilizing Katie."

He took off his helmet, replacing it with his baseball cap.

The blonde girl put a hand on his arm.

"P-please! Don't leave us!"

Lugo smiled and gently removed the girl's hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, Blondie. I'm just going topside to see how bad the damage is."

He then opened up the turret and pulled himself up to the command cupola. As Lugo looked down it confirmed what he feared; the T-55's treads on the left side had slipped, and they were high-centered on a ruined Reconquista tank. The Delta sniper surveyed the battlefield and the reality of what they had done sunk it for the first time. The battlefield was a morass of mud churned up by tank treads and shell craters, a choking grey pall of cordite and smoke hung over the battlefield like a smog. Under the stink of diesel fumes and propellant hung that nauseating smell that Lugo knew all too well from Dubai. The stink of burning flesh.

A round impacting on the turret shook Lugo from his reverie, and he saw a platoon of Reconquista soldiers advancing on his position. He then saw several large bulky objects emerge from the smog. He shouted down into the turret.

"Tango sighted! Stay down, I'm engaging with AA weapon!"

He pulled himself over to the loader's hatch and pulled the bolt back on the cocking lever on the pintle-mounted gun. Lugo then swung it around to aim at the incoming enemy. The anti-aircraft machine gun was designed to take out enemies in the air, but the .50 caliber BMG rounds were equally deadly in scything through infantry.

Inside the tank Beatrice was having trouble breathing, unaware that she was hyperventilating. She had never told her friends of what happened to her as a child, how she had accidentally locked herself in her father's wine cave, it was hours before her parents realized where she was and had rescued her from that dark hole. The blonde noble would have never admitted it, but thereafter she had a crippling fear of dark enclosed spaces. It was what made her so distracted as Captain Bylinkin was training her to load shells into the breech, but in the end she had thought that she overcame her fears by focusing on the task at hand. Certainly in the thick of battle her fears were forgotten.

Now, locked inside the dark cramped interior of the stricken tank, all that fear came back like a tidal wave. Her heightened fears increased with every _ping!_ of enemy bullets striking the hull, Beatrice was certain that one of those bullets would strike a vulnerable spot and cause the entire tank to blow sky high. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe.

"Is everything alright, Beatrice?"

The blonde jumped and let out a terrified squeak, only to see that it was Lisette. Her green-haired friend had managed to gently carry Katie into the main turret. Beatrice shook her head.

"I-I'm alright, Lizzie."

She looked up.

"I just hope that Sergeant Lugo knows what he is doing."

Suddenly there was a loud _CLANG!_ struck the tank. That was the last straw that caused Beatrice to lose her nerve.

"AHHH! That's it! I can't take this anymore!"

Frantically she looked up and saw the command hatch and reached for it.

* * *

><p>"SHIT!"<p>

Lugo pulled himself up from the improvised cover of the hatch and fired another burst at the Reconquista tank that scored a lucky hit on the T-55 front quarter. It didn't damage the tank anymore than it already was, but Lugo still had to duck the incoming shrapnel. He swiveled the AA gun at the offending tank and fired several bursts. The high-caliber bullets struck the enemy tank, and the Delta sniper was rewarded by several internal explosions and steam eddying out of the tank's viewports.

Suddenly the command hatch to his left opened up, and Lugo tore his eyes away from the battlefield just in time to see Beatrice pull herself up. Her hair was a matted rat's nest that was grimy from the propellant and grease, but it was her eyes that told the Delta operator everything. The blonde's eyes were wider than usual, and wild with fright. He barked an order at her.

"BEATRICE! Get back in the goddam tank!"

If she heard Lugo the blonde didn't respond, but scrambled over the side of the tank and slipped into the relative cover between the T-55 and the ruined tank it was high-centered on. Lugo cursed again. These magic students weren't soldiers, that was damn sure. But Beatrice's desertion had other consequences as well, while he was distracted another Reconquista tank approached, it's weapons primed and tracking the T-55's turret. Lugo only had moments to react when he saw the sponson gun pointed right at him.

Sgt. Lugo pushed himself off the turret, and he tumbled down onto the fender just as the round impacted on the opposite side of the turret. The explosion stunned the Delta operator, and he was still shaking the spots from his vision when he noticed a green head poke out of the loader's turret. He saw Lisette looking around and weakly called out.

"Get...back into the tank, Lizzie!"

Unfortunately it just caught her attention and she stood up, peering over the side.

"Sergeant Lugo! Are you injured-"

The rest of what she was about to say was cut off by a yelp of pain, and she grabbed her side. A Reconquista fusilier had gotten off a shot, and it had hit home. Lugo pulled himself up, shielding the girl with his body and drew his M9. Three taps sent the enemy soldier to the ground, and the Delta sniper looked down at Beatrice, who seemed to have snapped out of her funk.

"Beatrice, help me get her down, before she gets shot again!"

Lugo watched as the blonde cradled her friend and helped bring her down to the ground. He reached into a pouch on his hip and pulled out a small med kit. He tossed it down to Beatrice.

"Try to stop the bleeding, keep her head elevated..."

He coughed and tried to rub the burning sensation from his eyes. Lugo felt light-headed, maybe he took a worse knock to the head than he thought. The Delta sniper tried to shake the feeling and pulled himself up. The sight that greeted Lugo made his heart sink. Four more tanks emerged from the smog, and he counted at least twenty or thirty infantrymen closing in a semi-circular pattern. They were surrounded. He glanced down at his M9 and wished that he had the foreknowledge to bring his TAR-21 with him. Hell, even his Scout would be an improvement on the popgun he was currently wielding.

A small whimper tore his gaze away from the battlefield and downward. Lissette was conscious, but he knew she wouldn't last long. For that matter, Katie was still inside the tank. He had to try and get her out, but first he had to push back the enemy. A platoon of enemy soldiers were creeping closer, and he quickly fired his M9 in rapid succession. The fusiliers scattered, but as soon as Lugo took cover he knew they would reground and continue advancing. It just seemed hopeless.

Then suddenly Lugo heard heard the staccato bark of an autocannon behind him, and he peered out of cover. The ground erupted around the advancing infantry as they were cut down. He glanced over his shoulder at the thicket that was just behind his position. That fire must be coming from the forest, he thought, as more fire poured out of the darkness and slammed into the nearest enemy tank. Then the thicket erupted, with branches and leaves flying in every direction, and Lugo was temporarily blinded by a bright light. As his vision returned Lugo saw that it was two spotlights in the darkness and he heard the roar of a tank gunning its engine. Two trees tipped over and the remaining underbrush was flattened as a massive tracked vehicle pulled itself free.

It was an Infantry Fighting Vehicle, no doubt about it. But Lugo had never seen anything like it before; it had a sleek prow like a ship and its flanks protected by blocks of modular armor. A squat turret bristling with rocket pods and an autocannon rotated and aimed at the next tank. Before he could react the Delta sniper heard a thickly accented voice boom out.

"Everyone get down, Petya is about to party..."

The turret's autocannon erupted with another deafening burst, and the Reconquista tank crumbled under the withering fire. Lugo looked down at Beatrice, whose eyes were wide with fear, even Lisette had looked up.

"Well, ladies looks like our backup has showed up!"

Beatrice smiled as she stood, but then stifled a scream as she pointed off away.

"To the side! To the side!"

Lugo looked off to the side where the blonde was pointing, and quickly ducked.

"Oh crap, get down!"

As he and Beatrice scrambled for cover, the Reconquista tank trained its gun at the IFV. At point blank range like this Lugo fully expected it to hit and destroy their last chance to survive this battle, but what came next made him to wide his eyes in shock.

* * *

><p>Petya cursed as another blip appeared on the radar screen.<br>"_Blya_, another one! Take him out real fast, or your John Lugo is toast!"

He glanced over to the external feed and gulped. The tank had its gun trained on the Armata. The _Prapor_ wasn't worried, he and the little maid are protected by several tons of armor, but the Yankee and the two girls would be caught up in the blast and obliterated.

Suddenly, the Armata's feminine voice spoke up again.

_"Threat detected, engaging with Afghanit."_

The enemy tank fired, but the shell never hit. Instead, one of large tubes mounted on IFV's flanks fired burst. A short missile whistled over T-55's wreck, and a moment later it reached the incoming enemy round. Both exploded in mid-flight, creating a large fireball and sending shrapnel in every direction.

Petya grinned as he saw the scene through the camera feed.  
>"Woah, that was close!"<p>

He looked over to Siesta.

"Now nail that bitch!"

Siesta yanked the joystick to the left. As the Reconquista tank appeared in sights, she gave an uncharacteristic smirk.

"This is what you get for trying to hurt my husband!"  
>Recalling Petya's words about the missiles, she pushed both triggers as hard as she could. Something whooshed up top, and on her screen she saw two smoke contrails running towards the enemy. As they connected, two violent explosions tore the enemy tank apart. The secondary explosions tore through the remaining infantry and scattered them.<p>

Petya sighed with relief.

"And that would be the last of them!"

He punched a few buttons.

"Deploying smoke grenades, in case there are any stragglers."

He looked over to Siesta.

"Why not go lower the ramp and greet your husband,_ devotcha_?"

_(AN: So there you have it, Petya and the glorious T-15 Armata come to the rescue. Now you can see that War is Hell, and having a Harem for a tank crew might be nice on paper, but not so nice in a battlefield..._

_I don't know when I'll get the next chapter up, hopefully in the next week or so. We're in conference season at work so I've been busy prepping and packing and traveling all over the place, hence the delays. My hope is things will die down in the next few weeks so I can go back to the weekly/bi-weekly updates. _

_And for those still wanting more, we still have one more chapter to go with a twisted twist like a Twizzler (yum!). Stay tuned!)_


	141. Go Tell the Spartans

_(AN: Again, sorry this took so long...I've been on the road nonstop since the 7th, just got back. Anways, here's the next chapter, and at least it's a nice big fat chapter!)_

Lugo administered first aid to the wounded girls. Katie was still unconscious, but he bandaged up her wrist and shoulder as best as he could. Lisette was worse, he could barely staunch the bleeding from the wound in her abdomen. He heard a loud thump and looked up.

The futuristic IFV that saved his life had just fired off smoke grenades from its multi-barreled launch tubes. Lugo then heard a high-pitched whine and saw that the vehicle's rear hatch was lowering. The Delta sniper was prepared for just about anything, but what emerged from the interior of the odd armored vehicle shocked Lugo.

A pair of large blue eyes peered cautiously from the side, and the Delta Force operator heard a familiar loud squeal of glee as something tackled him to the ground. As the stars cleared from Lugo's vision he saw a familiar face smiling down at him.

"Siesta?! What the hell are you doing here?"

The maid's eyes shimmered, as if on the verge of tears.

"I-I was worried about you! I had a horrible premonition that you would be killed on this battlefield, and I had to come to help you!"

Lugo was at a loss for words, but then a new voice spoke up.

"So, you must be Sergeant Lugo."

It was a thickly accented voice like Vasiliy, but younger. The Delta sniper looked up and saw a lanky youth with short blonde hair standing in an open hatch to the front of the IFV. As the newcomer climbed out of the hatch and slipped to the ground Lugo noticed that he was wearing the same tattered grey tanker's coveralls and scuffed hobnail boots as Captain Bylinkin. The main difference was this soldier had a different rank: his shoulder boards were black with two gold stars. The young soldier pulled out his cigarette from his mouth and smiled at Lugo, speaking in accented English.

"Looks like Beautiful Lady and little maid were right, you were in need of rescuing eh, Yankee?"

Lugo pulled himself up and readjusted his baseball cap.

"Jeezus if this keeps up we'll have a Cold War in Helkeginia."

To his surprise the young Soviet soldier laughed.

"A Yankee sergeant with a sense of humor? That's new."

He held out a hand.

"I am _Praporshchik_ Mironov, but friends call me Petya."

Lugo shook Petya's hand and gestured to the IFV.

"Where the hell did you get that thing from? That's definitely not Cold War tech."

Petya grinned.

"Is long story, but..."

He was interrupted by a voice booming overhead. Petya looked up and saw a cluster of speakers that were hovering in mid-air, which weren't there before.

_"Hey, hey, hey! Lookie down there! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's an Awesome Personnel Carrier, that has saved Sergeant Pedobear and his harem from certain death! Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a round of applause and a warm welcome to our new Ruskie friend who made it happen!"_

The _Prapor_ stared dumbly at the speakers.

"Who that fuck is that?"

Lugo shook his head.

"A walking mouth that some fool gave a magic microphone to...He's less annoying in person. Actually, scratch that, he's more annoying in person."

He saw that Petya was still staring at him.

"He's the Radioman, and sort of the Damned 33rd's unofficial DJ."

No sooner had the voice stopped then the speaker disappeared, and Petya shrugged.

"You Yankees have weird habits."

He glanced over at the smoldering wreckage of the tanks.

"And looks like battle is won, yes?"

Before Lugo could respond his radio crackled to life.

_"...Repeating, this is Rhino Two-Two calling Rhino Two-One, do you copy, over?"_

The young Prapor chuckled.

"You Yankees must be desperate if you'red working with Soviet Army."

He took the radio from the Delta sniper and keyed the mic. He spoke in his most serious voice.

"Comrade Captain Bylinkin, as your Prapor is my duty to inform you that fraternizing with the Yankees violates the Soviet Army code of conduct. I am now forced to report you to our _Zampolit_ for questioning."

Lugo heard laughter on the other end.

"_Ni huya sebe! It's good to hear from you, Petya, I'm glad you could join us now that the fighting is over. But if you don't mind, I need to have words with Yankee named Sergeant Lugo."_

* * *

><p><strong>(five minutes later...)<strong>

Lugo looped the tow hook through the loop on the front of the damaged T-55, then tugged it tight until it was secure. He turned and called forward to the driver of the Armata.

"Tow cable secure!"

At the front of the T-15 Petya was in the driver's seat, his head sticking out of the hatch, and he grinned at Vasya. The old soviet officer called back to Lugo.

"Sergeant! Make sure the parking brake is off!"

When the Delta sniper gave him the thumbs-up he turned to Petya.

"All is ready, Comrade _Prapor_!"

Petya nodded.

"Firing up engines!"

When he said that, the chubby student Malicorne, who had been standing towards the rear hatch, gave a sudden start. Recalling the cloud of sooty black smoke that hit him when the T-55 had powered up, he quickly made his way towards the front corner of the new tank.

"This time," he said to himself, "I won't get hit by that smoke!"

Then Malicorne heard a high-pitched whine as the engines powered up, but then a jet of flame spewed out of a port on the front corner. The appearance of the flame startled the boy. He stumbled backwards and landed in a puddle of mud. The boy sighed to himself.

"How could this day get any worse?"

Then Petya revved the T-15's engines, to warm them up, sending a powerful gust of exhaust downwards, and spraying Malicorne from head to toe with mud.

* * *

><p><strong>(thirty minutes later...)<strong>

Petya checked his radar screen, there were no enemy bogies of any sort, and a quick check of his camera feeds showed no warm bodies or enemy troops. Satisfied, he glanced back into the passenger compartment at Lugo, who was checking over the two wounded girls lying on the Armata's floor.

"How are they doing, Yankee?"

Lugo finished administering a morphine shot to Lisette.

"Well, they're stable, although Lizzie still hasn't woken up yet. They'll need extensive medical attention."

The _Prapor_ nodded and he pulled out his pack of Belomor. He shook out a _papirosa, _then offered Lugo one, who declined. Petya chuckled.

"Yankee soldiers who don't smoke? Next you will tell me that you have women in your ranks."

He reached up and opened the hatch.

"You mind taking over driving while I have smoke? Is just like driving a car; skinny pedal to right goes forward, wide pedal makes it go stop."

The Delta sniper grinned and sidled over to the driver's seat and took over as Petya climbed up.

The first thing Petya saw and smelled was the diesel fumes from Rhino Two-Two, who was in the lead and apparently being driven by a schoolboy named Hervé. The _Prapor_ then saw that his CO Captain Bylinkin was also seated up top, staring out at the battlefield as he smoked his own cigarette. As the junior officer lit his_ papirosa _he gestured to the bomb craters and the ruined enemy tanks.

"Must have been some party I missed, Comrade Captain."

Petya pointed to a large crater where the wreckage of the K-Wagen still burned.

"What the hell was that, a King Tiger?"

Vasya shrugged.

"Big fascist supertank like something out of the First World War, almost took out Sergeant Lugo's tank. Fortunately it fell victim to Yankee's daring plan."

Petya stared at the smoking wreckage, only a corner hull of the tank was still intact, the rest were pieces that could fit in the _Prapor_'s palm.

"So what did they do, rush up to it and stick a bomb on it, like in Stalingrad?"

Vasya chuckled.

"Almost that crazy..."

The Captain placed a hand on Petya's shoulder.

"It's good to have you back, Petya."

Petya grinned at his CO.

"Is good to be back, Comrade Captain, although now I should call you _Starik_, as old as you are!"

Vaysa snorted humorously.

"Bah! And I should steal the _Stilyaga_'s moniker and call you a _palvin_! Just how many rejuvenating potions have you drank since you arrived here?"

Petya ran a hand though his short blonde hair and chuckled.

"Too many to count, it goes down easier if you drink it with their date wine."

The _Prapor_ glanced back, and Vasya seemed to read his thoughts.

"Think you can fix it up, Petya?"

The junior officer snorted.

"Pah, just a bit of cosmetic damage, Comrade Captain. Give me a wrench and a hammer to beat out the dents and I'll have it up and running like new!"

The captain finished off his cigarette and tossed it over the side. Petya reached into one of the bellows pockets on his tanker uniform.

"Oh, almost forgot...Look what I found!"

The Soviet captain looked over and saw his Prapor was holding up a bottle, half full of clear liquid.

"Looks like the previous owners left it here. Little maid found it when she was looking for more bandages."

Petya unscrewed the cap and took a sniff.

"Vodka, and quality vodka at that, by the smell of it. Not the antifreeze they used to put in MiG-25's."

He offered the bottle to Vasya.

"Care for a drink, Comrade Captain?"

Vasya shook his head.

"And conform to the stereotypes these Yankees have about us? No, we wait until we make camp, then we share it with Sgt. Crosby. We need three persons to drink anyways."

The _Prapor_ screwed the cap back into place and stowed it, a somber expression crossing the younger man's face.

"Speaking of sergeants, have you heard from our _Starik_ Misha?"

The captain shrugged.

"I sent word with the elves, as I did to you. I don't think he will come, the last I spoke with him was shortly after we lost..."

Here he trailed off and gestured vaguely to the T-55 behind them. Petya nodded.

"Is okay, Vasya. It was a painful time, saying goodbye to our tank. So what did our _Starshina_ say?"

Vasya's eyes took on a faraway look as he spoke.

"He told me that he was done with fighting, because of what the _Lady Utrenyaya Zevezda_ told him."

Petya raised an eyebrow.

"Must have been something, if it shook up our venerable Dinosaur like that."

Their conversation was interrupted as the gunner's hatch opened, and the blonde girl with long pigtails pulled herself up. As she sat down on the edge of the T-15's hull Vasya turned to her.

"So Rapunzel, how is Katie and Lizzie?"

Beatrice glanced down into the open hatch before speaking.

"Sergeant Lugo has been able to stabilize them, but I fear for Lizzie, she still hasn't come out of her coma!"

Her large blue eyes started shimmering with tears. The Soviet captain smiled at her.

"Don't worry Beatrice, your friend will pull through just fine. If nothing else I want her to get better so I can yell at her for leaving the safety of the tank."

The blonde wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her school blouse, now stained by grease and dirt, and tried to smile.

"Thank you, Captain."

Vasya cocked his head to one side.

"What for?"

Beatrice smiled again, and this time it was less forced.

"For being patient with me, your training probably saved our lives!"

Captain Bylinkin patted her arm.

"Is something I have done for long time, not to worry."

He heard a huffing noise and saw the chubby rosy-cheeked second year student pull himself through the hatch, not without some difficulty.

Vasya reached into his breast pocket to pull out another cigarette. He also noticed that Beatrice was watching him intently.

"That is a _cheroute_, isn't it? My father smokes something like that, he got them all the way from the Kingdom of Romalia!"

The Soviet Captain smiled again as he pulled out a box of matches.

"_Da_, is like a cheroot, but these are not as nice."

As he struck a match and lit his cigarette, he saw that the blonde was watching his motions intently.

"Do me a favor, _Zlatovlaska_, don't ever take up smoking. Is nasty habit."

He saw Malicorne lean forward.

"Excuse me, Captain!"

"What is it, _Ponchik_?"

The boy lowered his eyes, toying with his fingers.

"Um...could I have one of those to smoke, sir?"

Before he could respond Petya laughed and leaned over to where the boy was sitting.

"Bah, listen _Molodoy_! You don't want to smoke those Java cigarettes! They taste like shit, and only sissies smoke them."

He pulled out his blue packet of Belomors.

"Now this, this is a man's smoke!"

The _Prapor_ shook a _papirosa_ loose from the pack and handed it to Malicorne.

"Put the hollow tube to your lips, and when I light this, take a nice deep drag!'

The boy nodded, and Petya, giving his CO a sly look pulled out his own box and struck a match. As he lit it, Malicorne took a deep breath, only to let out a coughing fit. The _Prapor_ cackled evilly.

"I don't think the boy likes smoking, Comrade Captain."

Vasya only shook his head and took the _papirosa_ away from Malicorne.

"What I said to Beatrice the same goes for you, _Ponchik_. Don't smoke, it will make you sick."

Seeing how green he was getting Vasya hastily added.

"And if you puke, puke over the side, don't ruin the nice interior of Comrade _Praporshchik_ Mironov's tank."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile back at base Saito approached a shelter just under the parapet, which served as the medic ward. He nodded to Lt. Bowles and PFC Walker, who were administering first aid to a wounded Sharpshooter. Over in the corner he could see blue hair; Tabitha was kneeling next to SSG Forbes' cot, bandaging his ribs. He walked over to Bowles and saluted.<p>

"Excuse me, sir? But have you seen Louise?"

Bowles grinned.

"Ah, the walking IED wasn't that badly hurt, just some scrapes. She's resting on a cot on the other side."

Saito nodded and walked past the wounded men, rounding a corner. Sure enough, sleeping on a cot was Louise, the girl with the hair-trigger temper that summoned him here. Saito set down his AKMS and knelt beside her. He pulled off his gloves and ran a finger through her pink hair. She was cute, that much Saito deduced when he first met her, but she was especially cute when she slept, without her default serious expression or frown that she was so prone to have.

A shadow fell over the cot, and Saito turned around, only to stand at attention and salute.

"Colonel Konrad, sir!'

Konrad smiled and returned the salute.

"At ease, Specialist."

Konrad glanced down at Louise and gave a small smile.

"How is she?"

"Lt. Bowles said she was fine, just needed some rest."

The colonel nodded.

"Think she would be well enough to fly?"

Saito glanced back down at her.

"I-I think so, sir. Why?"

Konrad glanced back to the Black Hawk, which was parked across the courtyard.

"We're are stabilizing two badly wounded students that need immediate medical attention, and now they're enough for transport."

He turned to go.

"As soon as you're ready I need you to pilot Bravo Zero and take us back to the palace."

Saito nodded.

"You're going too?"

"Affirmative, I'll need to report to the palace and debrief the princess."

He noticed a smirk on the teen's face, and the colonel immediately regretted his choice of words.

"If your girlfriend wants to come you'd better rouse her, but don't take too long."

The teen saluted.

"Yes, sir!"

After the colonel left Saito knelt down beside Louise. The conversation must have had an effect on her, because he could see the pinkette's eyelashes fluttering. Suddenly she opened her eyes.

"Saito!"

Quickly she sat up and hugged the teen very tightly. Then she pulled back and glared at him.

"Stupid familiar! I told you be safe!"

Saito just grinned at her, and her anger was quickly replaced by wide-eyed confusion.

"I could say the same about you. I told you to stay put."

Louise started to say something, but stopped, then lowered her eyes.

"I-I just didn't want to lose you, and I felt helpless at the palace."

She reached up and took his hand.

"Tabitha was going to check on Mr. Forbes anyways, so I went with her! I just had to make sure you were alright!"

Saito saw her eyes shimmer, and his heart melted at the sight.

"...Louise..."

* * *

><p>Petya saw the improvised fortification and let out a low whistle.<p>

"Who the hell designed that? That pile of dirt wouldn't hold back a group of drunken crippled _babushka's_, let along a modern army!"

Vasya chuckled.

"_Da_, I had the same reaction. But it's home base, so you should probably get back in and make sure Sergeant Lugo doesn't drive us into the moat."

Petya nodded and leaned into the hatch.

"Hey, Sergeant Lugo! Make way, I'll drive us in."

As the Delta sniper moved aside Petya climbed back into the cockpit. He took over the controls and looked over his shoulder, then grinned. The little maid was cuddling the Yankee soldier. He laughed.

"You two should get a room!"

Unbeknownst to the _Prapor_, his finger accidentally touched the smoke grenade toggle button, although thankfully they didn't fire. It was a source of amusement to someone else.

* * *

><p>Saito let out a laugh as he saw the T-15's grenade launchers twitch, just like ears. Louise looked up.<p>

"What are you laughing at? That ugly thing?"

The teen shook his head.

"No, those grenade launchers on the tank, they look like Nekomimi..."

He paused.

"Well, the ears of a really, really fat Neko."

The pinkette cocked her head to one side.

"What is a Nee-ko?"

"Well, in my country, Japan, girls sometimes wear cat ears."

Louise's eyes widened.

"Y-you mean they're were-cats?"

Saito laughed again.

"No, they're artificial, like a costume. They wear it because it looks cute."

He paused again and blushed slightly.

"Come to think of it, they'd look cute on you, too."

Louise thought to herself, and pictured herself wearing a skimpy outfit with cat ears, complete with a bell-collar. She then blushed at the thought, but the idea appealed to her.

"Saito, you pervert dog..."

But instead of hitting him, she reached out with her hands and pulled his face closer to hers. Their lips touched, and Saito felt a wave of emotions hit him. Then a loud female voice interrupted the mood.

"Saito! Have you seen Colonel Konrad?!"

Saito looked behind him and instantly wished he didn't. There was Illococoo, Sylphid's human form, except she was half-naked. A small rag bound up her ample bosom, and a slightly larger rag was wrapped around her hips. Apparently Tabitha left in a big enough hurry not to pack a spare set of clothes for her familiar. He realized that Ilococoo was still talking.

"...I have to find Konrad so he can take Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes! He's badly injured!"

The teen tore his gaze away from her bust, and spoke.

"Not to worry, I'm piloting Bravo Zero, I'll make sure Forbes is on that flight."

Ilococoo clasped her hands together.

"Oh, thank you so much, Saito! I owe you a bushel of apples for that!"

And to show her gratitude she glomped Saito, mashing his face into her bust. In the presence of Louise. Who was flushing pink for a different reason. The livid pinkette hissed in a low dangerous whisper as her eye twitched.

"Sssssaitoooo! You perverted horndog!"

* * *

><p>Forbes regained consciousness at the sound of a distant explosion. His eyes opened wide and he started to sit up, then immediately regretted it as a knifing pain stabbed his chest. The sergeant then felt a small hand gently push him back down, he looked up and saw Tabitha sitting next to him, with a book.<p>

"What the hell was that, artillery fire?"

The blue-haired bookworm gave a small smile as she shook her head.

"No, just Louise."

The wounded sergeant chuckled lightly.

"I bet Specialist Hiraga wished it was just artillery fire."

Forbes instantly regretted chuckling as more pain lanced his sides. Then, he felt a warming sensation and the pain subsided. He looked up again to see that Tabitha had raised her stave and a shower of glittering blue light issued from it, washing over his torso. As he drifted back to sleep he vaguely heard Tabitha speak again.

"Sleep, and get well."

* * *

><p>Sgt. Crosby let out a low whistle. This was his first look at the sleek futuristic tank that saved Lugo's life. Far from the simple but rugged BMP's and tanks that the Soviet Union churned out, this T-15 Armata was loaded to the gills with state-of-the-art weaponry, and if Lugo was to be believed, guided missiles that could defeat enemy tank shells. Hell, this thing could give the M1 Abrams a run for it's money, Crosby thought. Petya grinned like a proud father showing off his son, and leaned over to his CO, speaking in Russian.<p>

"I think the Yankee is impressed, Comrade Captain."

Suddenly they heard a distant explosion, and through the open hatch they heard a beeping klaxon, followed by a sultry feminine voice.

_"Warning: explosion detected, unknown IFF, bearing one-zero-zero."_

Immediately the _Prapor_ looked around.

"What the fuck was that? Enemy stragglers?"

He didn't see the sergeant in black and white armor shake his head, but the _Prapor_ did hear Crosby mutter under his breath.

"Shit, not this again."

Perplexed, the junior officer persisted.

"What is 'this' you speak of, Yankee? Magical enemy artillery?"

Crosby turned and spoke over his shoulder.

"Nope, just a magical walking IED. Be back in a jiffy."

Petya looked over to Captain Bylinkin with a puzzled look on his face. Vasya shrugged.

"Apparently there are _devotchki_ in this world with severe mood swings and powerful magic."

* * *

><p>Louise furiously tried to squirm out of the Zulu Squad sergeant's grip, but it was to no avail. Sgt. Crosby had just barely enough time to snatch away Louise's wand and hold her under one arm before she fired off another destructive spell at Saito. The teen himself was only singed, as Illococoo had managed to absorb most of the blast. At the expense of losing what little cover she had.<p>

"Sir Crosby, I order you to unhand me!"

The sergeant shook his head.

"Not happening, not until you calm down."

The pinkette struggled, but was still firmly pinned under Crosby's arm. The Zulu Squad sergeant looked over to the dazed Saito, who was pulling himself up.

"If I were you, I'd make tracks for the Black Hawk, and get it fired up."

The teen needed no encouragement, and made a beeline to where the helicopter was parked.

"Trouble, sergeant?"

Crosby turned and saw Colonel Konrad standing there. The sergeant tried a left-handed salute, but the colonel held up a hand.

"At ease, sergeant, looks like you got your hands full."

Konrad nodded to Louise, who to her credit stopped struggling.

"I seem to recall Sgt. Crosby telling you to keep that temper of yours in check."

"B-but my fam-I mean Saito was acting like a pervert again!"

The colonel chuckled as he saw Tabitha trying to get Illococoo re-dressed.

"Yes, Louise, I saw it just as well. But from where I stood it looked as if Tabitha's familiar assaulted Saito, he didn't have any say-so."

"B-but-"

But Konrad leaned in, fixing the pinkette with a glare that even made Crosby sweat.

"No buts, young lady! You come from a noble house, and you are a powerful mage. I won't have you accidentally killing my men because you can't control your temper, is that understood?"

Louise quailed under the colonel stern gaze and finally lowered her eyes.

"Y-yes sir."

Konrad shifted his gaze to Crosby.

"I think you can let her go now, sergeant. Your arm must be getting tired as it is."

Crosby smiled and set the pinkette back on her feet.

"Go run along and help the medics load up the wounded into the chopper."

Louise nodded, then threw one more fearful look at Konrad, and left. The colonel chuckled as the girl hastily ran off to where the stretchers were.

"Crosby, I swear that Saito kid must be made of iron. Any normal man would have been killed a dozen times because of her hair-trigger temper."

The Zulu Squad sergeant grinned.

"Roger that, sir. Must be this place. Everything else is screwed up."

Konrad looked over to the parapet, and nodded up at the lone officer standing on duty.

"I'm leaving Lt. McPherson in charge of this operation. As soon as the Reconquista ship leaves Tristianian waters, I want the rest of you to pack up and make for Dunkerque."

Crosby cocked his head to one side.

"You think they'll attack there?"

Konrad shook his head.

"It would be suicide, seeing how fortified the city is. But," he gestured to the battlefield, "the Reconquista hasn't exactly been real brainiacs in the tactical front."

He turned back to face Crosby.

"I've sent word to Colbert at the Academy, as soon as Spooky is airworthy I want it armed and up in the air. If those Reconquista bastards try to invade Tristain again, I want a nasty surprise waiting for them."

Their conversation was interrupted by the high-pitched whine of the Black Hawk's engines spooling up.

"That's my cue to leave, sergeant. Hold down the fort, I know I'm leaving McPherson in charge but I expect you to keep the rank-and-file in line. Understood?"

Crosby snapped a salute.

"Roger that, sir!"

Konrad returned the salute with a smile, and turned on his heels. For a while Crosby watched as the wounded were loaded up into the chopper, and he noticed that Beatrice was also helping, and hopped aboard as well. Then the Black Hawk's blades started spinning faster, and with a cloud of dust kicked up the helicopter lifted off. Crosby shielded his eyes away from the dust, and he heard an accented voice behind him.

"_Bozhe moy_, that's quite a fast bird."

He turned to see the Russian junior officer squinting up at the Black Hawk as it flew away.

"Much difference from the Huey."

Crosby nodded.

"Yep, although your Hind still has it beat on firepower. What can I do for you, _Praporshchik_ Mironov"

Petya grinned.

"Eh, you pronounce Russian very well, Comrade Sergeant Crosby. The Captain requests your presence at our little encampment."

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"Mission debriefing?"

The Prapor chuckled.

"_Nyet_, more like an informal get-together. Think of it like a culture exchange."

He paused.

"And to drink lots of vodka, so bring extra liver."

* * *

><p><strong>(Later that night)<strong>

Crosby tried to fight down the coughing fit, but his body recoiled from the liquid as it traced a fiery path down his throat. Finally he let out a choking cough, and he felt a hand thump his back as he heard the Russian's raucous laughter.

"Sunnovabitch that shit's dynamite!"

Vasya continued laughing as he took the bottle from the Zulu Squad sergeant and took a swig.

"Bah! You're just spoiled by those girly drinks back in America."

He held up the bottle before tossing it over to Petya.

"This vodka, this is a man's drink! It will put hair on your knuckles."

"...and your palms and the soles of your feet, judging by the Sarge's reaction."

The two Russians looked up and saw the young private with the large blue eyes approach. Petya offered the bottle to him.

"Ah, Private Walker, is it? Care for some water of life, too?"

Alex chuckled and shook his head.

"That's a negative, Ivan. I need my liver intact."

He glanced over to Crosby.

"Sarge, the El-Tee wants a word, when you gotta moment."

Crosby nodded and stood up, although a bit unsteadily, and bid the two Soviet soldiers good-night. As they made their way across the fort's courtyard to the parapet, the sergeant saw that Alex was smiling.

"What's got you in a good mood, Alex?"

The private's smile widened into a grin.

"Oh, Lt. McPherson gave me my new marching orders, said I should go ahead of the column and check up on Dunkerque. Make sure they're fortifying the frontier."

Crosby let out a chuckle.

"Sounds to me as if the lieutenant's giving you 48 hour leave for me to get a conjugal visit with you blonde Musketeer girlfriend."

He playfully elbowed the private in the ribs as they climbed the steps up to the top of the wall.

"Looking forward to some nookie, eh private? A bit of horizontal mambo? The ol' army Pump n' Dump?"

Alex tried to act casual and hide his embarrassment, fighting back the heat that was causing his ears and cheeks to turn red.

"Ah, yeah the El-Tee did say something like that, although he was a bit less explicit."

The two soldiers approached McPherson and snapped a salute. The lieutenant returned the salute and nodded to Alex.

"That will be all, private. Go get some rest, and I'll have one of the men rouse you when Bowles is ready for takeoff tomorrow morning."

Alex snapped another salute and marched off, grinning. McPherson smiled and turned his attention to the battlefield. Both moons were out in full tonight, and the winds off the coast had dissipated most of the smog from the battle. Smoke still billowed from some of the enemy tank wrecks, and the crater where the remains of Von Wittmann's supertank lay still glowed with burning fires. Off in the distance they could still see the large wooden dreadnought, but it had wisely retreated, by morning it would be out of Tristain's territorial waters.

Satisfied, McPherson turned back to the sergeant.

"Job well done today, Crosby. The Old Man was right. We beat those bastards back, and beat the odds."

Crosby nodded and looked back into the improvised fortification. Of the original fifty defenders there was less than twenty Sharpshooters that had escaped injury or death, there were at least a dozen more that were bedridden and being tended to by volunteer mages from Brugues. A generous noble had send his chef and several carts of food to feed the survivors, the Battered Bastards of Brugues, as one inebriated Sharpshooter had called themselves.

"We still suffered casualties, sir."

McPherson shrugged.

"It could have been worse, if that supertank got its guns trained on this fort we would have been toast."

He heard more raucous laughter coming from a campfire near the sleek Armata IFV.

"...And Sgt. Lugo and his crew would have been overrun if not for Captain Bylinkin's subordinate showing up in a timely fashion to save the day."

The lieutenant leaned both elbows against the sandbagged top of the wall.

"I got word from Professor Colbert, and it's official. The AC-130 gunship is up and running and airworthy again. If those Reconquista bastards still have any fight in them then ol' Spooky will wipe the floor with `em."

Crosby felt a belch coming up, and tried to suppress it. It didn't work, as McPherson paused for a moment and leaned in, taking a deep whiff.

"Sergeant, is that booze I smell on your breath?"

The sergeant gave an apologetic smile.

"Part of the cultural exchange, sir. It was mostly just an excuse to drink hard liquor."

McPherson gave a smile.

"Drinking on duty is against the regs, sergeant. I'm afraid I'll have to order you confined to your rack for the next eight hours."

He patted the sergeant on the shoulder-guard.

"Go get some rest and sleep it off, that'll be all, sergeant."

* * *

><p><strong>(0600 Local Tristain Time, the following morning)<strong> (BGM: Truth Revealed)

It was almost dawn, when one of the watchmen noticed a rider approaching from the south. He immediately fired a shot in the air.

"Rider approaching! Go tell the Outworlders!"

McPherson was the first roused from his improvised bed and ran up the stairs, pulling on his tunic over a tee-shirt. He saw the sentry who sounded the alarm.

"Trouble?"

The sentry shook his head.

"A lone rider, sir, he says he brings word from Dunkerque."

McPherson processed the information, then nodded.

"Open the gates and let him in."

He snapped his fingers at one of the other Sharpshooters.

"Go awaken Lt. Bowles and Sergeant Crosby, make sure everyone's on the ready, in case this is a false flag operation."

All of the soldiers gather around the man. As Crosby and McPherson tried to jostle through the crowd they could only make out snippets of what the soldiers were saying.

"Impossible! We wiped out the Reconquista, they never made it past us!"

"We have been decieved, then this means this battle was but a feint!"

McPherson pushed his way through the throng of Sharpshooters.

"What the hell is going on here? Make sense, dammit!"

The Sharpshooter threw a sloppy imitation of a salute.

"Sir Richilieu reporting in! I must speak with Lord General Konrad!"

"Konrad flew back to Tristainia last night. You can report to me in his stead."

The man gulped nervously and stood at attention.

"I-it's my regrettable duty to inform you that the fortress Dunkerque was laid siege by a massive army of Reconquista-aligned Gallian soldiers!"

Sgt. Crosby and the other soldiers of the 33rd pushed their way to where Lt. McPherson was. A cold feeling like a knife stabbed him in the gut, and he fought down a feeling of dread.

"You mean that Dunkerque is under siege? Then we haven't a moment to lose!"

He turned to Crosby.

"Sergeant, get with Bowles and get Big Ugly in the air, pronto! Lugo you go tell Captain Bylinkin and his Warrant Officer that we'll need their tanks again to help relieve the siege-"

"...It's no use..."

Both soldiers stopped, and a pregnant silence descended down. McPherson's heart sank, but he still turned to Sir Richilieu and sternly rebuked him.

What the hell are you saying, man? Make sense, is Dunkerque under siege or not?!"

The Sharpshooter shook his head.

"I-it's over...Dunkerque fell within a matter of hours to the Reconquista..."

McPherson tried to process the words that Sir Richileu spoke. Dunkerque fallen. The words tore through his being worse than the bullets in Dubai. How could that be? Quickly he looked over the battlefield again. No. It couldn't be possible. Was the Battle for Brugues just a feint? He snapped out of his gloom and found that the Sharpshooter had continued talking.

"...hey-they had siege engines like yours, but theirs were beyond number, with stone Golems, and repeating rifles, we didn't stand a chance!"

"W-what about survivors?"

McPherson turned and saw Alex had also elbowed his way into the circle, and the young private's blue eyes were wide with fright as he spoke.

"D-did you see Agnès de Milan? Is she alright?!"

The Sharpshooter shook his head.

"I am sorry, Outworlder. They left no survivors!"

McPherson was stunned, that wasn't war, that was a massacre, bordering on genocide. The lieutenant recalled his interactions with the Reconquista and knew they were capable of committing horrific crimes, but this went beyond the pale. Then his blood froze as McPherson saw Alex's face change; from horror, to sorrow, to blank look. It was the same vacant look in his eyes as his older brother, and those dead eyes were staring at the surviving Sharpshooter. Sir Richilieu quailed under the private's gaze, and babbled rapidly.

""I-I'm sorry, but I had to flee! They were killing everyone! Surrendering soldiers, commoners, even women and children! I barely got out with my life!"

Alex just stared at the man as if he were an apparition. Then without warning, he drew his M9 sidearm and fired four shots into the Sharpshooter's chest. At point-blank range the 9mm bullets easily tore through the man's steel breastplate and punctured vital organs. Sir Richilieu looked down in shock at the bullet holes on his chest as he sank to his knees.

"Wait...it wasn't...supposed...to end...like thi-"

He didn't even finish his last words as a final bullet punched through his skull, and the Sharpshooter fell backwards. The private regarded the corpse coldly.

"You're right, no survivors."

Alex rasped the words out in a voice that was not his own. All the other soldiers instinctively pulled their weapons, although none were trained on the young private. All except Lt. McPherson, who gingerly approached the private with his hands raised in placating manner.

"Private Walker, I know you're in a lot of pain, and I can help you sort this out, but first I need you to lower your weapon."

McPherson edged closer, and saw Crosby raising his P90, and gave a curt shake of his head. The lieutenant looked back at the private, who still had his M9 trained on the dead body. The Zulu Squad sergeant spoke up.

"Sir, with respect, the private's gone, look at his eyes..."

"Duly noted, sergeant, that will be all."

He turned back to the private, who looked up at him. The blank look was gone, now the private's blue eyes were now bright with tears. He gave the lieutenant a small sad smile.

"I-I don't think I should have done that, should've I, sir?"

Absently he looked down, and stared at the M9 pistol, as if wondering how it got into his hand. He looked over to McPherson, who had froze, his hands still up.

"It's okay, Alex, we'll get through this, I promise..."

After a long pregnant minute, Alex lowered his weapon, reversed the grip and offered it to McPherson, butt-first.

"I'm sorry, sir."

McPherson gently took the weapon from Alex and gave a friendly smile.

"It's okay, private."

He took the private by the elbow.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get you home."

He shot Crosby a meaningful look, so the sergeant turned around to see the Sharpshooters, who had watched the scene unfold. He could see surprise, shock, fear, and even anger in their eyes. Some had even raised their weapons, although they hadn't aimed them at anyone. Luckily for them.

The Zulu Squad sergeant heard the ratcheting rasp of a weapon cocking, and he glanced back to see Captain Bylinkin manning the .50 cal on top of his tank. The large barrel was pointed at the group of Sharpshooters, and as he exchanged a glance with the Soviet officer he knew Vasya would back him up. The Russian's hard eyes spoke volumes of his resolve. Crosby also heard whirring noise, and turned again to see the T-15 Armata's turret rotate and its autocannon also pointing at the angry Sharpshooters. Feeling strengthened, he turned and glared at the assembled soldiers, and spoke in his most commanding voice.

"Take a good look at this-"

He gave Sir Richilieu's corpse a savage kick. The desecration wasn't lost on the Sharpshooter, and one took a step forward, only to be stopped by the loud report of the T-15's autocannon firing a warning shot. The ground in front of the Tristainian soldier erupted, and the man wisely backed down. Crosby continued.

"You take a good look at this cowardly lump of shit...He abandoned his post to save his own skin..."

Crosby trained his cold blue eyes onto the Sharpshooters, and saw that it was having the effect he wanted. Slowly they were lowering their weapons. He continued.

"...This coward was, and is, a deserter, and a disgrace. He was a disgrace to his family name, to his country and to her Majesty Henrietta's Royal Sharpshooter Corps. His cowardice disgraces even you by association. In all probability cost the lives of his comrades..."

He saw the assembled men lower their heads as if sharing the dead man's shame. Now, Crosby thought, was the moment to deliver the kicker.

"I know you are angry at what Private Walker did, but the reality is that he executed Sir Richilieu for abandoning his post. Take good look at this corpse, and know that if you do the same you will share in his fate."

He shouldered his P90.

"Make no mistake gentlemen, desertion will not be tolerated and will be met with the strictest punitive measures."

He turned to go.

"That is all, dismissed."

_(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUUNNNN! Talk about a cruel twist...all for naught. Am I a horrible person for having this chapter sketched out way, way back when the 1st battle of Tristain was concluded? I thought to myself, how do make such a plot twist that echos the themes of SO:TL? Well, here you have it...poor, poor Alex. Although anyone genre savvy enough should have known something bad was coming, as Alex/Agnes were So Happy Together._

_And it looks like poor Alex has finally succumbed to the dark side, turning into his older brother. Such a shame, he had come so far...What will happen now?! Will Tristain be overrun? Or will the Damned 33rd avenge Dunkerque and destroy the Reconquista once and for all? Stay tuned and don't touch that dial!)_


	142. Wrong Side of Heaven

**(At The Seaside Cottage of Country Ollman)**

Captain Handwaver was livid. He did not articulate it in speech, but his stalking gait spoke volumes of his foul mood and he climbed the rough timber steps that led up to Country Ollman's cottage. The entity in question to whom Captain Handwaver's wrath was directed was seated in a lawn chair on the porch adjacent to the cottage, sipping a mojito with his female companion.

Captain Pelayo was dressed simply in MARPAT ACU trousers and a OD brown tank top, although sporting her mirrored aviators to shield her eyes from the shining sun. Her shoulders and neck were benefiting from the sunlight, and she seemed in high spirits. She spoke to her host as she finished her drink.

"...All I gotta say is, in this next gig you'd better not be putting me in another corset and have me eat a poisoned apple or get my finger pricked on a cursed spinning wheel..."

Country shrugged as he took another sip.

"Eh, we'll see. Like I said, these stories sometimes take on a life unto themselves."

He set down the drink.

"And speaking of fairy tales and princesses, a little bird told me that you're sitting out Operation Arendelle, what gives?"

The female Marine let out an unladylike snort as she stood up with her empty glass.

"Did Merlin rat me out?"

Country gave an impish grin.

"No need for that, I'm the one pulling the strings, remember?"

That earned a laugh from Pelayo as she refilled her glass with ice cubes at the small bar tray by the grille.

"One of these days I'm going to have a come-to-Jesus-meeting with old Spinach Chin...I swear he's sending us on these wild goose chases for his own amusement."

She gave her jaunty host a sidelong glance.

"And I wouldn't swear that all these ridiculous situations that somehow involve me being in a state of perpetual undress isn't your doing."

Country shrugged.

"Hey, sweetie if I wanted you to have a wardrobe malfunction or get naked you would be, I'd just have to write it in. I prefer a more...indirect approach. Makes it all the more interesting, when the Tapestries take on a life of their own."

He reached into his pocket and pulled his pipe.

"And besides, you didn't answer my question."

Captain Pelayo finished adding rum to her glass and topped it off with soda water and spoke up in a sarcastic voice.

"I thought you'd already know the answer to that, Country the Almighty."

Her host chuckled again.

"Almighty Country, sounds like the name for a Nu Metal Western fusion band, and blasphemous, to boot. You're right, but I'd rather hear it from the marine's mouth, so to speak."

She took a sip and shrugged.

"Like I told the sar'ent major and the colonel, a helo driver would stick out like a sore thumb in medieval storybook version of Scandinavian. Besides, it's just an observe and report mission, nothing fancy."

The female marine took a deep swig from her drink and caught her host snickering as he lit his pipe.

"Alright, Country, what gives?"

Country took a puff from his pipe and looked up innocently.

"Hmm? What in all of the Celestial Empyrean are you talking about?"

Pelayo stood up, smirking herself.

"Don't give me that innocent look, mister."

She walked over and threw one leg over his lap and sat down, so she was straddling him. And almost upsetting his drink in the process.

"I know that look! What twist do you have in store for them?"

Country shrugged as he set his pipe down.

"Nothing. And besides, it's nothing that concerns you."

He grinned as he spoke in a mocking sing-song voice.

"And because you're not going, I don't have to tell you, so there."

The marine captain ran her fingers through her host's sandy hair, and let her fingertip trace it's way down to his chest. She lowered her voice into a sultry timber.

"You know, in Marine Force Recon training they taught us enhanced interrogation methods."

She leaned in, so her face was mere inches from his.

"The Marine Corps has ways of making you talk, Country."

Country smile and was about to speak when he heard someone clearing their throat. Frowning he looked around. It was Barnaby's day off, so it must be a visitor. He looked up and saw a dog with a black and white fur coat standing at the top of the steps, glowering at him.

"Ah, so you did join us after all!"

The border collie that was Captain Handwaver opened his mouth and had an angry retort in mind, but the female Marine beat him to it.

"Oh, that's so cute!"

She stood up and ran over to the dog, kneeling beside him.

"Oooh, look at you! Such a handsome doggie!"

The dog frowned.

"Madam, I need to have a word with Mr. Ollman, I would ask that you step aside and-"

He abruptly stopped as Pelayo started scratching his head behind his ears.

"Oh yes! That feels soooo gooood! Yesyesyes! Please scratch lower!"

Pelayo smiled as the dog thumped his bushy tail on the porch.

"Who's a good boy? Whooo's a good boy!?"

Finally she stood up.

"That's one fine dog you got there, Country. Well, I'll be right back, I gotta go use the little girl's room."

After the Marine left, the dog stopped thumping his tail and turned his head to watch her. Then, as if coming back to his senses, he continued to glare at Country Ollman. The odd man smiled at the dog.

"What's the matter, Captain Handwaver? I thought you liked being petted."

Captain Handwaver glared at him.

"Sir, I am as much of a fan of a good wheeze as the next man, but this is taking it entirely too bloody far!"

Country reached behind him.

"Well, I think I can find something that will make things all better..."

He then produced a red rubber ball.

"How about a ball!?"

Immediately Captain Handwaver went into a pacing frenzy.

"Oh YES! Yesyesyes! Pleasegivemetheball! Pleasegivemetheball!"

Country held the ball just out of reach of the dog.

"You want it? You want it?"

He threw it like a baseball.

"Go fetch it!"

The dog took off at a breakneck speed, chasing down the ball, tail wagging and tongue lolling behind him. In his absence a familiar figure wearing an impeccable evening wear approached Country, carrying a bundle of clothes. The host looked up a the newcomer.

"Ah, Mr. Handwaver, good of you to come."

The man nodded and responded in RP English.

"Thank you, Lord Country, I just stopped by to drop off the uniform, you'll find that it has been cleaned and pressed."

Country nooded.

"Good, I think I'll have you go back to the handwaving from now on. At least for the time being."

As they were talking the border collie that was Captain Handwaver trotted back with the ball in his mouth, and his glare had returned. With an unceremonious _ptooey!_ he spat the ball out at Country's feet.

"I hate you."

Country shrugged.

"Why is that? I thought you wanted the ball."

He looked up at Mr. Handwaver the Magician.

"You two are already acquainted, I suppose?"

The well-dressed man nodded.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did take the liberty of warning Captain Handwaver against antagonizing you, M'Lord."

The dog glared up at Mr. Handwaver.

"Arse-licker."

The man in the tux simply shrugged haughtily.

"Says the dog."

Country sat back down and took another sip of the his mojito.

"Well, Rex- you do like Rex, don't you? What do you think of a nice walk on the beach with Pelayo and myself?"

The dog glared at him again.

"For starters, my name is Captain Handwaver, and second I would rather endure any and all forms of torture than suffer the humiliation of being led on like a dog to help advance your romantic intentions with a mortal."

Country looked pensive.

"Is that your final answer, Rex?"

The dog snorted.

"That is not my name, and yes, it bloody well is!"

The strange man gave an evil smile, and glanced over to the magician.

"Mr. Handwaver Would you be a dear and do an errand for me?"

The man had accidentally upset the drink tray and was clumsily trying to stop the avalanche.

"Er, certainly, just a minute!"

He stood back up, standing in the now empty punch bowl.

"Erm, For what purpose?"

Country looked down at the dog.

"Oh, nothing much, just a quick trip to the store and pick up a few things. Oh yes, and on your way back, take Rex to the vet and get him neutered."

Captain Handwaver let out a whimper and did the canine equivalent of crossing his hindlegs.

"You wouldn't dare!"

The host shrugged.

"I hate to do it, but as it stands you have two choices, you can either be a good boy and tag about with me and the Captain for a nice romantic stroll or you get your balls lopped off."

The dog lowered it's head and muttered something.

"I'm sorry, Rex, I didn't catch that?"

Captain Handwaver raised his head and glared at the human.

"I said I would very much like to go on a walk, could I please get the lead?"

As if on cue Pelayo emerged, and Country smiled at her.

"Heya toots! Guess what? Rex over here wants to go for a walk, how about it?"

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Well, I figured I'd throw in a bit of humor before we get back into the darkness that will follow in this arc of the story. And, concerning the feedback I've gotten from the last chapter, but all I can say is wow. I was expecting a reaction to the twist, but I never expected this. I haven't seen such a reaction since Louise kissed Siesta back in the 'Military Alphabet' story arc. <em>

_For those who were curious, if the Battle of Brugues felt surreal and videogamey where the enemy was just serving as cannon fodder and the outcome was never in doubt, without the life or death feel that the Battle of Tristian had, well that was what I was going for. The Battle of Brugues, like SO:TL, was completely unnecessary, it never needed to happen. And now the 33rd have to deal with the consequences. There is a faint glimmer of hope, even as it is always darkest just before the dawn, but Alex and co will have to go through alot before they see the light._

_For those curious, I was basing Vasya off Wilhem Dafoe circa Platoon, love that chiseled face with the scars, and it fits perfectly with the gruff Russian accent that I envision him having._

_Petya is Evgeniy Antropov, he is a Russian actor and has that nice youthful look that fits perfectly with Petya's Mildly Military deconstruction of a Soviet Prapor._

_Misha is your stereotypically crusty old veteran NCO from any War Film. Pick one._

* * *

><p><em>"I spoke to God today, and she said that she's ashamed.<em>  
><em>What have I become, what have I done?<em>  
><em>I spoke to the Devil today, and he swears he's not to blame.<em>  
><em>And I understood, cause I feel the same.<em>

_Arms wide open, I stand alone._  
><em>I'm no hero, and I'm not made of stone..."<em>

"Wrong Side of Heaven" -Five Fingered Death Punch

* * *

><p>It was almost noon when the gates to Tristainia were flung open, admitting the soldiers who defended Brugues, who were greeted to the din of a roaring crowd. It seemed as though every denizen of Tristainia, both noble and commoner, had turned out to welcome the returning heroes of Brugues. Every man, woman and child were cheering them on, even the guards posted to keep order were grinning merrily and in a festive mood, while young maidens threw rose petals and bouquets of wildflowers in the path of the rumbling siege engines.<p>

But the mood of the soldiers were decidedly restrained. There were no cheers of joy on the lips of the Sharpshooters, and the two Outworlders that were visible were downright dour in their moods. The overall somber mood was more indicative of a funeral procession than a victory parade. Even the tanks seem subdued as they clattered across the cobblestones in single file, one T-55 in the lead with the Armata towing the damaged tank behind it. Overhead the Mi-24 Hind buzzed with its distinctive chopping noise as the blades cut through the air, following the column of tanks.

On top of the Armata Sgt. Lugo moodily stared at the cheering crowds they drove past, leaning against his Scout Tactical. The black-clad Zulu Squad sergeant was seated on the other side, still except for irritatedly brushing aside stray garlands or flowers that landed on his armor. The sounds of treads clattering on the pavement accompanied by the rumble of the Armata's diesel engine and the cheers of the crowd. Finally it was the Delta sniper snorted.

"This is totally fucked, man."

Crosby looked up.

"Come again?"

Lugo gestured back in the general direction of Brugues and Dunkerque, then over to the crowd.

"A lot of people died back there, and these idiots are cheering us as if we're heroes."

"They don't know about Dunkerque, Lugo. If they knew we'd be a panic on our hands. We have to stay frosty and report what happened."

The Delta operator glared at Crosby.

"And speaking of which, what the fuck was that back there with the private? You looked like you were about ready to shoot him!"

The older sergeant shook his head.

"Alex was lost...is lost, and if he snapped I wasn't about to let him go on killing people."

He returned Lugo's glare.

"He was acting like his older brother, something you should be well familiar with!"

Lugo leaned forward, his black gloved hands curling into fists.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Sergeant?!"

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Crosby was about to make a retort that would have escalated things, but was interrupted by the gunner's hatch opening. A pair of blue eyes looked up at both the men, and instantly their anger was quenched at the sight of Siesta's frightened face.

"John? What's wrong?"

Lugo quickly lowered his head, his choler replaced with shame.

"It's-it's nothing Siesta."

The maid's eyes shifted from her husband to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"You two were fighting, was it about Alex shooting the deserter?"

Crosby didn't respond but Lugo sensed that the old sergeant's face was also flushed with shame behind his skull balaclava.

"It's complicated sweetie, but I promise we're not fighting, okay?"

Siesta nodded uncertainly, and lowered herself back into the tank's interior. Before she shut the hatch, she called up.

"Petya says we're getting close to the palace, and he said that 'the external PA is still on so Yankees must watch language' whatever that means...I didn't understand what you were saying but it sounded bad..."

Before Lugo could get an embarrassed reply the hatch clanged shut. Neither soldier spoke for the rest of the journey. As the column of tanks approached the palace gates the crowd had swollen to a throng, and it as everything the palace guards could do to keep the people at bay. Finally when the last man went through the gate the heavy wooden doors slammed shut, muting the roar of the crowd. The column of tanks ground to a stop in the middle of the courtyard. The Mi-24 Hind landed, and taxied over to where the tanks stood idling. As the engines spooled down and the blades slowed the side hatch lifted up, the bottom unfolded into a step-down. Two figures immediately disembarked and made their way to the palace.

Standing on the steps that led up to the palace was non other than Colonel John Konrad. He was there waiting for them, his stern face betrayed none of the churning emotions that stirred within. Sgt. Crosby dismounted from the Russian IFV and joined the two figures as they approached the steps. As they got closer Konrad was shocked at the lack of emotion on the boy's face. It jarred him, and an uncomfortable memory of Afghanistan resurfaced. The colonel recalled that Alex's older brother had the same expression, or lack thereof after the incident in Kabul. Konrad wondered if the boy's mental state was as broken as Captain Walker's. The three soldiers came up to one step beneath Konrad, and the first, Lt. McPherson saluted.

"Sir, Private Walker, as requested, sir."

Konrad nodded, and cleared his throat.

"Private First Class Alexander Walker, as your commanding officer I am here to inform you that you have been accused of a friendly fire incident in Brugues, and as a result, there will be an Article 32 hearing to find out the facts. I also am informing you that at this time no charges have been filed against you, nor will charges be considered until the conclusion of the hearing. If, and only if the hearing finds you guilty will you be charged."

He paused. There had been no reaction from Alex, the young soldier stared straight ahead without moving a muscle. The colonel continued, undeterred.

"Because of concerns voiced by the officers I am asking you to turn in your weapons and gear to the quartermaster. Until the time of the hearing consider yourself on administrative leave."

There was still no response as the private continued his thousand yard stare. Konrad softened his voice.

"Private...Alex, if you want someone to talk to about your...experience, if you need someone to give advice we're all here for you. We're here to help you get through this, Alex. Do you understand?"

The young private's face betrayed no emotion, and his blue eyes seemed empty and without life as he continued to stare off into the distance. Finally he spoke up in a mechanical voice.

"I understand, sir."

Konrad sighed internally, but he nodded.

"Very well, dismissed, Private."

He glanced over to Lt. McPherson.

"Lieutenant, you will escort Private Walker to his quarters and supervise securing his weapons and gear. Afterwards I need you and all the other soldiers to report back to the barracks for debriefing in one hour. No exceptions."

"Understood, sir."

He turned and saw the two Russian soldiers approach. The senior Russian officer saluted.

"Comrade Colonel, Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin reporting in."

Konrad returned the salute, then glanced over to the crowd of teenaged mages who had came back from the battle of Brugues.

"Captain Bylinkin, I want you to take the T-15 Armata and return the students back to the Academy of Magic."

The colonel reached into the breast pocket of his ACU's and produced a letter. He then lowered his voice, and switched to Russian.

"I need you to deliver this sealed envelope to Professor Colbert, this is for his eyes only. Tell him he is to follow the instructions in that letter to the tee, is that understood?"

Vasya gave a smile.

"Certainly, Comrade Colonel, but why the secrecy and why tell me this in the Mother tongue?"

Konrad's eyes clicked over to the other soldiers who were milling about.

"Things will be revealed in due time, Captain, until then can I count on you?"

The Soviet officer's face became grave, and he nodded.

"It will be done, Comrade Colonel. One more thing."

"What's that, Captain?"

The old Russian jerked a thumb at the students.

"Do they know?"

"About Dunkerque? No, they don't. As of now only the Princess will be debriefed. We don't want a panic on our hands."

Vasya nodded.

"Understood."

He saluted and turned, marching towards the students. The colonel saw the junior Soviet officer saunter over, his hands in his pockets. When he spoke English it was in a similarly thick Russian accent.

"So, you must be Colonel Konrad, Vasya has told much about you."

The colonel gave a light chuckle.

"Good things, I hope."

Petya shrugged.

"Eh, he said you weren't a bad sort, for a Yankee. At least you speak the Mother tongue."

The colonel cleared his throat.

"Praporshchik Mironov, I have...a favor to ask."

The junior officer smiled and pointed over to the damaged tank.

"Let me guess, you want Petya to repair the T-55, yes?"

Konrad nodded.

"I understand you're not under our command, but your expertise would be appreciated."

This time Petya laughed.

"Hah! Just try and stop me, Comrade Colonel, you couldn't keep me away from our beloved T-55 even if you tried."

He started to roll up the sleeves of his tanker coveralls.

"If you have any blacksmiths on hand, send them my way, otherwise I will be working on the tank."

* * *

><p>As Vasya started over towards the group of students he heard someone call his name. He looked over his shoulder and saw the older sergeant in black and white armor approach. He smiled to himself. Sgt. Crosby was a good NCO, and reminded him of his own <em>Starshina<em> in more ways than one.

"Captain Blylinkin, a moment."

The Soviet officer smiled at Crosby.

"Is Vasya, please, we're all friends here, yes?"

Crosby nodded and pointed out one of the students in the group, a girl with bright red hair.

"When you're demobilizing the students I especially need you to make sure to get the grenade launcher that Big Red is holding. But fair warning, she'll probably put up a fight."

Vasya glanced back at the girl. It wasn't just her oddly-colored hair that caused the captain to raise an eyebrow, it was her very ample bust that was shamefully on display.

"What is Big Red going to do, smother me with _grúdi_?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled.

"Don't laugh, she can. Just be sure to get the grenade launcher, and don't get injured or smothered in the process."

The Russian laughed.

"Bah, you just watch Vasya in action. He will get popgun from Big Red."

Vasya strode up to the assembled students, they were all a little dirty and worse for the wear, but in good spirits. He barked a quick order.

"Attention! I want all of your attention now!"

When the din died down and all eyes were on him, the Russian continued.

"All of you mages have fought well in the Battle for Brugues..."

He glanced over to where Guiche and his two friends were standing.

"...Some of you would even get medals, if you were soldiers in Soviet Army."

The Soviet officer saw the blond fop give a beaming smile.

"...however, now that the war is over for you, it is time to demobilize."

When he saw the curious looks the group of teenagers were giving him, he shrugged.

"It means you go back to being students, not soldiers any more."

He looked over to the redhead, who was clutching the MGL grenade launcher to her breast as if it were an infant.

"That means you too, Big Red. That grenade launcher is not toy doll."

Kirche let out a huff, and puffed out her already impressive bosom.

"Hmph! I am Kirche von Zerbst, known as Kirche the Ardent! I am destined to wield the Staff of Destruction!"

Vasya glanced down at her overexposed skin and shrugged.

"Staff of what? No matter. So what you are fiery, that makes you qualified to fire _granatomyot_?"

He held out his hand.

"Now come on. No more joking around, be good _devotcha_ and hand it over."

A sly smile crossed Kirche's lips, and she pounced without warning, intent on overwhelming the older Russian officer with her charms. And by charms she of course meant her bust. But, as quick as she was, Captain Bylinkin was quicker, he sidestepped out of the path of the charging redhead, and neatly snatched the MGL out of her hands as she charged past. Kirche realized too late what had happend, as she tried to grasp at the weapon she tripped over a stone and face-planted into the ground. When she looked up the busty redhead gave Vasiliy a pouty face.

"You're no fun!"

Vasya glanced up to see the Yankee NCO smiling and giving him the thumbs-up, then he smirked as he quipped in Russian.

"_Russo Tankisto, obliko morale! Verstehen?" _

* * *

><p>The silver goblet clattered to the floor, staining the throne room's pristine white marble with purple-red wine.<p>

"...no...it's not possible..."

All of the color in Henrietta's face was drained out, and her blue eyes were shining with tears. A gloved hand covered her mouth and for a full minute she just sat there in shock as servants hastily mopped up the spilled goblet she dropped. Finally she stood up unsteadily, and swayed. Only Konrad's quick reflexes saved her from falling, instead she collapsed into the older colonel's arms. Konrad fought down a flush in his ears, and quickly stared at the empty throne room, he had Princess Henrietta dismiss her entire court, as his debriefing was for her ears only. He continued.

"I'm afraid not, Princess Henrietta. The Reconquista, aligned with Gallia, took Dunkerque and if the reports are to be believed, massacred all of its inhabitants. Our sources indicate they plan to push into Tristain blitzkrieg style within days."

As he spoke, Konrad felt slight spasms coming from the princess's shoulders, and the rest of her body. It took him a few minutes to realize she was crying.

"I-I'm sorry your Highness, the Damned 33rd have failed again to protect your kingdom."

He closed his eyes, but then he heard a small voice.

"...no...this wasn't your fault."

He opened his eyes and saw Henrietta was looking up at him. His ACU blouse was soaked, and her face was flushed and her eyes were still brimming with tears, but there was anger, and stern resolution in her expression.

"You saved Brugues...just as you will save Dunkerque. And when we do, we will stop the Reconquista, we will stamp out them out for good!"

She continued to stare up at him, her eyes shimmering.

"Please, you can stop them, can't you?"

There was a haunted look in the colonel's eyes, and sadness.

"Yes. Yes, there is one way, Henrietta. We have a weapon, a weapon that has the power to stop them, once and for all."

His words stunned the princess, and finally she spoke.

"Just one weapon?"

Konrad nodded.

"This one weapon is powerful, your Highness. It has the power to level mountains, to lay waste to entire armies."

He smiled grimly.

"It will get the job done, trust me."

The colonel looked down at saw the princess was smiling.

"Then we must use this magnificent weapon!"

But her smiled faltered as she saw the grave look on Konrad's face.

"You don't want to know, you Highness. All you need to know is that it is a very powerful, very terrible weapon that will end this war. If you give me leave to wield it I will, but so destructive and evil is this weapon that I can't sully your hands by commanding me to use it."

Confusion ran across Henrietta's face, and she spoke again in a frightened voice.

"T-this weapon, is it black magic, or demonic?"

The colonel shrugged.

"It might as well be. But it end the war, and save thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of lives."

Henrietta nodded once, and straightened herself up. She walked back to her throne and raised her scepter.

"Let it be know that I, Princess Henrietta give you, Lord General John Konrad of the 33rd, leave to use this terrible weapon."

* * *

><p><strong>(One hour later, at the 33rd's barracks...)<strong>

Lugo's eyes widened.

"You can't be serious, sir! This is fucking insane!"

Lt. Gordon took a step forward.

"Sergeant, you're out of line."

Konrad nodded to the officer.

"Enough lieutenant, let Sergeant Lugo say his peace."

The Delta sniper removed his ballcap and shook his head.

"I'm getting bad flashbacks to Dubai, sir. What the Reconquista did was monstrous, if it's true..."

The colonel sighed. He knew there would be conflict at the announcement, even though most of the soldiers present knew the score. Konrad had left instructions in that sealed envelop for Colbert to fuel up the AC-130 gunship and ready for takeoff, and have it armed with the white phosphorus ordnance. As soon as he received confirmation from the professor that Spooky was ready to fly, the 33rd would enact Operation Righteous Fury, in which they would use the gunship's white phosphorus ordnance to destroy Dunkerque, decimating the Reconquista's invasion army and sending a message to King Jozef. They would give him terms of unconditional surrender, and if he refused they would use the ordnance on Lutèce, Gallia's capital. He turned his attention back to Lugo, who continued.

"...But what if the messenger was wrong? What if there are still innocent civilians, or hostages alive?"

A hoarse voice spoke up behind Lugo.

"Fuck `em. I say kill `em all."

All eyes turned around to see PFC Walker standing in the doorway. He was dressed only in his fatigues, but what struck everyone, including Crosby, was how much Alex had aged. The boy's face was lined, and dark bags had formed under the private's eyes, which were bloodshot from crying. Alex's calloused words stunned all the soldiers, from Konrad on down. It was Lugo who spoke first.

"Jeezus Kerrist, Alex? Do you even hear what you're saying? You know what that shit'll do to them-"

The Delta sniper was interrupted as Alex's fist lashed out and struck him on the mouth, sending Lugo reeling.

"Fuck you, Delta boy! I know damn well what you and Adams and Marty did to the 33rd at the Gate, I saw it! And I'm telling you I don't give a shit!"

Lugo staggered back, a small smear of red oozed from his lower lip. He glared at the private.

"That was different! Your brother didn't give us a choice! He turned us into killers!"

"Yeah, didn't stop you from pulling the trigger and barbecuing 47 innocent civilian and my buddies!"

That was the last straw, and with a snarl Lugo lunged at Alex, only to be held in check by Sgt. Crosby. The scuffle only lasted a few seconds before a loud voice shouted out.

"ENOUGH!"

Konrad used his command voice, and it was still sufficient to cause both soldiers to freeze in their tracks. The colonel glared at Alex.

"Private, you're already in some deep shit, don't make me add assault to the list of charges!"

When the private relented, Konrad switched his gaze to Lugo.

"Sergeant Lugo, I will listen to you dissent, but I will not have you adding fuel to an already volatile sitch, is that understood?"

The Delta sniper shrugged out of Crosby's grip and sullenly nodded.

"Understood, sir."

Lt. Bowles took a step forward.

"Sir, I agree with Alex's sentiment, if not his exact words."

He nodded at the map where the fortress of Dunkerque was now labeled as 'Enemy Stronghold."

"If these primitive screwheads want to play with fire, I say let's show `em how badly they can be burned."

Then SSG Forbes spoke up. Aside from a slight limp, the sergeant seemed to be in perfect health, a far cry from his injuries the day before. When he arrived at the debriefing he had smiled at their shocked expressions and answered the question on everyone's mind. The magical healers knitted up his broken ribs in no time flat, like magic. His fellow soldiers of the 33rd chalked up his miraculous healing to the bizarre world they were in. Now that Forbes had their attention, he continued.

"With all due respect with a superior officer, we need to do some recon, or something before we just rush in and bomb them back into the Stone Age. What if Sgt. Lugo's right, what if there's still civvies alive?"

Lt. Bowles retorted.

"With all due respect, your respect can kiss my ass, Forbes!"

He gestured to the map colored in red that was the Reconquista's territory.

"Those Reconquista bastards aren't known for their mercy, you didn't see what they did to Tebby, or my leg! And besides, time's one thing we don't have. If we wait too long they could use Dunkerque as a staging ground to launch a full-blown land invasion. And then we're fucked, with or without Spooky."

The colonel sighed as his officers and men continued to bicker like schoolchildren.

This is how it starts, he thought to himself, just like in Dubai after the botched evacuation. First the enlisted men start arguing with each other, taking sides. Then the officers get in on the action, and before long, you have a complete breakdown in the chain of command. Followed by a mutiny. He shuddered at the draconian steps he had to take to restore order, but his dark thoughts were interrupted by a new voice.

"There might be another way, John."

This caused both the officers to stop in their arguing and turn towards the door. Robert Darden, the Radioman was standing in the door. He chuckled to himself as he stepped into the room.

"Wow I leave you guys alone for five minutes and you're all fighting like kids in a playground!"

He sat there chuckling at his own wit. Crosby wasn't amused.

"Don't you have a playlist to be playing, Darden."

The Radioman held up his hands.

"Hey, hey, easy there buddy! Why so serious?"

When nobody got that joke, Darden shrugged and continued.

"All seriousness aside, I think there's a way to find out if there are any survivors still at Dunkerque."

He looked over to Lugo and Forbes.

"That way we don't have to worry about innocents being burned when Willy Pete makes his righteous hellfire debut in Dunkerque."

Sgt. Crosby frowned.

"How's that, Darden? It'd take days, maybe even weeks to infiltrate Dunkerque to get that info. Like Lt. Bowles said, in that time Jozef could be across the Tristainian border with his new hardware. Time is of the essence."

But the Radioman just grinned and reached into the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and produced a fist-sized black crystal. He causally tossed it to Crosby, who caught it in his hand. The Zulu Squad sergeant looked down at the object. It was smooth and without any feature, but in spite of it's smooth polished finish, he couldn't see his reflection.

"Ok, it's an oversized marble, what of it?"

Darden nodded over to the window.

"G'ahead, take it over to the window, and point it at the courtyard.

Crosby complied, and held it at the window frame. He looked back at the Radioman, who had produced a worn tablet with an apple icon on the back. As he powered it up Kornad spoke up.

"Alright, Robert, you have my attention, what gives?"

Darden continued to fiddle with the tablet's haptic interface, and then handed it to Konrad.

"Tell me what you see."

Konrad looked down, and saw a grainy image take shape. It came into focus, and he saw one of the T-55 tanks sitting in the courtyard. He looked back up at the Radioman, who was smiling.

"Try tapping the screen once, sir."

Konrad did, and immediately the entire screen was a wash of blue, with the exception of the rear of tank which was splashed with red and yellow, where the engine was still warm. He looked up in disbelief.

"That marble's a smaller version of the palantír like what I use in my radio broadcasts. Apparently this smaller stone works the same way and with some fiddling I got it to transmit the image to my Ipad."

He saw the disbelieving looks on the soldier's faces.

"And don't ask, it took about sixty percent tinkering and forty percent magic."

Konrad continued to stare at the image on the tablet screen, but then his face lit up with an idea and a smile.

"Gentlemen," he said as he looked back up at the puzzled faces of his men, "How many of you are old enough to remember Operation Rainbow?"

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

_grúdi: _Russian slang for breasts, interestingly the anglicized version 'groodies' show up as Nadsat slang in 'A Clockwork Orange'.

_granatomyot:_ Lit. Grenade launcher.

_'Russo Tankisto, obliko morale! Verstehen':_ Translates to "Russian Tanker has high moral standards, got it?"

_(AN: So...out of the ashes of grief for Dunkerque arises a burning hatred of the Reconquista. And speaking of burning, the time for Willy Pete to make his long-awaited appearance is approaching, and it will be a blast...literally. But they may not make the same mistakes that Captain Walker and co made at the Gate, the question is how? Well, stay tuned and find out!_

_Speaking of updates I'll be on the road next week so I don't know when I'll get around to the next update, hopefully soonish. The next chapter will be a slight interlude with Saito and Louise developing their relationship as they spend time at her estate. Until then!)_


	143. Love in Time of War

_(AN: Here's another chapter, with many thanks to trainalf and biohazard115 for their beta skills snd input. Alas, no Willy Pete in this chapter, but trust me the clock is counting down! In the meantime here's some much-needed lightheartedness...Enjoy!)_

"...with the high-resolution pictures taken at an altitude of 20,000 feet, we should be able to see heat signatures for warm bodies, be they enemy combatants, or prisoners."

Konrad looked around at the other soldiers. Even Sgt. Lugo, who had misgivings about it, seemed duly impressed. The colonel continued.

"This operation, which I am naming Operation Rainbow, will commence at 2300 hours. Questions?"

Forbes let out a low whistle.

"This thing could answer our questions and tell us where the hostages are, or if there's any still alive."

He looked over to Sgt. Lugo.

"Well, what do you think, Delta Boy? Think this would satisfy your objections?"

Lugo shrugged.

"I'm still not cool with using Willy Pete..."

He took off his ballcap and ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair.

"...but if it shows a mass grave then I guess they deserve to burn."

McPherson cleared his throat.

"Sir, it sounds like a good mission, but there's a problem. How we are going to perform this recon without being spotted?"

He nodded to the window.

"Our helicopters don't have the altitude to fly high enough not to be heard. And besides they could have airships or balloons keeping watch."

Lt. Gordon shrugged.

"Damn, if only the Lady in the White Light could have given us a U2 spyplane or something..."

The colonel smiled enigmatically as he looked at the doorway.

"I think I can answer all of your questions, gentlemen."

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft cough. All eyes turned towards the cough's origin, where a diminutive blue-haired girl with glasses and a stave half again as tall as she is was standing in the doorway. Forbes stepped forward.

"Tabitha? What the hell are you still doing here? I thought you gone with the others."

The blue-haired bookworm shook her head.

"Need my help."

Forbes looked back at the other soldiers and finally on Colonel Konrad. The older officer nodded.

"Tabitha, how can you help?"

The diminutive girl pushed her glasses off her nose.

"I volunteer my familiar. I will fly her to Dunkerque."

Immediately the colonel shook his head.

"I can't allow you to fly Sylphid out there, it's too dangerous for you."

As if on cue a taller girl who could have passed for Tabitha's older sister slid into the doorway, her face flushed. She made a sweeping gesture towards Tabitha.

"I can protect my big sister! You just watch me!"

Crosby had to chuckle at the dragon girl's impudence, and the colonel seemed to have the same sentiments.

"You've got guts, Syl-er-Illococoo, but Dunkerque is deep in enemy territory, and they'll have spotters looking."

He looked over to Tabitha.

"I can't allow your...big sister to fly with you."

A sly grin crossed Illococoo's face as she glanced over to the assembled soldiers.

"Okay, then Staff Sergeant Forbes can go! He's a soldier, right?"

That caught both Konrad and Forbes off guard.

"What?!" They both said in unison. Illococoo continued.

"Staff Sergeant Forbes is a soldier, so he can ride me into enemy territory and do recon!"

She paused, and wondered why some of the other soldiers, including the one in black armor, was snickering at her remark. Finally Konrad shrugged.

"Alright, I'll allow it."

He looked over to Robert Darden.

"Think you can get it rigged by this evening, Darden?"

The Radioman grinned.

"Does Pope Vittorio shit in the woods? No problemo man!"

Konrad smiled.

"Alright, then it's settled. Sergeant Forbes, you enact Operation Rainbow. You're to probe the enemy's defenses, find any weak spots, and see if you can locate survivors or hostages in Dunkerque. This mission is important; hundreds, if not thousands of lives are on the line. Think you can do that?"

The staff sergeant glanced over to the beaming Illococoo and shrugged.

"I'll need to pack an extra layer of thermal underwear, but other than that..."

The colonel nodded.

"Alright, Forbes, gear up and report to Sylphid in the Spring Courtyard at 2300 hours. Dismissed!"

Illococoo clapped her hands merrily.

"Oh wonderful! I get to stay up past my bedtime!"

The soldiers chuckled as the tall blue-haired girl followed Tabitha out, then filed out themselves. Konrad stopped his adjunct and his senior NCO as they passed.

"Lieutenant McPherson, Sergeant Crosby, a moment."

Both NCO and lieutenant paused.

"Sir?"

Konrad nodded at the last of the 33rd leaving.

"Crosby, I noticed that our specialist wasn't in attendance."

The normally stoic Zulu Squad sergeant swallowed nervously.

"Erm, yes sir, he-er was having dinner with the walking IED, I assumed-"

Konrad held up a hand.

"Relax, sergeant, in many ways I'm glad the kid wasn't here for this discussion."

Better Specialist Hiraga wasn't here to see the breakdown, the colonel thought. He continued.

"Crosby, McPherson, I have a special assignment for you. I need you both to take Specialist Hiraga and Miss Vallière to her mother's estate."

Crosby's eyes widened.

"Sir? But what about-"

Konrad cut him off.

"Sergeant, some bad shit's going to go down and I don't want the kid to be any part of it."

He paused, and McPherson spoke up.

"Sir? Saito-I mean Specialist Hiraga has been part of the 33rd for some time now, and he's seen combat, I don't want to make it seem like we're coddling him, sir."

The colonel seemed pensive, and looked over to the NCO.

"Thoughts, sergeant?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Sir, with respect to the lieutenant I disagree with his assessment. We've already lost Walker for all intents and purposes, I don't want to lose Saito as well. And, not to be too sappy, but I've grown to like the kid. He was my first friendly face in this weird world before we all RV'd, sir."

Konrad nodded sagely.

"Wise word, sergeant. McPherson, I'm afraid I'll have to overrule you on this. Saito goes, that's final."

The lieutenant, for his part, didn't seem to disappointed. Suddenly a light went off and he spoke up again.

"Speaking of which, sir, I understand why the sergeant is going on this mission, but why me? Won't you need help with the Article 32 hearing?"

Konrad smiled again.

"I think we can manage just fine, lieutenant. I'll bring Captain Bylinkin in if necessary. And besides, in sending you on this mission I'm fulfilling a promise I made."

A chill ran down the lieutenant's back.

"To whom, sir?"

Before Konrad could speak, a female voice piped up in the hallway.

"Ah, Lieutenant John McPherson you're back!"

A tall blonde girl wearing glasses and a crisp white blouse appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Éléonore de La Vallière clasped her hands together as she gazed at the young officer with shimmering eyes.

"You must come to Mother's estate!"

She looked over to the colonel.

"Lord General Konrad, I thank you for granting my request, I promise the lieutenant will be back if you need him."

Konrad grinned as she reached out and grabbed McPherson's hand.

"Come, we must find Chibi Louise and her commoner beau!"

The normally stoic lieutenant found himself at a loss for words as he tried to resist being pulled away by the overzealous girl.

"Er, but-sir?"

Konrad smiled as he sat back down at his desk.

"You heard the lady, Lieutenant, help her find Saito and the walking IED. Dismissed!"

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later)<strong>

Crosby checked the gauges in the copilot's seat as Saito advanced the PCL's for Engine 1 and Engine 2 from _Idle_ to_ Fly_, increasing the chopping tempo of the blades overhead. After he checked to make sure both engine temperature and oil pressure were in the green he glanced over his shoulder. Louise was seated perfectly composed, but her older sister Éléonore looked terrified out of her wits, and had a death-grip on McPherson's hand. The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled to himself as he spoke into his mic.

"Looks like Miss Bossy Boots is in for a wild ride, eh Saito?"

When nothing but static answered him Crosby glanced over and saw the normally chatty teen was silent, almost pensive. He also saw that Saito was clutching the cyclic in a white knuckle grip, even though the `bird had not lifted off yet. He keyed his mic.

"Problems, Saito?"

Saito glanced over.

_"What's that, sarge?"_

"Been awfully quiet since we started dust off procedures. Everything square?"

The teen switched off the APU boost and sighed.

_"It's just...well..."_

He gave Crosby a look.

_"Back there, in Brugues...when we were in the thick of it...is this what combat's always like?"_

The sergeant shrugged.

"It was not much different from the battle of Tristain. Actually it was less so. Why?"

Saito was silent for a long time, but then he mechanically spoke up.

_"All systems go, lifting off."_

Automatically Crosby responded.

"Roger that, lifting off."

He switched channels on his radio.

"McPherson, sir, be advised, we're lifting off."

There was a squawk in the static.

_"Roger that, sergeant, I hope my hand doesn't break in the meantime."_

The Black Hawk slowly lifted off, and over the din of the engines of the chopping blades Crosby heard a shriek of terror. He glanced back and saw Louise's older sister literally clutching McPherson's arm for dear life. The sergeant then glanced over to Saito, who was staring out over the horizon.

"Kid? What gives?"

Saito made slight adjustments to the cyclic and sighed.

_"I-I shot some men, Crosby-san. I-I mean I shot plenty of enemies when we were in the trench, and for a while I didn't think anything of it...they were so far away it was like in the video games."_

He paused for a moment before continuing.

_"But up on the supertank, I shot a couple of them at close range. I saw them just crumple before me. I felt nothing at the time, but now every time I think of that combat I think of those two crewmembers I killed...their faces..."_

The teen shook his head.

_"Then I realized it's nothing like in the video games."_

Crosby smiled ruefully.

"Yeah, playing Call of Duty won't prepare you for combat. Taking a life is no light matter, and the first time it happens can take a toll."

_What was it like for you, Crosby-san?"_

The sergeant sighed as old memories were dredged up.

"My first taste of combat was in the Anbar province. We had been in the Rockpile only a few weeks. I'll never forget it. We were on patrol on our lead HUMVEE hit an IED. We had driven right into an ambush, I remember firing frantically, desperate not to get hit."

Crosby shook his head.

"At the time I didn't realize it but I actually pissed myself when the second IED went off. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Like you, I didn't feel anything at the time, but I had nightmares about explosions for weeks afterwards."

_"Does it get easier?"_

He looked over to the teen.

"Not really, no. The killing gets easier, that's about it. When I was over there, either in the Rockpile or the Sandbox, all I wanted was to get back home. I'd be counting down the days and the happiest day of my life was when I became a single digit midget. Then, when I was stateside with Roxie and the kid, all I could think about was my buddies bleeding, and felt guilty that I wasn't there to help."

Crosby saw that Saito was looking at him intently.

"Look, kid I'll tell you, there's no set formula for coping. It's all part and parcel of being a soldier."

He gestured to the pinkette in the back.

"Find comfort in your girlfriend, especially since she's had to deal with the same thing."

The sergeant locked his eyes back on the windscreen and quipped.

"I certainly don't recommend ingesting a love potion, that's for sure."

That earned a laugh from Saito.

_"No, I don't need Louise having any more excuses for hitting me with her riding crop, that's for sure!"_

He glanced ahead.

_"Tell Lt. McPherson I've got eyes on the Vallière estate, ETA five mikes."_

Crosby smiled.

"Roger that."

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, at the Vallière Estate)<strong>

The head butler marched stiffly towards a large set of ornate wooden doors, and without pause pushed them open. Inside was an expansive study lined with bookcases and velvet paneled walls. A large desk sat in front of French doors that led out to a patio, and seated at the desk was the mistress of the household, Duchess Karin de La Vallière. She looked up from a letter she was writing.

"What is it, François?"

The butler gave a bow.

"Pardon the intrusion, Madam, but there is an Outworlder's airship approaching. It matches the description of the one that has come before."

The duchess coolly set the quill she was holding back into its ink reservoir and nodded.

"Very well. Assemble the household so they may welcome my daughters properly. I will receive them on the South Lawn."

As soon as her butler left, Karin sprang from her chair and rushed through the side door that communicated her study with her personal chambers. Quickly she crossed over to her boudoir and rang the servant's bell. Karin then sat down and sighed. She had, at most, five minutes to get ready. A door opened, and her chamber maid shyly poked her head in.

"You rang, madam?"

Karin recomposed herself.

"My daughters are arriving, so I must freshen up."

The maid approached with a brush, but the duchess shocked the girl by snatching the brush from her hand.

"Nevermind the brush, you silly girl! Fetch me a nice dress from the armoire and have it ready."

She started to brush her own hair, fighting down the warm flush that had started in the pit of her stomach. When the maid came into view of her reflection with a dress Karin shook her head.

"No, Hélène fetch my purple dress, the one the just arrived from Romalia."

The servant girl bowed deeply and went back into the armoire. As maid searched for the new dress the duchess went back to brushing her hair absently. She stared at her own reflection. Her own countenance that looked back at her wasn't much different from when she was but a young brash noble riding in the Manticore Knights. The pale skin on her face was still soft comely, lacking the scars that her surviving comrades sported. Briefly Karin s thought back to the last time 'he' was at the estate. She sighed to herself, recalling the handsome face of that stoic soldier with the beautiful blue eyes. Her thoughts were interrupted by the maid, who had returned.

"Excuse me madam, but your dress! I cannot find the lace cravat that it goes with!"

Karin fought down the blush and turned.

"Nevermind, I shall wear it without."

"B-but, madam, without the lace...it exposes much, er-"

The duchess eyed the servant coldly.

"I am not blind, Hélène, I know how much skin it shows, I wore it!"

"Well, yes madam, but-"

The Duchess de La Vallière flushed and gave a full glare to the unfortunate chamber maid.

"But nothing! I am receiving my own flesh and blood on a balmy summer evening, the cravat would make it intolerably hot. Now stop jabbering like a parrot and get the dress ready for me!"

* * *

><p><strong>(5 minutes later)<strong>

Karin de La Vallière stood on the balcony patio that overlooked the entire estate's grounds. At her feet were that lead down to the grounds, and an rapid chopping noise caught her attention. She looked up and watched as the large green airship flew around the estate in one full rotation, then slowly descended. When it touched the grounds she could hear the airship's engines lower in their cacophonous crescendo, and the spinning blades slowing down. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw one of the doors open and a figure in black and white armor get out.

Sgt. Crosby ducked and shielded himself from the chopper's downdraft as he slide open the hatch to the passenger compartment. Immediately Éléonore popped out like a jack-in-the-box, pulling Lt. McPherson behind her. Crosby chuckled again, the poor El-Tee didn't know how deep he was in. When Louise popped out and followed her sister, the Zulu Squad sergeant went to work securing the `bird. He pushed the last chocks under the wheels of the Black Hawk, then gave the pilot the thumbs up. As he descended from the cockpit Saito grinned and pointed to the regal figure standing at the top of a set of wide stone stairs that led up to the estate.

"Look who showed up to welcome you, Crosby-san!"

The sergeant shook his head.

"You're dreaming, Specialist. The Duchess is just here to welcome her daughters home."

He smirked.

"And their suitors, so be on your best behavior."

Saito followed the Zulu Squad sergeant as he caught up with the others. As they approached the foot of the stairs the Tokyo teen glanced up and chuckled.

"I think the Duchess might have ulterior motives, take a look!"

The Duchess fought down butterflies in her stomach as she saw Sir Crosby speaking to her youngest daughter's suitor. She closed her eyes and chided herself, she was a noble, not some lovestruck teenaged girl lusting after a war hero chevalier. As she fidgeted with the satin bows on her skirt Karin suddenly felt very self conscious. A breeze blew over her and she felt goosebumps on the exposed skin of her neck and chest, a part of her was regretting being so daring in her attire. She quashed the thought, raised her chin imperiously,and slowly walked down the steps.

Crosby looked up and had to catch himself from gawking. The Duchess de La Vallière had her hair piled up in a long ponytail, and was made up as if she were going out for the evening. But what caught the Zulu Squad sergeant's attention the most was the elegant purple dress she was wearing; fitting enough to show more more of her figure, with an off the shoulder décolletage that showed a modest amount of skin. It was nowhere near as extreme as the sorts of things Kirche would wear, but it certainly drove home just how attractive the duchess was.

Karin kept her composure as she continued to descend, her two daughters were obediently standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting to greet their mother. But all the duchess could think of what was to say to Sir Crosby. Should she thank him for keeping her daughter safe again? Or maybe welcome him to the estate and invite him to dinner? The teen in her suggested saucily that she should invite the Outworlder for a midnight stroll, and for a finite moment she considered that. Then she dispelled the thought as quickly, it would show a decided lack of decorum if she were to flirt with Sir Crosby in front of her children.

However, things were going to take a turn for the worse. For as she was still distracted by her own thoughts Karin de La Vallière failed to notice that the hem of her dress was just a bit too long, and the taffeta embellishment on the hem caught her foot. Immediately she lost her footing, and the entire world spun. Her last thought was how foolish she would look in front of her children, and yet another part was upset at what sort of an impression it would make on Sir Crosby. Suddenly her fall was arrested, and a pair of strong gauntleted hands grasped her her bare shoulders. She opened her eyes, and all she could see were a pair of beautiful blue eyes. She smiled and could make out a disembodied voice speaking.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

Crosby credited his reflexes for preventing complete disaster. As soon as he saw the duchess lose her footing he charged ahead, shoving aside the protesting pinkette. In the blink of an eye he was at the foot of the stairs, and had caught Karin, who seemed somewhat dazed by the experience. He also noticed that her eyes were a deep fuchsia, and were also shimmering. The duchess let out a sigh, but then suddenly her eyes focused, and she immediately flushed and straightened herself out.

"My-my thanks to you, Sir Crosby, for saving me from that unfortunate tumble."

She glanced down at her flowing dress.

"Silly girl, I told Hélène to hem the thing before laying it out..."

"Mother! Are you alright?"

Karin was in a way grateful for her youngest daughter drawing the soldier's scrutiny away from her. She turned her gaze to Louise, and gave her a stern look.

"Yes, I am, Louise. Which is more than I can say for you! You disobeyed me and went to Brugues anyways, didn't you?"

The pinkette flushed the same color as her hair and lowered her head.

"I...I'm sorry, Mother...but my-my boyfriend Saito was in trouble, he could have been killed if not for me!"

Saito unwisely spoke up.

"It's true, with her help we were able to destroy the evil Von Wittmann's super tank!"

The duchess turned her cold gaze to Saito, and immediately he regretted opening his mouth.

"So, the rumors are true. That filthy Germainian pig still lives, I should have killed him when I had the chance!"

"Well, he's dead now. Run over by his own tank, in fact."

Karin's eyes widened at the sound of Crosby's voice and she turned around.

"Oh...I see. Well..."

She felt a blush rising up from her neck, and immediately turned around to hide it.

"We shall discuss your disobedience and its punishment later, Louise."

The duchess glanced over to the lieutenant.

"McPherson, isn't it? I see that Éléonore has finally found herself a suitable suitor."

The soldier flushed lightly as he straightened up.

"Er, that's right, ma'am. 1st Lt. John McPherson, at your service, ma'am!"

Karin noticed that the soldier brought his hand to his eyebrow. She had observed other Outworlders do the same, so it must a form of salute. She gave a light smile to the young officer.

"Your service is not required, Lt. McPherson, but I expect you to be at the disposal of my eldest daughter."

McPherson nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

The duchess turned to go.

"Dinner is at six, and under the circumstances, formal attire - for the men - will be optional."

She nodded at McPherson and Saito.

"You both can refresh yourselves in the servant's quarters."

Before she could leave Éléonore stopped her, her face knitted into a frown.

"But Mama! McPherson is an officer, why should he have to quarter with the servants? As an officer that practically makes him a noble in their world!"

The lieutenant held up his hands placatingly.

"Ah, it's okay Elle, I don't mind!"

She let out a huff.

"Hmph! It most certainly is not alright! I will not have you sleeping in the servant's quarters alongside commoners! And besides, I wouldn't be caught dead going there to check on you!"

She blushed slightly.

"You can have the guest room across the hall from mine, it has a nice big sitting room, with a fireplace as well!"

Louie glared at her older sister.

"Why does does your boyfriend get the nice room and my boyfriend has to quarter with the servants?!"

Karin turned to go.

"I will leave you to sort this out."

She paused at Sgt. Crosby.

"I...thank you for what you did, and for continuing to keep my daughter safe, Sir Crosby. Until dinner."

Crosby was still staring after the duchess as she left, wondering what the hell had gotten into the usually uptight and stoic head of the Vallière household. It didn't last, as his attention was drawn to the escalating argument between the eldest and youngest daughter.

"-and besides, your boyfriend is still a commoner!"

Louise stamped her tiny foot.

"He's a soldier! And he pilots the mighty Black Hawke Airship!"

Éléonore reached out and pinched Louise's cheek.

"Don't take that tone with me, Chibi Louise! I'm still your older sister and you will show respect! Your boyfriend may be a soldier, but he's a 'Specialist' which is the lowest rank of an enlisted men, isn't that right, John?"

McPherson glanced over at Crosby and shook his head.

"Oh, no I ain't getting in the middle of this."

* * *

><p><strong>(Lt. McPherson's quarters, 9 PM)<strong>

To describe the room Lt. McPherson was occupying as opulent was like describing Saddam Hussein's summer palace as 'slightly tacky', a vast understatement. The lieutenant recalled being quartered at the Jumeirah Beach Hotel in Dubai before everything went to shit, and at the time he thought the suite he was sharing with two other officers was swanky. Even it paled in comparison to this room. A small hand squeezed his and brought him back to his senses. He was sitting on a love seat opposite a large crackling fire in the fireplace. Éléonore's eyes were wide with anticipation.

"Go on! What happened next, what happened when the dragons attacked?"

McPherson smiled.

"Well, like I was saying, this dragon is trying to chew off my tail, that is, Bravo Zero's tail. And then BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! He gets couple of new holes, courtesy of Big Ugly One!"

As he spoke Éléonore moved closer to him squeezed his hand again.

"I am so glad that you managed to get out unscathed, John! I must send my thanks to that Big Ugly One of yours!"

McPherson chuckled.

"Well, I'm sure the Radioman will like that."

Éléonore couldn't take her eyes away from lieutenant's face. Suddenly, she noticed something and reached up with her free hand.

"Your nose!"

McPherson raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It was broken! It's crooked just like eagle's beak!"

She ran her finger over the spot where his nose had a noticeable angle.

"How did this happen? It was during another war, yes?"

The lieutenant shuddered.

"Well, I don't quite remember..."

It was a lie; he remembered all too well the circumstances of his broken nose. He remembered every punch that the CIA asshole Castivian landed on him. He remembered the blossoming explosion of pain as well as the audible crack, when the spook's last blow broke the bridge of his nose. At least the bastard got a 9mm brain hemorrhage for his troubles.

McPherson shook his head to drive away the horrid memories.

"Yeah, rightly remember where or when I got this."

Éléonore smiled and stood up.

"I see. Well, it's already late, so I should go back to my room and let you rest."

As they stood at the door, the girl reached for his right cheek with her lips.

"Good night, First Lieutenant John McPherson. Sleep well."

* * *

><p><strong>(The next morning)<strong>

First Lieutenant McPherson opened the double doors that led out to the expansive patio and stretched in the early morning sunshine. It wasn't quite breakfast time, as the sun had just come up, but the lieutenant's internal clock still woke him at dawn whether it was in Dubai or Tristain. At first McPherson tried to locate Sgt. Crosby, but the Zulu Squad sergeant was nowhere to be found, so he decided to take a walk. As the young officer strode down the steps and into the courtyard of the estate he saw many familiar sights.

The wall of the house were Fouquet's golem broke through to get the duchess's ring, and where Saito made his last stand, was whole again. The only evidence was a faint discoloration in the stones where it was repaired. Off in the distance he saw the fountains where Tiffania decided to take a bath were intact and running, with stone cherubs' angelic faces smiling at each other. Even the greenhouse still had all of its glass panels intact, although probably not for long, with walking IED around.

It took McPherson a few seconds to realize that he stood on the same place he entered this world. The spot where Derflinger used arcane magic to destroy the sword, and release the lieutenant from his captivity. He couldn't help but kneel down and touch the neatly cut grass. The experience of him being imprisoned inside some old sword was far away, but the thought still gave him shivers.

"You probably wish to explore our family estate?"

A familiar feminine voice caused him to start and he looked over his shoulder. Éléonore was standing there, beaming at him with her hands shyly behind her back.

"Well, sorta. Never got a chance to do it the last time I've been there..."

He stood up and pointed at the stables.

"Think your mother will lend me one of the horses?"

Éléonore giggled and took the lieutenant's hand.

"Horse? You're probably joking. The Duchy of Vallière is too vast to explore it on horseback!"

She tugged him towards one-story building that looked like a cross between a barn and a gatehouse.

"No John, I have something better in mind..."

As they approached the double doors, Éléonore withdrew a key and unlocked a massive padlock, then pulled the locking bar up and threw open the doors. She smiled as she saw the hulking form that lay on the floor.

"Mother allowed me to take Frieda!"

McPherson shuddered as he got a good look at barn's sole inhabitant.

"Ulp! Is that what I think it is?"

A large creature with the body of a lion with a long barbed serpentine tail and massive bat wings stretched and slowly slowly stood up. Still not fully awake, the manticore took a sleepy glance at the intruders. It yawned, demonstrating four rows of razor-sharp teeth. McPherson fought the temptation to reach for the M9 holstered to his thigh. It's just like an ordinary cat, the lieutenant thought, only a hundred times bigger and hundred million times deadlier.

As the beast finally stood up, Éléonore approached it and scratched behind its ear.

"Good morning, girl! Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

The manticore let out a deep purr, which to McPherson sounded like a rumbling volcano. The girl smiled and hopped onto the the beast in one swift jump. She then looked down at the lieutenant.

"We're all set, get on!"

Still in doubt, McPherson approached the beast.

"Are you sure?"

Frieda took a dismissive glance at the officer, and he couldn't swear the manticore wasn't eyeing him for breakfast. Éléonore rolled her eyes, feigning contempt.

"Well, if First Lieutenant John McPherson is afraid of manticores…"

She was barely able to hide a smile when McPherson awkwardly climbed on the beast's back to take place behind her.

"Sweetheart, I was up in the air in a Black Hawk when the worst of the sandstorms hit Dubai…"

Éléonore patted manticore's corded muscular neck, and the beast slowly walked outside. As McPherson settled back, he continued.

"…so this oversized flying kitten wouldn't…"

Frieda sprawled her huge wings, flapped them once and suddenly jumped up in the air like a mad jack-in-the-box.

"…scare meeoooOOH MY GOOOOOD!"

Meanwhile, on the patio Duchess Karin de La Vallière looked up from her tea and chuckled as she saw her manticore familiar flying away. She heard Crosby's voice speak up beside her.

"Sweet shit on a shingle! Is that Lt. McPherson riding a manticore?!"

The duchess glanced over and saw that the look of shock on the bodyguard's handsome features. She smiled.

"It would appear so, my Éléonore came to be this morning begging to for permission to ride Frieda."

She saw the puzzled look on both Crosby and Saito.

"That is the name of my manticore familiar."

She looked back up and saw her elder daughter fighting to maintain control. Saito finished munching on some buttered toast and quipped.

"Looks like the loot's about to lose his dinner."

That earned a laugh from everyone around the table, except Louise. She sullenly stabbed at her breakfast.

"How comes that Éléonore can fly Frieda, but I can't? That's simply not fair!"

Karin shook her head.

"My manticore has a character that rivals yours, my dear. And unless you learn to control yourself, she is a no-no for you!"

She glanced at Saito.

"Besides, I believe you already have a flying beast - not to mention a handsome young man driving it."

Both her daughter and her suitor immediately blushed as pink as the family's trademark hair, and the duchess smiled again.

My youngest daughter probably just set the new all-Halkeginian record for blushing, she thought with a barely hidden laugh.

She looked back up at the retreating form of her manticore. Although she had initial misgivings about Saito, the duchess had since come around and found the boy had admirable qualities, just as Crosby said. She looked over to the soldier, still in his black and white armor as he self-consciously tried to drink tea. Now, if only she could confess her feelings with the same ease.

Crosby, for his part after getting over the shock of seeing Lt. McPherson riding on a flying lion, had gone back to eating his breakfast. He was in the process of cursing to himself that the teacups were too small, and completely oblivious to the duchess staring at him with shimmering eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>(Somewhere over the Duchy of Vallière)<strong>

"Oh God... Oh God... Oh God!"

Lieutenant John McPherson was never afraid to fly...or so he thought just five minutes ago. Riding in a Little Bird chopper was perfectly normal and actually boringly routine after several times, even monkey-strapped to the bench outside. But flying a huge combat manticore with a young blonde girl at the reins seemed far more dangerous. At least in Dubai pilots knew how to fly, and the Little Birds didn't ignore the pilot's input.

Oblivious to his woes, Éléonore petted the manticore on its head.

"Good girl! Now, turn right so we could see the forests!"

The beast shook its mane, as if saying 'no'.

"Turn right, I said!"

Frieda the manticore made a short growl and took a tight left turn followed by a sudden dive, almost tossing the unfortunate riders from her back.

"FRIEDAAAA!"

While Éléonore fought the unruly beast, McPherson frantically clutched to his seat. He suddenly remembered his first time landing at Bagram Air Base, with the C-130 Hercules executing a steep dive to avoid insurgent AA missiles. Only pushed all the way up to eleven, he thought, as he fought to keep his partially digested dinner inside his stomach.

Finally, the manticore settled for a low-level flight above a small river that snaked amidst the green hills. Éléonore scolded the mount, swatting the creature's ear.

"Bad Frieda, BAD! Just wait until Mother hears about it!"

She might as well have been a fly for all of the effect it had, the beast turned its head and glared. The eldest Vallière daughter huffed.

"And don't you dare to look at me like that!"

In response Frieda growled and opened her maw, demonstrating her teeth. McPherson could swear that the creature had just laughed at Éléonore's attempted scolding. She shook her head in disdain and turned her attention back to the lieutenant.

"I am so sorry, John, Frieda can be so stubborn sometimes!"

The lieutenant forced a smile as he tried to catch a breath.

"That's nothing... I've had worse... Just out of curiosity...how many times you flew it before?"

Éléonore blushed profusely.

"Er... well... um... That would be my third flight... But I'm learning fast!"

Suddenly, McPherson's eyes widened in fright.

"Ahead!"

Éléonore raised a brow.

"What do you mean, a head, a head of what?"

McPherson put both hands up and forced her head to the front.

"BRIDGE!"

She froze in horror at what approached. A narrow wooden bridge was coming up fast. Several women from adjacent village stood on it, using its railings as hangers for their wet laundry. Fearing the worst, Éléonore tugged manticore's mane.

"Frieda, pull up this moment!"

But the beast had another idea. Flapping its large wings, Frieda descended even lower, almost touching water with her sharp-clawed paws.

"PULL UP NOW!"

Not paying even slight attention to its driver, the manticore picked up speed. McPherson gulped as he saw its target: the narrow gap between support columns. Éléonore shut her eyes as she clutched to McPherson, shrieking wildly.

"Brimir the Almightyyyyyy!"

In a blink of an eye, the huge beast folded its wings and cleared the gap, never touching the bridge. As it flew away, the manticore slammed its tail on the water, raising a spray cloud and soaking wet both the riders and commoner women above. Feeling that enough is enough, Frieda gained some altitude and settled for a leisure flight over the fields.

As she spat out the water, Éléonore was ready to unleash her anger at the beast, but suddenly she broke out into merry laughter.

"Oh by the Founder Beard! I really thought that we would crash! John, are you alright?"

McPherson, who sat tight during the whole sequence, chuckled hysterically.

"I'm peachy, Elle! Just peachy!"

The girl sighed and suddenly leaned against his chest.

"Isn't this romantic?"

McPherson paused in his laughter and quipped.

"Not what I would call romantic, sweetheart. More like brick-breaking pants-shitting terror!"

He ran his hand through Éléonore's wet hairs.

"You know, we'd better hurry back and get ourselves in some really warm place..."

McPherson felt a blush on his face as the girl nestled her head on his shoulder and looked directly in his eyes. She then put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. The Lieutenant managed to say only one phrase before their lips touched.

"However, we probably can take the scenic route…"

_(AN: And there you have it, some nice romance with McPherson and Louise's big sis. I found that Lt. McPherson hadn't had his day in the spotlight so I took this opportunity to develop him as a character. Also makes for a nice break before things get heavy. I'm hoping to get another chapter up by next week, but no promises. Until then!)_


	144. Righteous Side of Hell

**(Near the Seaside Cottage of Country Ollman)**

Captain Pelayo shielded her eyes as she gazed out to the crashing surf, and the dark blue waters beyond. Although the Marine pilot prided herself in her perfect eyesight, as was required by any pilots in Special Operations Command, she still found herself staring out into the distance. The pilot in her tried to find the horizon, but try as she might, Pelayo couldn't make it out. It was as if the water and sky fused into one in the distance.

"Watcha looking for, sweetie?"

She turned and saw Country Ollman slipping the catch on the dog's lead. The black and white dog had accompanied them on their stroll along the beach, although Pelayo could have sworn she heard the dog muttering under its breath. She shrugged as she donned her aviator shades again.

"Oh, nothing, just trying to see if I can get a fix on the horizon."

Her host stood up and watched the dog bound off towards the cottage.

"Well, as you probably already know, there isn't one."

Pelayo shrugged.

"So what is beyond the horizon?"

For while there Country said nothing. Then he gestured to the beach and the surrounding area.

"This is like an island in a vast sea."

He then gestured to the expanse of water.

"Now imagine that vast sea, whose borders are ever expanding, is not made up of water. Instead, its eddies are teeming with potential ideas; pictures, lights, sounds, voices, even raw words that are tossed about on the currents."

He dusted the sand off his knees.

"Every now and then, those raw elements will coalesce and form a tapestry, a living, breathing entity that evolves constantly under the guidance of its creator."

Country gave the Marine a direct look.

"That, my dear, is what is beyond the Veil, so to speak."

Pelayo smiled as she approached him.

"Hey, I would have been happy with a 'Need to know, Marine, move on'."

She ran one of her hands over Country's face.

"Instead, you wow me with your purple prose...You do know how to romance a girl..."

Country took her hand in his and smiled.

"Well, I'm glad to oblige, sweetie."

The Marine found herself leaning in, lost in the sparkling eyes of that odd man who brought her here. Country, for his part, found himself leaning down to receive her kiss, and when their lips were mere inches apart, they closed their eyes. At the last minute, Country Ollman heard a soft cough, like a ewe lamb trying to clear a blade of grass from her tiny throat. He opened his eyes and looked off to the side.

Standing at the crest of the sand dune that led up to his shack was a tall beautiful woman, her thin raiment and long green hair being teased by the sea's breeze. A small smiled played on the lady's fair countenance, as she slowly descended the steps. Country, for his part, looked bemused as he heard Pelayo speak up.

"Ya could've waited a few minutes, Princess!"

The lady responded by way of a light bow as if in apology, but said nothing as she regarded the two of them with her deep forest-green eyes. Finally Country joined in.

"The Cap's right, toots. Your timing, as always, in impeccable. What's up?"

Finally the Weaver of Fate spoke.

_**"Please accept my humble apologies for interrupting, my Lord. I have come to ask for help."**_

Country glanced over to the Marine and raised his eyebrows apologetically. Pelayo raised her hands in surrender.

"Say no more, Country, I get it. I'll be fixing myself a mojito and giving Princess of the Wood Elves the stink-eye."

The Weaver did not respond to Pelayo's jibe, but kept her eyes locked onto the Marine as she pushed past. When they were alone the Lady Tinúviel spoke up again in her soft, lilting voice.

_**"She has spirit, that one. I see why you like her."**_

Country didn't take his gaze off the Marine on the porch adjacent to his shack, but responded.

"Well, I'm glad she meets with your approval, toots. But I doubt that's why you showed up. Whatcha need?"

The Weaver smiled enigmatically.

_**"I have a task to accomplish, one that requires your sanction to complete."**_

Country grinned at her.

"If you're thinking on doing what I think your thinking on doing, you already know the answer. And, for the record, last time you came dangerously close to getting busted."

He reached into the pocket of his faded cargo shorts and pulled out his pipe.

"I'll allow it, but be careful, 'kay?"

Tinúviel gave him a sincere smile.

_**"Thank you, my Lord."**_

He continued to fiddle with his pipe, and going through the complex ritual of stuffing the bowel and tamping down the fragrant tobacco. It was then that Country noticed the Weaver was still standing there. Or perhaps he knew all along.

"Got something else on your mind, toots?"

The Weaver nodded, and a grave expression crossed her radiant features.

_**"I fear for my charges, for the event that will trigger their Crucible is nigh."**_

She lowered her eyes.

_**"For the one who already suffers his Crucible, I fear for the most."**_

The Weaver raised her eyes, and they were bright with tears that sparkled in the sunlight like precious stones.

_**"I fear that he may fall, and walk the same dark path as his brother, or worse, be damned!"**_

Country finished lighting his pipe and was rewarded with a puff of aromatic smoke.

"I promised you, toots, Alex will make it through his Crucible just fine. He'll have to suffer, just as all of his compadres will have to suffer as they face their demons, but as I said they'll pass it with flying colors."

He pulled the pipe out of his mouth and smiled.

"As for Alex, he won't fall as far as Captain Walker, that guy was a basket case before Dubai, and he saw his fantasies unravel. In comparison to that, Alex's loss seems pale in comparison."

He took the Weaver's delicate hand in his.

"Just make sure to comfort him, and be patient, even if he doesn't want it he'll need it to get past his demons."

The Lady Tinúviel smiled again, and bowed.

_**"Thank you, my Lord. I will take my leave so you may continued unhindered in your romancing of the uncouth female Marine."**_

Country chuckled at his second in command's catty remark, but said nothing as the Weaver disappeared in a flash of light. He then made his way up the stairs, to be greeted by a familiar face. Captain Handwaver stood at the second from the top step, back in his pristine khaki uniform.

"See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Captain Handwaver frowned as he began scratching an unreachable spot on his shoulder blades.

"I am grateful to be human again, sir, but I wish you would have removed the fleas!"

Country shrugged.

"Eh, nobody's perfect..."

He puffed on his pipe as he passed Captain Handwaver.

"...even an omnipotent Wanker like me."

Captain Handwaver was about to make another snide comment when something collided with his feet. He looked down and saw a scruffy looking mutt trying to pull itself to its feet. The dog's wiry coat was matted with mud and it reeked. But what shocked the Captain most was that the dog spoke up.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Captain Handwaver, momentarily stunned, finally spoke up.

"Baldrick? Is that you?"

The mutt nodded emphatically.

"Oh, yes sir!"

"Baldrick, what in the Celestial Empyrean's name are you doing as a dog? Don't tell me that omnipotent wanker turned you into one out of spite."

The mutt shook its head.

"Oh no sir, I heard you got turned into a dog and asked him if I could be one, too."

Captain Handwaver looked aghast.

"You _**asked**_ to be turned into a dog? I know I'm going to regret this, but why the bloody hell did you ask to become a dog?"

"Because I always wanted to be one, sir! And it's so wonderful! I don't have to bath, I get to roll around in shit, eat garbage, chase after cars, and best of all, I can lick my own balls!"

Captain Handwaver rolled his eyes.

"Too much information, Baldrick! And with the possible exception of the last one you did those things already as a human!"

He then noticed the dog staring at his leg.

"Baldrick, what are you doing? What is wrong?"

The dog slowly walked towards Captain Handwaver, as if in a trance.

"I-I'm sorry sir, it's just that suddenly I feel this overwhelming attraction to your leg, sir."

It took Captain Handwaver all of thirty seconds to parse the meaning of Baldrick's words.

"What? Oh no! NO! No Baldrick, don't you dare! No! Down! Get off my leg! Down Baldrick! Bad dog!"

* * *

><p><em>(AN: And as Pz. VI has said, no chapter is complete without Captain Handwaver being tormented...what can I say, it's good to be a god *cue evil laughter*<em>

_So, we're cutting back to the palace, the circumstances are supposed to take place while Crosby, Saito and McPherson are at the Vallière Estate. Those familiar with Cold War era politics will get these references. In fairness I wanted this to come out when Bridge of Spies opens in theaters, just for the references, but alas that was not meant to be.)_

* * *

><p><strong>(Operation Rainbow T+28:22, approximately 20,000 feet altitude above Dunkerque)<strong>

SSG Forbes was cold. He never thought he would ever feel cold. In the sandswept ruins of Dubai, where the oppressive heat and thirst were the norm, he often fantasized about spending the night in one of those ice hotels in Sweden. Even the concept of drowning in fresh water, or freezing to death seemed appealing in that hot hellhole. Now, riding a large blue dragon at approximately 20,000 feet up, he was regretting those thoughts. Even wearing multiple layers and his head wrapped in several scarfs he was shivering. His headset squawked.

_"Swan this is Bravo One Actual, how copy?"_

He keyed his mic.

"This is Swan, go ahead."

_"We're picking up our first signals of Dunkerque, so maintain circular holding pattern while we try to bring the camera into focus. What's your status, Swan?"_

"Bravo One Actual, be advised, status is freezing my ass off, what do you think? If Tabitha could have created an oxygen bubble couldn't she have made it warm, too?"

He heard Konrad chuckle and break radio discipline.

_"Fire's not her specialty, Sarge, you'd have to enlist Big Red's help."_

He shuddered.

"Ah, that's a negative, Bravo One Actual, I'll shiver in silence."

His radio squawked again, this time it sounded like Lugo.

"Swan, this is Delta Two, come starboard...more...more, that's it! Hold position!"

In the barracks of the 33rd Colonel Konrad and the others were huddled around his desk, staring at the tiny IPad screen. The entire screen was made up of blue with splotches of orange, red, purple and magenta as they made out details of Dunkerque. The entire East Wall was demolished, and beyond it Konrad were rows and rows of steam-powered tanks, like the Mark I Reconquista tanks they encountered at Brugues.

"Holy shit, look!" Lugo exclaimed as he pointed a finger at one corner of the screen.

Filling the gap in the wall were at least a dozen massive tanks, like Von Wittmann's K-Wagen, their hulls glowed a dull orange as the engines chugged out hot steam and smoke. As Konrad zoomed in he saw more heavily armed Fusiliers, but one thing was missing. Lt. Gordon voiced what Konrad was thinking.

"Shit, there's no sign of civvies, sir. Where the hell are they? There was over 10,000 inhabitants in Dunkerque before the war, they can't have just disappeared!"

As the screen panned left, he caught a brief flash of dull orange. Gordon pointed it out to the colonel, who nodded and keyed his mic.

"Swan, this is Bravo One Actual; pan back, I repeat pan back to where you were a moment ago."

The screen slowly panned right, and as it refocused the soldiers could see a long, thin line of orange and red against the blue backdrop. When they zoomed it, they could see it was a group of persons, lined up single file. Beyond them to the right was a large dark blue mass that neither Konrad nor Gordon could make out. A smaller group stood off to the left. Suddenly without warning they could see flashes of yellow emanating from the smaller group, and the line collapsed, fading from orange to magenta to the same cold blue. Konrad zoomed into the blue mass, and his blood turned to ice as he recognized what it was. He had seen aerial recon photos like that before in Bosnia.

As the picture enlarged and refocused, the colonel's fears were founded as the large mass became distinguishable. Bodies. Bodies crammed into a mass gravesite, there could have been thousands of them. They were all dead, and the freshly executed prisoners still put off a residual body heat, showing magenta in the the sea of blue. There was movement, along with a single heat signature, and Konrad could make out a golem slowly trudging towards the fresh dead. He heard Gordon speak up.

"They're burying the bodies. Those bastards are trying to cover up their crimes..."

Konrad heard a retching sound and saw Lugo bolting for the door. Konrad lowered his head and keyed his mic again.

"Swan, this is Bravo One Actual, return to base, repeat, return to base stat. We found what we were looking for."

* * *

><p><strong>(Surveillance Balloon #14's gondola, 18,000 feet above Dunkerque)<strong>

This is an outrage, Count Thierry Sandford thought as he shifted his thick fur coat in a vain attempt to keep warm. Had the Founder decided to punish him for something? There was no other explanation for his current posture, he told to himself. Instead of celebrating the victory with his fellow Gallian nobles, the count found himself stuck on a nightshift in this cursed gas bag, accompanied by two Caledonian dimwits who called themselves fire mages.

What was even worse, these bloody highlanders didn't suffer from the cold. The blue-painted savages actually enjoyed it, sipping some grog and telling jokes about Caledonian summers, which apparently are a lot harsher than this.

Let's hope that they did not forget who is in charge, the Count thought as he addressed to them.

"Angus, get another log in the stove, I'm freezing!"

The Caledonian put on a contemptuous smirk and stood up.

"Does the noble Sir Sandford find the evening a bit chilly?"

The count frowned.

"Shut your filthy traps and get on with it!"

Both the Caledonians laughed raucously as they complied. Savages, the count thought, I'm surrounded by savages.

As the Caledonian named Angus reached for the wood stack, a movement in the sky grabbed his attention. A faint speck was rapidly moving across the night sky. It momentarily crossed the Macceur, and Angus could clearly see that it was definitely not a bird or a falling star.

He dropped the log and turned to face the Count.

"Lord Sandford! Sir!"

Count Sandford sighed in exasperation.

"What is it? Just get that bloody log in the stove already!"

Angus pointed a spindly finger towards the speck on the horizon.

"Sir, there is someone flying just above us! A dragon, perhaps!"

Lord Sandford pulled out his spyglass and aimed it at the speck, which currently was crossing Secunda. Indeed, it was a small dragon operated by a single rider. He couldn't tell which side it belonged to, but there was an easy way to find out.

Before the war was underway, both the Reconquista and its Gallian allies developed a signal system to help tell friend from foe during the night hours. Each balloon commander, dragon rider and airship captain were issued a small lantern and a code that changed daily. Anyone who spotted another balloon, dragon or airship was required to transmit the code, and wait for the answer. And as Lord Robert Rich, the one who came out with the idea, put it: Right answer means that you've just met a friend.

The count picked up his lantern, aimed it towards the intruder and pushed the shutter button.

'One-three-one', that was the code for today. The rider was supposed to answer with 'two-one-two'. Seconds passed, which turned into minutes, and the dragon rider never replied.

Angus was the first to break the silence.

"P'raps his lantern's blown out..."

The count shook his head as he recalled the second part of Lord Rich's saying: Wrong or no answer – you've just met a target. The Gallian noble addressed his subordinates.

"Signal the ground so they can scramble the dragon riders, then bring that unknown intruder down."

Both Angus and the second Caledonian, a muscular fellow named Seamus, trained their wands on the dragon and its rider. Looks like the night would be not so dull after all, Lord Sandford thought, as he shouted an order.

"Fire!"

* * *

><p>SSG Forbes spoke into his mike, cursing the howling wind that was making the incoming transmission faint.<p>

"Say again, Bravo One Actual say again, did not copy your last."

Konrad's voice returned.

_"Repeating, orders for Swan, come about and return to base, repeat, return to base stat."_

Forbes put the _palantír _back into its sack.

"Roger that, Bravo One Actual, returning to base. Did you find out what you were looking for?"

He thought he heard the colonel sigh on the other end.

_"Unfortunately, that's an affirmative. No survivors at Dunkerque, just bodies."_

"Roger that, sir I…"

He cut short as he threw a glance at the nearest balloon. Three human figures stood inside its gondola, and two of them were aiming their wands in his direction.

"Oh shit." Forbes whispered. He barely heard Konrad's response.

_"Come again, Swan? Say again, did not copy your last?"_

The sergeant could see a fireball coalescing rapidly at the wands' points. Moments later, the spell was finished. Forbes froze momentarily as two fireballs lit up the night sky and raced towards their target.

"GUIDELINE, GUIDELINE! Sylph, evasive maneuvers!"

The Sergeant recalled how his father, a Vietnam War Wild Weasel ace, taught him about the SAMs and their dangers. A pilot who faces a Soviet SA-2 surface-to-air missile should make a tight turn in the last moment. Otherwise, the missile won't break the lock.

"Bank right, bank right!"

Sylphid let out a growl of acknowledgement, and made a tight right turn away from the threat, almost making Forbes to blackout. As he shook his head to recover, he saw one of the fireballs flying away. Apparently, one of the mages lost its target, but the second one still trailed them.

There was another thing old Chuck Forbes put into his son. When you face the SAM, he said, be sure to pack countermeasures, and lot of them. Sadly, Sylphid had no chaffs or flares – but an idea was already forming in the Sergeant's head. He leaned forward, clutching onto the dragon's neck.

"Listen closely, girl. I want you to fly straight, and when I say it, bank left rapidly, get it?"

The blue dragon nodded in response.

Forbes smiled and pulled the _palantír_ sack from his shoulder. As the fireball closed in, the Sergeant grabbed the sack by its belt and started to whip it around it like a cowboy's lasso.

Sorry Darden, the sergeant thought, but it's either me or your gimmick.

"NOW!"

The dragon girl banked left, and at the same time Forbes released his improvised countermeasure. Seconds later, the fireball caught the sack. The sergeant felt the enormous heat as it exploded into a small sun, illuminating the whole area and momentarily blinding both Forbes and the balloon crew.

Count Sandford was about to order another volley when he saw two specks approaching their balloon. Suddenly, one of them blinked rapidly. He darted for his signal lantern and quickly blinked a response. Angus and Seamus were ready to launch another pair of fireballs when they heard their commander.

"Cease fire, cease fire! We have friendly forces in the air!"

The trio grinned in unison as they saw two slender Wind dragons darting towards the unknown intruder. They knew that these fast beasts were used solely by the _Escadron Rafale_, the elite unit of _Armée de l'Air de la Gaulia_, or Gallian Aerial Corps. Apparently, they were ordered to patrol the skies over Dunkerque, seeking potential Halkeginian stragglers.

Now I will finally see those fabled riders in action, the Count thought and trained his spyglass at the dragons, intending to capture every moment.

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristainian Royal Palace)<strong>

Konrad keyed his radio for the fifth time.

"Swan, this is Bravo One Actual, come in, over."

There was nothing but silence. He took off the headphones and turned away.

"Any luck, sir?"

Lugo and Gordon, accompanied by Darden, stood beside the colonel, with solemn looks on their faces. Konrad sighed.

"Nothing so far."

The Radioman tapped his tablet several times.

"No signal here, either. Can't even get a lock on the _palantír_… What was this last transmission, the one about some guidelines?"

It was Lugo who answered him in a low voice.

"Not just some guidelines, man. The Guidelines, SA-2 SAM missiles."

The Delta sniper lowered his head.

"Apparently, our Sarge met their air defenses…"

The Colonel glanced at Tabitha, who was allowed to stay with them until Forbes' return. The blue-haired girl was sitting in the corner. As if she felt Konrad's glance, she raised her head. As their eyes met, the Colonel noticed two tiny teardrops on girl's cheeks.

Konrad shook his head and turned over to the radio.

"Swan, this is Bravo One Actual, come in…"

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, in the skies over Dunkerque)<strong>

"Target in my sight, ready to engage."

Colonel Voisin felt the telepathic Wind spell transmission from his wingman and smiled. Two days ago, Voisin and his _Escadron Rafale_ cleared the Dunkerque airspace from anything that hailed from Halkeginia, never losing a single man. They even tackled with an enemy airship, tearing its unfortunate crew with deadly streams of wind and ice shards until its captain threw in the white flag.

Time to finish the job, the Colonel thought as he formulated the attack plan.

"Jean-Luc, break off and perform a high-side pass. I will distract him."

The young _Capitaine_ nodded in acknowledgement, and the officer's response registered in Voisin's thoughts as a telepathic voice.

"_Oui, mon Colonel_!_"_

* * *

><p>Sergeant Forbes let out a sigh of relief when he saw that his improvised decoy worked perfectly, detonating the fireball and saving them from turning into well-done steaks.<p>

"Phew, that was close! Nice flying, Sylph!"

He reached to pat the dragon on her neck.

"I promise that when we get back home, I'll get you all the apples in the wo-"

The Sergeant almost jumped when a long burst of thin icicles whizzed beside his head.

"Fuck!"

He took a quick glance back and cursed again when he saw a large grey dragon with a rider in Gallian clothes at the reins.

"Shake off that bastard, girl!"

Sylphid made several tight turns, trying to counter the new enemy. Forbes felt sick to his stomach when he saw that the Gallian easily parried her maneuvers. Left, right, and then left again...it was like a cat playing with mouse before eating it. And each time he was close enough, the dragon knight fired his ice shards in short bursts, causing the smaller blue dragon to change direction.

Forbes looked up, and barely managed to notice the second beast.

"Above us!"

Sylphid barely had time to dodge the _Capitaine_'s burst. Couple of ice shards glanced off her skin, unable to defeat its thick scales. One ripped through Forbes' overcoat, making a large tear. Another one hit his radioset, which exploded into tiny bits of plastic.

The sergeant cursed again as he felt the cold air streaming through the newly-made hole in his clothes.

"Shit! Another shot like that an' we're goners!"

The dragon made a short growl in response and wagged left, jinking away from another stream of icicles.

Forbes noticed that the second rider already recovered from his dive and started to climb back, intending to repeat his attack. The Sergeant pulled his M4 carbine from the shoulder and opened the trigger guard.

"Let's show these hawks that their prey has some teeth."

He realized that the first dragon rider was just keeping them busy, a standard aerial warfare tactic. The real threat was his wingman; he could mount any sort of attack while they tried to shake off his leader. And he was already making it, as the second rider gained enough altitude he entered into steep dive, zeroing in on Sylphid.

The Sergeant trained the gun onto incoming dragon and flicked the safety switch to the full auto.

"Come and get it, you fucking flying monkey!"

Once he saw that the rider raised his wand, Forbes pressed the trigger as hard as he could.

The old carbine kicked back as it spat out a torrent of full-metal-jacketed bullets. The Sergeant grinned as he saw tracer fire cut into the rider, and saw the enemy slump back in his seat, and that the dragon yawed left, losing control. But his joy was cut short when the weapon fell silent with a sound that made Forbes freeze in horror.

_CLACK!_

Forbes' M4 was jammed.

* * *

><p>The <em>Capitaine<em> never had a chance to escape from the incoming hailstorm of lead.

Two bullets struck his dragon in the forehead, and although they never pierced the thick skull, the impact force was sufficient to stun the beast. The _Capitaine_ felt as if burning hot lead was being drilled into his innards as several 5.56mm slugs tore through his armored breastplate. It was the last thing the young _Rafale_ felt in his life. The unconscious beast never pulled out from the deep dive. It crashed inside a forest near Dunkerque's borders, breaking several trees and making a deep impression in the wet ground.

Colonel Voisin closed his eyes for a moment as he saw his wingman's demise. He couldn't believe the fact that the second-best rider of _Escadron Rafale_ was just shot down by some Halkeginian straggler flying a small dragonling. And using a carbine, no less. Such a tragic and unsporting way to die.

But quickly the Gallian flight commander's sorrow gave way to wrath as he spurred his dragon forward.

Let's see how you will handle the best one, Voisin thought and patted his ride on the head.

"Only you and me left, my beloved _Mirage_. Let's shoot down this _fils de putain_!"

Meanwhile, inside the Balloon #14's gondola, Angus tugged Count Sandford's sleeve and gestured toward the dragons.

"Sir! Sir! Did you see that? He just brought down one of ours!"

The Count nodded.

"Yes I did, Angus. Prepare another fireball, and don't you bloody dare to hit the _Rafale_!"

* * *

><p>"Dammit, not now!"<p>

Forbes cursed as he tugged in vain on the charging handle to clear the jam. As soon as he heard the distinct sound he knew the M4 had jammed solid, if not failed completely. It was a challenge to clear the jam without proper tools, and basically impossible task in the darkness. Not to mention the fantasy dogfight he was in the middle of.

He dared to throw a glance over his shoulder back at the surviving dragon rider. Having lost his wingman, the Gallian moved closer and raised his wand, lining up another shot. There was no point in sophisticated tactics or advanced maneuvers now. It was just shoot to kill.

Sylphid veered left in order to avoid the incoming shards, and the sergeant caught a sight of the balloon. Its gondola lit up momentarily as one of the crewmembers launched another fireball towards him.

"You gotta be shittin' me!"

He barely had time to duck when another icy burst flew inches away from his head.

"Sylph, the fireball! Keep your distance from these balloons!"

But instead of following his orders, Sylphid made a sharp turn and raced directly to the new threat.

"What are you…"

The dragon pulled up as if she wanted to gain some altitude, but then she suddenly spread her wings wide, just like cobra's hood. It caused her to lose momentum so fast that she literally stopped in mid-air. Forbes fought to stay on top of the dragon, clutching onto Sylphid's neck for dear life, and fighting the G-forces that threatened to render him unconscious. If he blacked out now, he knew he'd never wake up, but end up as crater on the ground. Despite this, the sergeant saw that the enemy dragon rider overshot them and was now flying directly into the patch of approaching fireball.

* * *

><p>Colonel Voisin was amazed by Halkeginian's flying skills. You could easily become a <em>Rafale<em> if we weren't enemies, he thought as he watched the little blue dragon recovering from the stall and turning around. Next second, he felt the heatwave and as he turned forward, he saw the fireball that was just inches away. He barely had time to murmur

"Founder help me..."

The projectile exploded under _Rafale_ dragon's right wing, tearing it away and setting the mauled beast aflame. The shockwave broke almost every bone in Voisin's body, killing him instantly and throwing his limp body off the beast's back.

Angus froze in shock when he saw what his fireball had done. He was about to address the Count when a gloved fist hit his nose.

"What have you done, you idiot!"

Count Sandford raised his hand to land another strike on Caledonian's face when he caught sight of the blaze that was approaching their gondola. He screamed when he realized what was about to come.

Even a direct hit was not enough to slow down the heavy Wind dragon. Engulfed in flames and spinning out of control, the dying beast now flew solely by inertia, but the beast weighed as much as the Heavy Siege engines on the ground and it screamed towards Balloon #14 like a missile. It crashed right into the gondola, causing a tremendous explosion that sent splinters of wood and flesh flying in all directions. Some of the fragments punched holes in the balloon's gas envelopes, then the hydrogen inside caught fire and detonated, creating a fireball that rivaled the sunrise.

Forbes let out a loud whoop when he saw the explosion.

"Woohoo! That's what you get when you mess with a Blue Angel!"

The blue dragon purred in delight as he hugged her long neck.

"I owe you an apple orchard and a kiss for that one, Sylph!"

As he glanced down at the balloon's flaming remains, he saw tiny human figures running to the crash site. It won't take them long to realize that there is enemy dragon in the air, he thought.

"Time to get the hell outta Dodge!"

* * *

><p>"Swan, this is Bravo One Actual, if you can hear me please answer."<p>

The room was quiet, except Konrad's repeating calls. Gordon and Darden stood beside the Colonel, with grave expressions on their faces. Lugo sat on the couch with Tabitha, who buried her head in his lap, sobbing silently.

There was a knock on the door, and a young Sharpshooter entered the room. Konrad took off his headphones and turned to face the newcomer.

"What is it?"

The Sharpshooter threw a sloppy imitation of a salute.

"Lord General Konrad, Sergeant Forbes has just landed, and…"

Tabitha jumped off the couch and darted outside, pushing the Sharpshooter out of her way with a force that defied her tiny stature.

All of the members of the 33rd rushed after her. As they entered the Spring Courtyard, they saw the blue-haired girl hugging Sylphid's neck in a tight embrace. Tears streamed down Tabitha's cheeks as she placed a kiss at dragon's forehead. Konrad smiled as he saw SSG Forbes dismount. The sergeant threw a shaky salute.

"R-r-ready f-for t-t-the d-d-debriefing, sir!"

Konrad 's eyes widened. Sgt. Forbes' overcoat was torn down and scorched in several places, and his sack was missing. And the poor soldier was obviously suffering from early stages of hypothermia.

"Sergeant, you look like a Good Humor Popsicle. Get yourself to the Thermae Bangoire and get warmed up."

Forbes' teeth chattered as he tried to protest.

"B-b-b-but s-s-s-sir! Th-the d-d-d-debrifing-"

The colonel help up a hand.

"The debriefing will wait until after you've been thawed out, sergeant. Now report to the royal bathhouse and warm up, that's an order!"

Forbes nodded and help out his M4 carbine.

"W-w-w-w-weapon m-m-malfunctioned, sir!"

Konrad accepted the carbine.

"Roger that, sergeant. I'll get one of the men to look at it. For now I want you defrosted!"

Konrad turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Now that we have the intel we were looking for, it's time."

The colonel paused, then continued.

"I've already contacted Captain Bylinkin and got a sit-rep on Spooky's operational status. It should be ready by later in the afternoon. He's supposed to report back to the palace for the Article 32 hearing at 0900."

He checked his watch.

"After the hearing we'll deliver our ultimatum of unconditional surrender to King Jozef at noon."

Gordon saluted.

"Roger that, sir, and after that?"

Konrad's hazel eyes hardened as he spoke ominously.

"We'll give that bastard until midnight, after that I am initiating Operation Righteous Fury."

He glanced over to the retreated form of Forbes and lowered his voice.

"This mission is restricted to a handful of individuals, lieutenant, so keep this on a need-to-know..."

* * *

><p>Forbes peeled off the last cold, wet layer of clothes and dropped it into a pile on the blue-tiled floor. For a moment he stood still as his shivering skin gradually warmed up in the steamy hot bathhouse. Finally the sergeant stepped into the gray marble bathtub and winced only slightly at the hot water. Slowly he lowered himself into the suds and hot water, until the soapy water came up to his chest. He stretched his submerged limbs and let out a sigh of satisfied pleasure.<p>

"Fuck! This is the life!"

He heard the clicking of boots approach, and quickly Forbes reached for his M9, still holstered by the pile of clothes, but relaxed when he heard a familiar Russian-accented voice.

"I've heard you've almost turned into Francis Gary Forbes out there, Comrade _Mládshiy Serzhánt_."

Forbes looked up and saw Petya appear through the steam. The sergeant also noticed that the youthful Soviet warrant officer had a set of old-school earphones dangling off his neck. The wires led to the breast pocket of the _Prapor_'s coveralls, and briefly Forbes wondered how the kid got a hold of an Ipod or Walkman in this world. He shrugged as he responded.

"Well, you can say that. Thankfully my dragon is more maneuverable than a U2 spyplane. So, what brings you here, Comrade _Prapor_?"

As if to answer Petya produced a burlap bundle and unwrapped it, revealing Forbes' M4. The _Prapor_ turned the weapon over and ran a loving hand over it.

"Your weapon is a real beaut, Comrade, and a feat of engineering. Much nicer than the plastic BB guns your Yankee counterparts were using in the 1970's."

Forbes nodded.

"So, will it fire again?"

The young Soviet officer shrugged.

"Your a_vtomat_ is fine, Comrade _Serzhant_. But I must ask you: have you ever tried to use a gun in a cold weather?"

Petya chuckled as Forbes shook his head, and the _Prapor_ held up a small bottle of gun grease. It was the same one issued to Forbes in Dubai.

"Want to know why your gun jammed? That's why."

The Russian continued.

"This crap will freeze over and turn your gun into high-tech club if you use it in any conditions that are harsher than winters in your fabled Florida, Comrade."

The_ Prapor_ wrapped the M4 back up in its protective burlap and placed it on top of Forbes' bundle of clothes.

"Next time, please use proper grease. Ignoring this simple rule makes Petya's heart hurt, and Petya will make your head hurt if the Comrade _Serzhant_ ignores it again!"

Forbes chuckled and threw an informal salute.

"Roger that, Petya."

Petya chuckled as he left.

"Enjoy your bath, Comrade."

Forbes watched as the young Russian disappear back into the mist of steam, then relaxed as he stretched. He could get used to this gig, the sergeant thought as he closed his eyes.

"Hello!"

When Forbes looked up he saw a pair of large blue eyes staring down at him. It took him a moment to realize it was Illococoo. The tall blue-haired human form of Sylphid was standing over him. It took Forbes less than a moment to realize she was also stark naked. She smiled at him.

"I knew I'd find you here!"

Before Forbes could say anything, she hopped in the air and landed in the middle of the tub with a colossal splash, sending soapy water everywhere. When the sergeant cleared his vision of the soapsuds, he saw the girl was sitting right in front of him, her bust barely concealed by the waterline and bubbles. Slowly he backed away.

"Ah, listen, er Illococoo, I don't think this is appro-"

He was interrupted as the girl glomped him, splashing more hot water and suds everywhere. Briefly Forbes saw that the bottom layer of his clothes were getting soaked, but at least his ACU's and M4 were still high and dry. For now. He look down to see Illococoo nuzzling him.

"You were sooooo brave back there, Josh! I can't believe we got out of there in one piece."

Forbes, recalling the frantic dogfight (or dragonfight, in this case) over Dunkerque, was momentarily distracted from the naked girl covered in soap hugging him.

"Yeah, that was a close shave, and some pretty fancy flying too. My pops would have been proud."

He grinned down at Illococoo.

"In fairness his Flying Anvil wasn't nearly as maneuverable as a dragon-"

The staff sergeant didn't get another word in as the blue-haired girl reached up with her hands. Pulling his face down to hers she craned her neck and kissed him on the mouth. Forbes tried to struggle, but Illococoo wrapped her arms around him, pushing her ample chest against his. When the dragon-girl finally let go, Forbes took a deep breath.

"W-what the hell?"

Illococoo smiled at him.

"Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes, you taste great!"

She blushed as she looked down.

"I-I mean back there, after I dodged those fireballs, you said you'd kiss me..."

The girl looked back up at him and giggled.

"I mean, I did lick you that one time when I was, well, you know...but I'm soooo happy now that I've kissed you."

Illococoo threw her arms around Forbes' neck and the force pushed him against the tub's edge. He looked up and saw Tabitha standing there, wrapped up in a towel and holding a small yellow rubber duckie. The staff sergeant flushed as he stammered.

"Ah, Tabitha, I can explain everything, you see, Illococoo slipped and-"

His voice trailed off as the towel fell and the blue-haired bookworm smiled down at him.

"Scoot over."

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

_Mládshiy Serzhánt: _Soviet rank equivalent to Staff Sergeant.

a_vtomat: _Assault Rifle, where we get AK-47 from, _Avtomat Kalashnikova_

Francis Gary Forbes: Petya is referring to Francis Gary Powers, the American CIA pilot whose U2 was shot down over the Soviet Union and caused embarrassment to the Americans in the height of the Cold War.

_(AN: And SSG Forbes' harem continues to grow. Well, the guy had a lot of bad breaks in Dubai, and almost was blown to bits over Dunkerque, so he needed some R&R. And a major thank you to biohazard115 for helping with the 'Sylphid as U2 plane' sequence. Bonus points to anyone who gets the references in that scene. _

_So now the Damned 33rd has its justification, and Willy Pete will make his long-awaited debut...There will be one more chapter (originally part of this but I had to split it off for pacing reasons), followed by a flashback to the Vallière Estate, and then the moment you've been waiting for...Hopefully these chapters will come quicker with NANOWRIMO, I'll try to get back in the habit...Until then!)_


	145. Righteous Side of Hell, Part Deux

_(AN: Well I was hoping to get this done yesterday, but things came up..._

_Anyways, this is a bit of a perspective shift, this is what is going on while Konrad is debriefing the 33rd about using Willy Pete, and shows what Captain Bylinkin is getting himself into when he goes to the Academy of Magic *Insert Russian Reversal joke here*_

_This chapter was also getting too big (8,000+ words) so I chopped off a section of it and I'll be using it as a blueprint for the next chapter. Enjoy!)_

Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin gently let his foot on the accelerator pedal and turned the steering yoke to the right, and the T-15 responded by slowly maneuvering around a hay-cart. The cart in question had a broken wheel and was sitting in the middle of the cobblestone road that connected Tristain's capital city to the Academy of Magic. Even through the external camera feed Vasya could see the shocked expression on the farmer's face as the IFV circumvented the cart. As he straightened up the yoke Captain Bylinkin marveled again at the technological marvel that was the T-15. It didn't steer like his venerable T-55, it drove more like a car than a tank, and even the ride was smoothed out by a complex suspension system.

Petya was right, the captain thought to himself, this really is like a space-ship. It did stoke a ember of patriotic pride in the Soviet officer to think that his Motherland would produce such an impressive machine. He looked over his shoulder to the passengers and smiled to himself. Each of the eight seats were occupied by students, with several more riding topside on the Armata's hull. On one side the blond _palvin_ Guiche was merrily chatting up his comrades and gushing about how he was looking forward to being reunited with his beloved.

In the opposite corner sat the licentious Kirche, the fire mage. The busty redhead sat with her arms folded under her impressive bust, and let out a theatrical sigh. Earlier the captain had on Sgt. Crosby's orders taken a grenade launcher from Kirche, a weapon she was issued before the war. Now the redhead was sulking as if they had taken away her favorite toy. Idiot girl, Vasya thought. Weapons were anything but a toys, especially the ones like RPGs or grenade launchers. For himself, he would have never given such a thing to a teenager girl, regardless of her bust size.

Vasya looked up at the screen that showed the forward external camera feed and saw a large castle-like structure looming in the distance. That must be the Academy of Magic, he thought to himself. Suddenly, the camera went black, as if someone had thrown a cloth over the camera. The captain growled to himself as he keyed the external PA system.

"_Ponchik_, for the last time stop sitting in front of camera, or else!"

The large wooden gate at the entrance to the Academy opened inward as the T-15 approached. As Vasya guided the IFV into the school's main courtyard he saw that the castle was in fact made up of several towers, each connected by a wall. He followed a gravel path that lead to the large central turret, where a crowd had gathered. Through the camera feed he saw many teenagers wearing black cloaks like the ones he was transporting, boys and girls alike. When the T-15 had reached the steps that led up to the main tower, Vasya eased off the throttle and the T-15 ground to a halt. He toggled the rear hatch and looked over his shoulder.

"Alright, everyone disembark, and thank you for traveling on Armata Bus Line!"

He reached up and opened the main hatch, letting in bright sunlight into the cockpit. Vasya pulled himself up and onto the hull. Sure enough, the pudgy student named Malicorne was standing near the turret's main camera, and it was his cloak that had been obstructing the view. The boy was in the process of trying to get down.

"What is wrong, _Ponchik_?"

The boy looked up nervously at Captain Bylinkin.

"I-I don't know how to get down, sir."

Vasya have a friendly smile.

"Is very easy, _Ponchik_."

He gestured to the front of the armored vehicle, which flattened out.

"Simply stand over there and look down."

Malicorne stepped gingerly along the hull and carefully crept up to the side. A large crowd of second year boys had elbowed their way in to get a closer look at the latest addition to the Outworlder's arsenal. Vasya took note of this and spoke again.

"Now, there should be means to get down there."

The pudgy boy looked down.

"I-I don't see anything, Captain Bylinkin."

Vasya slowly walked towards the boy.

"Look closer, _Ponchik_."

The boy bent over to get a closer look, and Vasya raised his foot and gave the boy a not-so-gentle nudge with his left boot. It had the desired effect; Malicorne fell forward and crashed onto the group of boys, collapsing them like ninepins. It was cruel, but the Vasya recalled that a British poet said sometimes is better to be cruel to be kind rather than kind to be cruel.

The Soviet officer jumped off the side of the T-15 and approached an older man with a long white beard. This must be the headmaster, Vasya thought. The old man was still staring at the vehicle when Vasya spoke up to him.

"You are Headmaster Osmond, yes?"

The old man started as if waking from a trance.

"Hmm? Oh, yes! Yes, I am. Osmond at your service. I apologize for my state, you see I've been without an assistant for months now and I haven't had a good grope, er, I mean good help since..."

The captain chuckled to himself. The sergeant had also warned Vasya about Osmond, that in addition to being the headmaster and a powerful mage, he was also a lecherous old goat. Much like many senior ranking generals in the Soviet Army, Vasya thought.

"Is good to know, I need to speak with Professor Colbert, can you direct me to him?"

* * *

><p>Professor Colbert's hands trembled as he read the letter. Vasya had found the professor in his office, which to to the Soviet officer looked like a mad scientist's lair, and had presented the sealed letter from Konrad. Initially Colbert was very friendly and excitedly inquired about the T-15, but as he continued to read the letters contents, the professor's face became grave. He furrowed his brow and absently waved his hand, knocking down a beaker full of some thick purple-colored goo. The purple fluid sizzled and ate through the workbench's wooden surface, but Colbert paid it no mind. Finally he looked up at Vasya.<p>

"Then it's true...the rumors are true."

Captain Bylinkin nodded sadly.

"Yes, the Reconquista invasion fleet at Brugues was just a ruse, and we lost Dunkerque as a result."

Colbert's face grew ashen as he looked back down at the letter.

"And...is Konrad really wanting to use the burning hellfire? But the effects, I thought he..."

Vasya interrupted him.

"Colonel John Konrad knows what he is doing, he said you were to follow his instructions to the tee. You are to arm the white phosphorus ordnance into the AC-130 gunship, and have it ready to fly on moment's notice, then await further instructions from Konrad."

The Russian looked over his shoulder, and lowered his voice.

"You are also to speak to absolutely no one about this. It is imperative to the success of the 33rd's mission, and indeed the safety of Tristain is at stake."

Colbert dipped his head once, and adjusted his glasses. Vasya had hoped that he professor would not completely understand what he was doing, as it would make it easier for him to follow orders, but he could tell that Colbert knew exactly what Konrad intended to do. The Russian put a hand on the professor's shoulder.

"War is a terrible thing, Comrade Professor. Soldiers aren't always the gallant chivalrous knights that the stories make them out to be. Sometimes, it may be difficult for a civilian to understand this."

The professor gave a weak smile to Vasya.

"Actually Captain Bylinkin, I know exactly what you mean. I was a soldier as well, once."

A haunted look came over Colbert as he shuddered.

"And I know all too well about doing terrible things by following orders."

He straightened up, took his staff and turned to leave.

"Inform Konrad that I will have the Gunship ready within a day, and I will await further instructions. If you require nothing else I must be off to my next class-"

Vasya stopped the professor.

"Actually, if you don't mind, could you tell me where the wounded from the Battle of Brugues are being kept?"

* * *

><p>The academy's ballroom, which served as an improvised triage unit was immense, but what struck Vasya was that practically every space available was taken up by cots where lay wounded Sharpshooters and students alike. Vasya walked among the rows, looking over each occupant. Some had superficial wounds, others were obviously dying, and many were in between. Finally the Russian saw a familiar blonde girl with a pair of long pigtails. As he approached the two cots Beatrice stood up from a small stool where she was seated. Far from the arrogant spoiled <em>tsarevna<em> Vasya encountered during the T-55 training, the girl's face was sad and careworn, the dirty smock she wore over her school uniform spattered with old blood.

"How are the girls doing, Rapunzel?"

The girl's eyes shimmered with tears as she spoke.

"Both are still gravely wounded."

She pointed to the cot on the left, and it took Vasya a moment to recognize Katie. The young girl's entire right side was swathed in plaster, and her head was bound up in linen bandages that were stained with fresh blood.

""Katie over here had a shattered arm and collarbone, but the worse damage was the head injury."

Beatrice sniffed a bit.

"The healers have no way of curing her head injury. Sometimes she sleeps peacefully, other times she burns up with a fever and is delirious."

Vasya nodded grimly. He was no surgeon, but he knew that Katie was probably suffering from internal bleeding in her brain. As he knelt beside Katie, the girl's eyes opened, and they focused on him. She spoke in a feeble voice.

"I-I'm sorry, Captain Bylinkin, we got hit, I forgot my training."

The old soldier gave the girl a warm smile and stroked her cheek.

"Hush, my little _Chizhik_. It doesn't matter now. We won, and you did a great job fighting off that tank."

He chuckled.

"Next time don't try to stop shell with your head."

He stood back up.

"Now, you get your rest my little songbird, and get well. When you've regained your strength I'll show you how to make a_ borscht_."

Katie smiled, and closed her eyes again. Vasya stared at the girl for a long time before speaking up.

"What about Lisette?"

The blonde girl almost broke down into tears as she responded.

"Lizzie is worse. She was wounded by a Reconquista bullet, and the surgeons cannot get to it to remove it."

If he could barely recognize the youngest member of the group, Vasya couldn't even tell if the girl in the other cot was Lizzie. Her skin had taken on a dull, waxy complexion, her lips were almost colorless and grey, and the girl convulsed in her sleep with agony. Her once lustrous green hair was now faded and matted. The captain knew right away what was slowly killing the girl.

"Lead poisoning."

He felt Beatrice tugging his sleeve.

"Please! Please Captain Bylinkin, please help my friends! I will pay you any price, I'll do anything to make them whole again."

Vasya tried to smile as he gently pulled the girl's small hand off his sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Beatrice, but this is something beyond me. If we were back on my home world, and we had access to top-notch physican, maybe."

He gestured around the ward.

"But here, I'm afraid I am as useless as the witch doctors."

The girl collapsed onto her stool, tears streaming down her cheeks as she wept. Vasya didn't know what to do, or if there was anything more to say, so he silently stepped away. He needed to be alone and he needed a cigarette badly.

Outside in the bright light and fresh air, the Russian breathed a sigh of relief. He looked around the deserted courtyard. The rest of the students must be at their classes, he thought to himself as he pulled out his cigarette pack. He lit one off a match and took in a lungful of the tobacco smoke.

"Goodbye to five minutes of health," he said out loud to nobody in particular as he took another puff. He heard a cough and quickly spun around.

There was an elf girl, with long blonde hair and wearing a traveling cloak. She looked like the elf Tiffania, but was shorter and less endowed. Quickly he extinguished his cigarette.

"Sorry for the smoke, elf-_devotcha_. What can I do for you?"

The girl looked up at Vasya with wide eyes.

"M-my name is Lucientia, I was wondering, have you seen Petya?"

Vasya grinned at the elf girl.

"So, you are girlfriend of my _Prapor_? Well I am sorry but he is back at palace with his other lover, the T-55."

Lucientia looked puzzled, so the Russian continued.

"He is repairing a tank, the siege engine we Outworlders use."

The girl smiled and nodded.

"Ah, good, I will go there then!"

She paused, and looked back.

"Sir, you are Vasiliy Bylinkin, right?"

Vasya suppressed a flinch at the girl mispronouncing his name, but nodded. The girl continued.

"Our Memory Keeper asks about you, and pines for the day when you will return to Her."

The Russian chuckled.

"Women are always needy, never understanding that War is going on. Tell her that when Reconquista is defeated I will return, if she wants me back sooner she can make spell to have them disappear."

The elf girl giggled at his quip.

"That's funny! Our Memory Keeper is great and wise, but there are limits to even her magical powers."

A light went off in Vasya's head, and he quickly grabbed the girl, who let out a startled squeak.

"Tell me, Lucie, can you transport me to the Keeper, now?"

* * *

><p>The darkness in the Keeper's audience chamber was broken by a bright flash of light, as Vasya stepped out of the Void Portal. It took him a moment to get his bearings, the travel still made him dizzy. Before he could react a pair of slender hands took his, and he felt soft lips pressed against his own. When he pulled back he smiled at the tall, regal figure with fiery orange hair.<p>

"Is good to see you too, my dear Asha."

He chuckled to himself.

"I'm glad it was you kissing me and not someone else, otherwise I would have had to fight you off."

The Keeper of Memories let out a musical laugh at his joke.

"Doubtlessly one of my children found you, for which I am grateful. But I wish that you would come on your own, and not to ask requests of me."

Vasya raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know I was going to ask something?"

Asha smiled again.

"My knowledge as a seer is great, I can even read minds."

She reached up and stroked his scarred and weather-beaten face with her fingertip.

"But for you, your intentions are written all over your countenance."

Vasya took her hand in his.

"Then you know what I am requesting of you. Can you help me?"

The Keeper was quiet for a long time, and her light grey eyes betrayed no emotion, but finally they started to shimmer, and she closed them.

"You know that these human mages are our enemy, that they have hunted my children, pushing us out into the Desert."

She opened her eyes again.

"Why would you ask me to heal two such mages?"

Vasya frowned at the prospect.

"If it is your safety, then you will not worry. Vasya has a T-15 Armata, and it will keep you safe."

The Keeper smiled and shook her head.

"'Tis not my safety I worry about, but that of my children. What is to stop these mages, if they are healed, from continuing in their quest to exterminate my children? Maybe in your world you do not have such fanatics..."

The Russian sighed, and nodded.

"Yes, my beloved, I know. I know all about fighting religious fanatics. They justify the atrocities they commit because their enemies commit greater atrocities in retaliation. Their enemies in turn find themselves justified because the fanatics commit said atrocities, and thus the circle of violence is perpetuated."

He sat down on one of the pillows, and the Keeper sat beside him.

"Let Vasya tell you a story. Back in my world, my companions were fighting religious fanatics, much like these mages. They were even called holy warriors, or _mujahideen_, in their native tongue. They would kill a couple my fellow soldiers, mutilate their bodies and leave them on display as a warning. Then we would send in tanks and helicopters, leveling a village in retaliation, so they would mutilate even more soldiers, and we would raze more villages. So the circle of violence went. One particularly bloody month, we had a province with a powerful warlord, whose contempt for the _mujahideen_ was well known."

He smiled thinly.

"The problem was that he liked the Soviet occupying forces even less. We constantly courted him, offering him weapons, money, anything that would help us root out the cave rats out of their nests."

Vasya paused.

"Then one day we received word that the warlord's firstborn son was sick. My commander saw this as an opportunity, so he dispatched my tank squadron over to the village. It turned out the boy was suffering from a severe case of pneumonia, so I sent for a medic with antibiotics to get the boy's fever down."

The Russian's lined face darkened as he recalled the next bit.

"Then, no sooner had the medic left the warlord's house then he was killed dead, by a single sniper bullet. I was livid, and the soldiers in my command were furious and wanted revenge. It would have been very easy to give in; I could have ordered my tanks to pound the village into rubble, or even call in an airstrike and let the dreaded _Krocodil _do the dirty work."

Vasya's face softened.

"But the warlord was also there, swearing that it was the filthy cave rats that did it. So, in that moment I had a choice to make, either take revenge, and continue the circle of violence, or take another, less pleasant option."

He smiled thinly to himself.

"My squaddies were furious, even Petya had thought I had lost my marbles. But in the end I decided I would personally escort a new medic to the village myself."

The Keeper sat next to him in rapt attention.

"What happened?"

"Well, the cave rat sniper was too cowardly to take on a fully armored T-55, so we made it into the village, and the medic administered the antibiotics. That morning the boy's fever broke, and the warlord gave me all the locations of the_ mujahideen_. And thereafter he was staunchly loyal to the Soviets."

He smiled at the Keeper.

"Sometimes, you have to make the first move, and it isn't the easiest move and you risk your life. But if you succeed, much good can come from it."

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristain Academy of Magic)<strong>

Vasya looked down at the two cots. He had directed the hospital orderlies to move Lisette and Katie to his quarters, and for added security made sure the door was locked, and left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed. He looked down and checked his chronometer. The old battered stainless steel Army issued watch showed 15:21, which meant that he had at least forty minutes before Beatrice would come back.

He then looked over to the elf girl Lucientia and spoke.

"Alright, coast is clear."

Lucie nodded gravely, and whispered an incantation in her own language. Sigils and bizarre runes appeared in the air, and formed a rough circle, while the center put off a green light and the lines forming the runes took on the same green hue. Finally, the Void Portal solidified, and with a bright flash of light, a figure emerged. The girl immediately dropped to her knees and lowered her head, but the Keeper of Memories merely smiled.

"Arise, my child of the Desert, and be watchful."

She looked over to the Russian, who gestured to the two cots.

"Here are the two patients, both are very gravely wounded, as you can see."

Asha approached the two cots, and her fair countenance wrinkled as she regarded the two girls with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Their injuries...so terrible. What horror did this to them?"

She looked up, and her grey eyes were bright with tears.

"Their injuries were caused by Outworlder weapons?"

Vasya nodded ruefully.

"In a manner of speaking. With the appearance of the 33rd, warfare here in Helkeginia was taken all up to 20th century."

The Keeper shuddered.

"Had I known, I would have had the Steel Dragon destroyed. Such wanton barbarism."

She knelt down beside Katie's cot, and placed her hands on the girl's bandaged head. The Keeper began singing softly in an ancient language that was neither elven nor human, and the spot where her hand touched began to glow. The light grew, until it became so brilliant that Vasya found himself looking away. Then, as soon as it started, it was over. The glow subsided, and Asha stood up.

Vasya looked down eagerly at Katie. The bloodied bandages and scars were gone, and Katie was softly breathing in her sleep. The Soviet officer put a hand on her forehead, and withdrew it, satisfied.

"Her temperature is down, and pulse is normal."

He looked at the Keeper, and noticed beads of perspiration on her forehead.

"Are you alright?"

Asha smiled.

"Healing spells require us to tap into our own mana to bring forth the healing magic, and the little one's injuries were severe."

Vasya immediately took her hand.

"Do you need rest? A drink perhaps?"

She shook her head.

"That will not be necessary, I am fine."

The Keeper turned to Lisette, and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, then quickly withdrew as if she were scalded. Asha trembled as she spoke.

"This one, she carries the mark of death. A potent poison swims in her veins, the likes of which I have never in my centuries of life have seen."

Vasya approached her and placed his hand on her bare shoulder. She turned around to face the Russian.

"She is dying from lead poisoning, my beloved."

The captain reached into his breast pocket and removed his Makarov pistol. He snicked a round from the chamber and held up the 9x18mm bullet.

"Courtesy of this, a bullet."

He looked back down at Lizzie.

"Can you save her?"

Asha the Keeper was silent, then she closed her eyes.

"This girl, her life means that much to you?"

Vasya nodded.

"It is my fault she was injured. I thought I could teach students to be battle-ready tankers, and she paid the price for my arrogance."

The Keeper took a step forward and knelt beside Lisette's cot.

"Then I will make her whole."

She placed a hand on Lisette's fevered forehead, and immediately the girl began to convulse in her cot. Asha began chanting in the same ancient language, but it was more forceful this time, and the air around Vasya grew cold. In contrast, Lizzie seemed to be burning up, and she still resisted Asha's touch. The Keeper uttered a final word, and an ominous black cloud like smoke coalesced around the girl's open mouth. The Keeper stood, and pushed a small chamber pot beside Lisette's cot, and not a moment too soon, for the girl shook with more spasms and vomited up black bile, which sizzled like acid where it splashed on the flagstone floor.

The Soviet officer looked at Asha, and his eyes widened. The Keeper was pale, even paler than before and her eyes rolled back into their sockets. Quick as lightening he grabbed the tall elf before she collapsed and held her close. She was still breathing, but faintly. He looked up to Lucientia.

"Lucie! Quick fetch some water, and whatever you elves use for revival!"

But as soon as the girl left the room, Asha's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at Russian soldier.

"I asked if you needed rest. Typical in elf, typical in woman, never admitting they need help."

The Keeper smiled.

"I am fine now, you need not worry."

She gestured to the sleeping Lisette.

"The poison has left her, and she is now whole."

Vasya looked over and marveled at the transformation. Her skin, once jaundiced and waxy was now a healthy pink, and he hair now had its former lustre. Like Katie she was peacefully sleeping. The Russian began to chuckle again, to the amusement of the elf elder.

"What makes you laugh, my beloved?"

He pointed to the two girls.

"Now I get pleasure of telling Rapunzel that her two friends were healed, and by an elf, no less."

Vasya started for the door.

"...And we will now see if your efforts will pay off..."

_(AN: So a nice bit of character development for Beatrice, and little bits of humor help offset the darkness that shows War Is Hell. In researching late 19th century battles where bullets were first introduced on a massive scale (like the American Civil War) I found that the vast majority of casualties weren't from the bullet wounds themselves but rather from lead poisoning or infections from the wounds, so Lizzie's wound reflects that._

_And on another note, good news, since I lopped this chapter roughly in half the next chapter is about 90% done, so I should have it up by the weekend, if not sooner. Until then!)_


	146. Healing in Time of War

_(AN: Wow...I, ah had originally planned on having this next chapter up and done on Saturday but alas that was not meant to be :( Ironically except for a scheduling conflict I was supposed to be in visiting a client in La Défense this week, thankfully I was still stateside when it went down. Thoughts and prayers go out to my parisiens and parisiennes in this difficult time. The parable that Vasya spoke of and its message resonates more now than ever, and that's all I'll say on the matter._

_But, as my rosbif friends would be fond of saying 'Keep Calm and Write On', so as promised, here's the next chapter. This is a relatively short chapter, but I had to chop off a section because it was interfering with the pacing.)_

* * *

><p><strong>(1600 hours local time, Tristain Academy of Magic)<strong>

Beatrice looked up from her studies and let out a squeal a glee at the sight that greeted her.

"Lisette! You're alright!"

The blonde girl leaped from her study desk, upending her quill and inkwell, and sending scrolls flying in all directions. But Beatrice paid it no heed, she rushed over and embraced her friend tightly, tears of joy streaming down her cheek. She looked up and saw a brown-haired girl standing next to the Russian officer. Still embracing Lizzie she turned and hugged Katie as well.

"And you as well, Katie!"

For a long five minutes Vasya stood off to the side, smiling but saying nothing. The sight of seeing Beatrice and her friends reunited warmed even the most cynical corners of the Soviet officer's heart. Truth be told, he would have wanted this moment to last forever, but he knew the second phase of this operation was rapidly approaching, and it would not be so joyful.

Finally Beatrice let go of her friends, and noticed Vasya standing there. Her blue eyes shimmered with happiness as she clasped her hands in his.

"I-I can never thank you enough, Captain Bylinkin! This is truly a miracle from the Founder Himself!"

She looked up at Vasya earnestly.

"Name your price, and I will pay it!"

The Russian shook his head.

"There, Rapunzel, you are wrong. I did not heal your friends, but I did bring in the person who did."

He gestured to the door.

"Come, I will introduce you to the one who brought your friends back from the dead."

* * *

><p>Beatrice followed Vasya through the Academy's kitchen and to a hallway that led to the servant's quarters. She spoke up hesitatingly.<p>

"A-are you sure this is where the healer is staying? I would think that a powerful mage would not deign to sleep in such lowly quarters."

She heard the Soviet officer chuckle.

"Careful, _Zlatovlaska_, I'm staying in these quarters as well."

The blonde's eyes widened.

"Oh! I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

Vasya shook his head.

"Is okay, Beatrice. But in spite of rank I am still just a soldier, and these quarters remind me of barracks back in Soviet Army."

He stopped at one door, and opened it. Beatrice peered inside: the room was spartan, there was just a bed, a small side table, and a chair. A single candle was lit, throwing a feeble light into the room. As she stepped in she there was someone else there besides her and Captain Bylinkin. Then, in the far corner, a feminine voice spoke.

"You wish to speak to the one who healed your friends, girl? I am the one you should thank, I am she who brought your friends back from the dead."

Beatrice couldn't place the accent, and for a moment she felt unsure about herself. The Soviet officer was still beside her, so she took comfort in that. The blonde girl cleared her throat and spoke in a hesitating voice.

"Yes, yes and moreover I wish to reward you for your service! I am a princess in the House of Guldenhorf, my family is very wealthy and I will pay any price you ask!"

The feminine voice spoke again.

"Guldenhorf, you say? I fear that the price I ask may be too much for you, girl."

The figure stepped out of the darkness and into the light. She was tall, regal woman with fiery orange hair, light grey eyes and fair skin. But what Beatrice noticed first were the long, pointed ears poking from the lady's hair. The blonde girl let out an exclamation.

"Y-you're an elf!"

The woman smiled coldly.

"You are a perceptive girl, for a human, to see that. But I am no mere elf. I am Asha Bel'inor, the Keeper of Memories and the leader of the Desert Elves."

Beartice stood dumbfounded, staring at Asha as if she were an apparition.

"You...are the Witch in the Desert? But that would make you hundreds, thousands of years old."

Vasya raised an eyebrow.

"If so, you look good for one so old."

The Keeper let out a laugh at the Russian's quip, and addressed the girl.

"I am older beyond your reckoning, girl. I was but a maiden when our goddess Sasha walked among us."

The elf's grey eyes hardened.

"Just as I was there when She was taken from us, taken as a Familiar by a by a mere mage. The one you call Brimir, the one you now worship as a god."

The blonde girl flushed, and pointed a finger at Asha.

"Show respect for our Founder, elf!"

The Keeper shook her head.

"Your Brimir was no god. He may have been more than a man, but he was no god."

"Liar! I will not listen to your blasphemy any more!"

The blonde turned to Vasya, flushing angrily.

"As for you! I asked you show me who healed my friends..."

She glared at the elf.

"...And instead you show me the leader of the elves, who blasphemes against our Brimir?!"

Vasya put a hand on Beatrice's shoulder.

"Cool your jets, Rapunzel, we not here to debate religion. You asked me to bring you to the one who helped-"

He pointed to the Keeper

"-and she is the one who helped."

Beatrice angrily shrugged his hand off her shoulder and glared at Asha.

"Elves don't help mages, elves are our enemies!"

A frown knitted the tall elf's perfect features, and she took a step forward.

"You are the enemies of my children because you have made it your religious duty to exterminate them!"

Beatrice started to raise her wand but was stopped by a rough hand that clamped over her arm. She looked up to see the Russian glaring at her.

"You will not harm her, Beatrice."

Vasya heard the Keeper let out a harsh laugh.

"Harm me? This pathetic girl is no more threat to me then a fly would be to you!"

The captain held the struggling Beatrice and glanced up.

"You're not helping, dear."

He then thumped the girl on her head, and shot her a glare that would have peeled paint. Beatrice, rubbing her head, quailed under his gaze.

"As for you, I have had to use much of my influence to heal your two friends. Don't make me break your head open and then have to have elf heal you."

Vasya pried the wand out of her fingers and stuffed it into one of his pockets.

"Now Beatrice, you will listen, and listen well because Vasya will only say this once. Your two friends were dying, there was nothing I or any healer could have done to prevent it from happening..."

He pointed to the Keeper.

"...Only powerful magic could have saved them, something that was beyond anything a human mage could perform. As it turns out I have a...personal connection to the Asha Bel'inor, and I convinced her to come here and heal your friends. Which she did."

He then pointed a finger at Beatrice.

"Now, here is the score: your hated enemy was willing to risk her life to save human mages - your friends - now I ask you, would you do the same?"

Beatrice's eyes were wide with shock, and finally she broke down into tears, crying into the Russian's chest.

"But this...this goes against all of our beliefs..."

Even Asha was surprised by the girl's tears. Vasya just held the girl as she cried.

"...of-of course I'm grateful, and if I could I would help...I would...B-but what can I do?"

Finally Vasya pulled out a clean linen napkin from one of his pockets and wiped away Beatrice's tears. He then took the girl's chin and raised it gently so she was looking at him.

"You can start by offering your gratitude to the leader of the elves. It is a start."

Beatrice sniffed once, and nodded. She straightened herself up, and turned to face the Keeper. The blonde girl then surprised Asha by bowing low.

"Asha Bel'inor, Keeper of Memories and Leader of the Desert Elves; I, Princess Beatrice Yvonne von Guldenhorf, humbly thank you for saving my friends. I cannot promise anything, but I vow that from this day forward I will nevermore raise a wand against an elf, for the kindness you have shown. By Brimir's Beard I swear this."

Asha's eyes widened at the girl's response, but then regained her composure and matched Beatrice's bow.

"Very well. I accept you thanks, and know that I will order my own children to rescind any acts of aggression against human mages, until, Sasha willing, a lasting peace can dwell over both of our nations."

Beatrice wiped the last of her tears, then she heard the center tower bell ringing.

"Oh dear! That's the dinner chime! I mustn't be late."

The blonde turned to Asha.

"Please excuse me, Keeper!"

She then turned to the Russian.

"Captain Bylinkin, I will reserve a spot at our table, if you choose to honor us with your company."

With that, the girl left, leaving Vasya with a warm feeling he hadn't felt since he first set foot in Afghanistan. The Keeper watched as the girl left, then she turned to Vasya. She slowly strode over to him, then reached out and clasped her slender pale hand in the Russian's tanker's own rough hands.

"You were right, my beloved. Perhaps this small act of generosity will be the seed that will grow to a lasting peace."

She stroked his cheek.

"And when that happens my children will sing songs of your courage for generations to come."

The Soviet officer shrugged deprecatingly.

"I'd say: _ne delí shkúru neubítogo medvédya_."

He saw the puzzled look on Asha's face and continued.

"It's from my mother-tongue. It means don't share the pelt of a bear you haven't yet killed. But you're right, it is a good start."

For a while the Keeper said nothing, but gazed fondly at Vasya, her grey eyes shimmering.b Finally she spoke.

"Will you now come back with me? You did promise that you were finished with the affairs of humans, after all."

Vasya smiled sheepishly.

"Well, there is still some work that needs doing. The Yankees, you know, have become soft living in this magical work, so is up to Soviets to tough them back up so they win this War."

The Keeper smiled again as she stroked his face again.

"There you go again, you forget that I can read your countenance like a scroll."

She lowered her hand sadly.

"This interlude has stoked your embers of yearning for your old life as a soldier. And you still long for it, even after all these years of peace."

Vasya reached out.

"Wait, my beloved! I will come back to you, I promise!"

The Keeper paused as he continued.

"I swear it to you, on my honor as an officer in the Soviet Army."

She smiled and turned to leave.

"Very well, then I will wait for you in the Desert, Vasya."

A large Void Portal appeared, and she paused, smiling coyly.

"But do not wait too long, lest I send my children to collect you by force."

Vasya laughed.

"Impatient woman! I will come home when I feel like it!"

The Keeper shared his laughter as she stepped into the portal, and it disappeared, but the echo of her laughter lingered. A growl in the Russian's stomach told him it was dinner time, and he decided to make his way to the dining hall.

* * *

><p>"Captain Bylinkin! Over here!"<p>

Vasya was marveling at how massive the student's dining hall was when he heard the familiar voice speak up over the din. He looked off to the side and saw Beatrice and Lizzie waving him over to their table. As he made his way there he almost collided with the small brown-haired girl carrying a large basket. He smiled as the breathless Katie set it on the table.

"So Katie what have you made this time?"

Katie took her seat and smiled.

"I wanted to make something for you, I hope it's good!"

Vasya opened the basket and pulled out a baked pastry.

"_Pal'chiki oblizhesh'! _ You still have the gift to make a good _pirozhok_, my little songbird!"

He gave Katie's head an affectionate pat, and the girl blushed at his compliments.

"With your looks and cooking skills you will have no problem finding a husband."

Lisette took a bite from the meat pastry and smiled.

"What about that beet stew you were telling us about, Captain Bylinkin?"

Vasya shrugged.

"Ah, to make a good _borscht_, that takes skill! My grandmother and mother had a perfect recipe for it, but it takes three hours or more to make."

He smiled at Katie.

"When we have time, I will show you..."

He had almost finished his first helping when another couple came up to the table. The blonde fop waved his rose wand and gave a flourishing bow.

"Well met, Captain Bylinkin! May I introduce my beloved girlfriend, the beautiful and delicate Montmorency!"

Vasya paused to take a look at the _palvin_'s girl. She was short, short as the pink-haired girl with the explosive temper whose name escaped the Russian, with blonde hair arranged in ringlets and tied with a pink bow. She was also carrying an orange toad, which Vasya found odd. He also saw that the girl was scrutinizing him as well, and she wrinkled her freckled nose in obvious displeasure.

"An officer? But what your clothes, good sir? Why, they're nothing but patched rags!"

A terrified look appeared on Guiche's face, and he started to babble while sweating profusely.

"I-I-Er! Haha, my beloved MonMon, you're so indelicate hahahahaha!"

The Russian chuckled humorously at Guiche's nervous laughing. It was obvious that _Stilyaga _feared Vasya's wrath. A good thing, too. Vasya shrugged as he helped himself to another meat pastry.

"Is true, Blondie, I left my dress uniform back in Afghanistan, but in fairness I do not have much use for it here."

He nodded to the amphibious reptile the Montmorency was holding.

"You always bring frog to dinner to catch flies? Or are you hoping to kiss him and reveal a prince?"

Montmorency blushed.

"N-No! This is my familiar, Robin!"

Before Vasya would ask what a familiar was, there was a loud hiss of static coming from the volumous side pocket of his tanker coveralls.

_"HQ to Captain Bylinkin, respond!"_

It sounded like one of the officers, but Vasya pulled the radio out of his pocket and keyed the mic.

"This is Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin, stand by."

He stood up and looked over to the trio.

"Sorry girls, but I have to take this. Enjoy the _pirozhok_."

He walked towards the kitchen and past the cooks preparing food, then through the hallway off the kitchen to his quarters. When the door was shut and locked Vasya keyed the mic again.

"This is Captain Bylinkin, I am now in secure location, proceed."

The voice that spoke through the static was Konrad.

_"Captain, this is Colonel John Konrad, requesting a sit-rep on your mission."_

Vasya nodded.

"Mission is accomplished."

There was a pause, Konrad switched to speaking Russian.

_"Thank you, Comrade Captain. How did the professor take the news?"_

The Soviet officer responded in the mother tongue.

"As well as could be expected, he will follow orders and have the weapon ready by this time tomorrow."

Konrad then switched to English.

_"Good to know, Captain. I need you to report back to the palace early tomorrow morning. We have an Article 32 hearing at 0900, and I would like you to help preside over it._"

"Understood, Colonel Konrad. I will set out at first light tomorrow. Vasya out."

When the static went away the captain sat down on his bed and looked down at his tattered tanker coveralls.

"Blondie is right, I should have packed my dress uniform."

* * *

><p><em>(AN: So we have a bit more character development withBeatrice and her friends as well as the Keeper. Bonus points to anyone who gets the reference WRT her name. Well, we're going to have another interlude chapter after this one, then comes the Article 32 hearing, then the ultimatum, then Willy Pete makes his appearance!<em>

_Mwhahahahahah!_

_*ahem* _

_Yes...well I know this is a short chapter, but the good news is the next one should be up very soon. Should be up by tomorrow or Friday at the latest. Until then!)_


	147. Lend-Lease, Part Deux

_(AN: Well, that was quick! As promised here is the next chapter, in truth it was 90% done as of yesterday morning but it interfered with the pacing of the last chapter so I made it a stand-alone. As you might infer from the title, the Weaver is going to be up to her old tricks again :)_

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristain Academy of Magic, 2349hrs local time)<strong>

Vasya was lying on the bed in his quarters, unable to sleep. His mind was still reeling from the implications of the meeting between Beatrice and the leader of the Elves. The fact that he had to help his old friend Konrad preside over a hearing also weighed heavily on his mind, and try as he might he still couldn't sleep. He checked his battered chronometer. It was almost midnight, and at this rate he would never get any sleep.

_**"You should be proud of what you have done, Vasiliy Ivanovich Bylinkin." **_

The Soviet officer sat up, and saw the Beautiful Lady was sitting on the edge of his bed. He chuckled as he threw aside the covers and stood.

"I wondered if you would show up again, Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_."

The Lady smiled at him.

_**"It took courage to enlist the help of the elves. But know that your actions will sent in motion events that will undo millenia of animosity between the elves and the human mages."**_

Vasya returned the Lady's smile.

"Is good to know."

He glanced down at his rumpled and tattered tanker coveralls.

"I have a formal military inquest to help preside over, and I left my dress uniform back in Afghanistan."

The Russian looked back up at her.

"I don't suppose you could do something about that?"

The Lady cocked her head to one side.

_**"I think I can accommodate you."**_

She snapped her fingers, and in a bright flash of light a bundle of clothes appeared on the bed. There was white uniform shirt, crisply pressed and folded neatly, on top of which was a green necktie. Beside it was a dark green tunic with three gold buttons on the front, a pair of matching dress trousers and polished black shoes. A red-trimmed peaked officer's cap rounded the affair out, and Vasya even noticed that the shoulder boards were an Army Captain's rank.

Vasya marveled at it, and picked up the officer's cap to inspect it. It was in pristine condition and there was no name tag inside, as if it just arrived from the factory. The Russian ran his hand through his hair. Must pay a visit to the barber before I would wear this beauty, he thought and chuckled.

"First an IFV, then the uniform... I would love to see how those in power in the Motherland would react about your shopping trips, Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_!"

The Lady smiled enigmatically.

* * *

><p><em>March 23 2016, Siberian taiga, 1430 hours local time<em>

Senior Lt. Anatoly Filotov wiped the sweat beading off his forehead as he peered through his tank's optic sighting. Even though it was a _taiga_ and technically still winter in Siberia, it still felt hot as hell in the cramped confines of the T-72 tank that he was commanding. He pushed away from the command periscope and cursed.

"_Blya_! No sign of our quarry!"

His gunner, a young junior sergeant named Evgeniy, spoke up through the radio earpiece.

_"What do you expect, Comrade Starley? The T-14 Armata is a feat of modern engineering! Why, I wouldn't be surprised if it had a cloaking device on it."_

The tank officer heard laughing over the radio, but he was in no mood for jokes. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and spoke into his radio.

"Nevermind that, why the hell did Alexey get command of the shiny new prototype and I got stuck being the 'enemy' target in this old bucket of bolts?!"

He heard Evgeniy scoff through the radio static.

_"Because Comrade Praporschchik Alexey Zavidov is a brownnoser of the first class, it is a well known fact that if Colonel Sadovenko ever came to a sudden stop then Alexey's nose would go straight up the colonel's arse!"_

That earned a chuckle from Tolya.

"Ha! I would pay to see that, Evgeniy!"

The viewscreen was momentarily obscured as the tank ploughed through a deep mud puddle. Tolya growled and switched channels to speak to the tank's driver.

"_Pizdets_! Yuriy, watch where you're going! This isn't an amphibious vehicle!"

Suddenly Tolya felt the tank lurch, and he heard a grinding clattering noise as the T-72 slowed down.

"What the fuck happened?!"

_"We appear to be stuck, Comrade Starley..."_

Tolya seethed and bellowed into the general command channel.

_"Blyaaaaaad!"_

He opened the main hatch and climbed down to inspect the damage. The venerable tank had sunk up to the hubs in muddy water, and the lieutenant could see that the starboard tank treads had jumped off their tracks. He cursed again and snarled down into the open hatch.

"Alright, it is official, we are stuck in mud! Yuriy, get the fuck out here and give me a hand with this, Evgeniy, go get the pry bar out of the toolbox."

As his driver pulled himself out of the hatch Tolya glared at him.

"...And if this thing isn't fixed in ten minutes I'm drowning you in this muddy shit!"

His gunner Evgeniy opened up the toolbox and pulled out a long crowbar. They weren't five minutes into struggling with the tread, Toyla pushing on the pry-bar and Yuriy trying to get the tank tread back into the track grooves, when they heard an rasping voice.

"Excuse me, young man, could you tell me where the tank base is?"

Tolya looked up and saw an old _babushka_ standing on the edge of the mud puddle. She must have been ancient, for the old crone was supporting herself with a battered old cane, her clothes were patched and threadbare, and her face covered by an old scarf. Irritated, the lieutenant glared at the old woman.

"Listen you stupid hag, what do I look like to you, a traffic warden?! Can't you see we're fucking busy?"

The old woman cocked her head and Tolya heard her cackle through her scarf.

"Why, what on earth is the matter? Having mechanical trouble, young man?"

The old hag's impudence was too much for Tolya, and he exploded.

"What's the fucking matter? I'll tell you what the fuck's the fucking matter! Our fucking tank tread fucking broke in the fucking middle of this fucking mud hole, and now we're fucking trying to fix in whilst up to our fucking knees in fucking mud!"

The woman just stood there, and for a moment Tolya thought he had gone too far as the babushka raised her cane as if to strike him for having such a dirty mouth. But instead, the old woman held her cane high over her head and waved it. There was a blinding flash, and tiny glowing motes of gold, blue and green drifted down like snow over where the old woman stood, but the _babushka_ was gone.

In her place stood a tall, beautiful woman with ivory-fair skin. Her beauty was almost otherworldly, and Tolya could do nothing but ogle at her, for her slender but shapely form was practically visible through her gossamer thin silky raiment. It took Tolya a few seconds to register that the lady standing before him had long flowing green hair, and a small part of him tried to remember half-forgotten stories his mother used to tell him as a child. Finally the lady spoke in a seductive, sultry voice.

_**"How would you like to be royally fucked, Handsome?"**_

Her words aroused the Tolya, and he took another long, salacious look at her figure and slender bare legs, then grinned.

"Absolutely!"

She gave a mischievous smile.

_**"As you wish."**_

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers, Tolya heard a loud _Clang! _followed by a splash. He turned around and saw that his tank's turret was lying lazily off the armored chassis, completely detached. All three of the tankers stood dumbfounded at the sight, then Tolya looked back the beautiful lady had vanished.

* * *

><p><em>March 23 2016, Military Detachment 4316, Commander's Office, 1700 local time<em>

Colonel Sadovenko rubbed his eyes as he reviewed another report. This week had been a busy week for the base commander, first a trio of incompetent officers managed to lose a T-15, earning the ire of Deputy Minister Bulgakov, then the Russian President himself visited the base. He chuckled briefly to himself at the memory of seeing the three officers quail in the sight of their Supreme Commander.

It was on a cold, crisp morning that the Russian President arrived on the base to view the new prototypes, and to see them in action. Interestingly enough he had brought Deputy Minister Bulgakov with him as well. After hearing his report the only request the President had made was that the three delinquent officers were to be in attendance with him as he oversaw the new T-14 Armata going through its paces.

Sandovenko recalled standing beside the Russian President in the viewing stands overlooking the base's proving ground. He remembered the President lowered his binoculars after the T-14 had traversed a tank trap, and glanced over to the colonel.

"I am impressed by the T-14's performance, Comrade Colonel."

He raised his binoculars again. From their vantage point the Russian officials could see the entire obstacle course that was adjacent to the military base. In addition to tank traps, the course simulated navigating different terrain, trenches, even mock fortifications and a muddy river bed. The President lowered the binoculars again, and looked over to the other three persons in the colonel's retinue. Unlike Bulgakov, and especially Sadovenko, who was as happy as child at Christmas, the other three officers looked like errant schoolchildren dragged into the headmaster's office for a whipping. Boris, Vlad and Andrey all quailed from the cold glare that their President directed at them and all three fervently wished they were somewhere else. Allowing himself a small smile, the President spoke again in his soft but menacing voice.

"Although it is a shame we couldn't see the T-15 put through it's paces, isn't it, gentlemen?"

When the three officers didn't respond the President's smile turned nasty.

"I take it that the Queen of the Water Nymphs hasn't deigned to return the T-15 IFV she borrowed?"

Colonel Sadovenko smiled to himself at his recollection of yelling at the three delinquent officers.

"Well? Your Supreme Commander has asked you idiots a question, ANSWER HIM DAMN YOU!"

The ringleader, a fat officer named Boris, meekly spoke up.

"N-no, Mr. P-President, it has not reappeared yet."

The President smiled again as if it were a joke and turned back to Bulgakov.

"I don't know about you, Comrade General, but I find it absolutely baffling how a _rusalka_ would bother to steal a tank in any case."

He gestured to the three officers.

"I mean, she had her choice of these three such exemplary specimens of manhood, and yet she deigned to steal a tank. Rather amusing, don't you agree, Comrade General?"

Sadovenko recalled with pride how the President had commended the young tank commander who piloted the T-14. After the exercise was over they dismounted from the viewing stands and made their way down into the courtyard. The T-14 rumbled into view, and came to an idling stop. The tank was non the worse for the wear, aside from its once pristine hull now covered in sticky brownish green mud. A young officer with _Praporshchik_ shoulder boards stepped out of the hatch and gave a stiff salute. The President smiled a more genuine smile and returned the salute.

"Well, done Comrade. Your performance was exemplary. I will see to it that your record shows as much. Carry on."

The _Prapor_ saluted, and smartly marched back to his tank. The President watched as the T-14 rumbled to life and drove off to the motor pool, then he turned his hard gaze at the three trembling officers.

"It still remains to be seen what is to be done with you three. The Russian Military code of justice doesn't have an entry for an officer who allows a beautiful fairy to steal Federal government property."

Colonel Sadovenko approached.

"Mr. President, the Minister had suggested I have their balls cut off and fed to your pet tigress."

The colonel recalled the looks of abject terror on the three officer's faces.

"...I would gladly enact this punishment if you give the order, sir."

The president smiled wickedly as he and the Minister shared a laugh.

"It is tempting Comrade Colonel, but no. I wouldn't want my beloved Illiona to suffer indigestion."

He turned back to the officers.

"This incident will go on all of your permanent records, make no mistake about it."

Overhead the Mi-8 with Russian Air Force livery buzzed overhead and slowly descended as it landed on a landing platform on the far side of the base. The President's adjunct leaned forward.

"Sir, it is time to go."

The President waved off his assistant and started to follow, but suddenly stopped and turned to face three officers.

"Oh, almost forgot one thing."

Boris, Andrey and Vlad shuddered as the President fixed them with his trademarked glare. They shuddered from the President's poisonous tone as he spoke and gestured to the filthy T-14 parked in the motor pool.

"Clean all this shit out, _Privates_."

Seeing the three officer's faces fall was a priceless memory to the colonel, and he chuckled again His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. After he called the visitor in, the door opened and a younger officer whose fatigues were stained to the knees in mud gingerly stepped in.

"Senior Lieutenant Anatoly Filotov, reporting as requested, sir!"

Sadovenko sighed to himself again. He knew the lieutenant's father, Captain Yegor Filotov, who was a good man and a decent officer from the Soviet era with a clean if undistinguished career in the Afghan theater. His son Tolya, on the other hand, was a walking cluster-fuck. He returned the salute and picked up a requisition form.

"Comrade Lieutenant, I would assume there is a reason you returned from the war games without your T-72 tank, and putting in a request for a BREM."

The young officer gulped slightly and nodded.

"No, I-I mean yes, sir. We were performing maneuvers in Grid 14-D, when we encountered technical difficulty."

The colonel glanced down at the report.

"It says here that your tank's turret is nonfunctional, did the auto-loader jam up again?"

The lieutenant shifted his posture and looked uncomfortably down at his muddy boots.

"Comrade Colonel, the turret didn't malfunction...it-it fell off, sir."

Sadovenko raised an eyebrow.

"Fell off? Lieutenant Filotov, would you mind telling me just how a turret falls off a T-72 tank? These aren't the old T-34's, after all."

The colonel chuckled humorlessly.

"Unless you encountered a beautiful _rusalka_ who hexed your tank and caused the turret to fall off..."

Tolya's eyes widened with surprise.

"How did you know, Comrade Colonel? Have you seen her, too?"

Colonel Sandovenko seethed visibly, and veins in his forehead popped out in base relieve as he drew a deep breath.

Evgeniy and Yuriy stood at attention outside the base commander's office, and flinched at the sudden outburst that exploded from inside, the colonel was shouting at the top of his lungs. Neither Evgeniy nor Yuriy could make out what was being said, but whatever it was Colonel Sanovenko definitely didn't sound happy.

Yuriy turned to his fellow tanker.

"I spoke with Boris, one of the officers who got demoted? He said that the_ rusalka_ we encountered in the forest is the same one that stole the T-15!"

He shook his head.

"This place must be cursed!"

* * *

><p><em>March 24 2016, Military Detachment 4316, Recruit's Common Area 0200 local time<em>

Private Oleg yawned as he stopped at a T junction that led off from the officer's barracks. He shined his torch down the hallway that led to the classroom where the new blood would receive instruction on the tanks. The private reminded himself to get more coffee at the canteen, or else he'd never make it through the 3rd shift guard duty. A faint green glow caught his eye, and he directed the beam of light in that direction. The glow was emanating from Classroom B-1, he could see it through the pebbled glass window on the classroom door. Oleg cursed to himself, he hoped it wasn't the recruits attempting a prank, or there would be hell to pay for everyone.

He turned the doorknob and found it locked. Strange, the private thought to himself, these classrooms were on the second story, so the only way in was through the door, unless someone stole the key. He fumbled with his own master keychain, and finally unlocked it. A strong reprimand on the guard's lips died as soon as he opened the door. The sight that greeted the private robbed him of his breath and speech. The source for the soft, glowing light was in fact a tall, slender lady, her long tresses swished gently as if teased by a nonexistent breeze. As his eyes adjusted, Oleg saw a hauntingly beautiful visage partially concealed by her long hair, which was an emerald green. She was dressed in a flowing thin nightgown of purple edged in gold, but she still had not noticed the guard.

The lady was staring intently at an instructional board that showed detailed specifications of the new T-14 Armata tank, her head tilted to the side as if she were an art critic studying an Old Master painting. To the lady's right was a display case showing off a prototype of the new Army dress uniform, while Oleg still stood in the doorway to her left, still transfixed by her beauty. Ironically the private felt as if he were an interloper interrupting the lady's private space, but he finally cleared his throat.

"Er, excuse me, Lady, but you really shouldn't be here..."

That did the trick, the otherworldly creature turned sharply, directing her gaze to him. She had large eyes that were the same shade of green as her hair, and the longer Oleg stared into her eyes, the more he felt like he was being bewitched, or placed under some sort of spell. Faintly he remembered old fairy tales his great-grandmother told him, and even though he was armed with his AK-74, he still felt a cold finger of fear on his spine.

The lady approached him, and spoke in a soft voice like silk rippling over a maiden's skin.

**_"It would appear you have caught me, Private Oleg Vicktorov."_**

She tilted her head and smiled.

_**"But you won't raise the alarm will you?"**_

The smile made Oleg remember more of the old tales, tales of supernatural beings that were as deadly dangerous as they were beautiful. He felt himself shaking his head as he backed away from the Lady.

"Please, Lady _Rusalka_, or whatever you are, don't hurt me!"

The Lady let out a melodious giggle, like ice cubes tinkling in a crystal glass.

_**"Very well, but only if you will answer me this question..."**_

When the guard nodded, the Lady turned and pointed to the poster of the Armata.

_**"This wondrous machine, what is it, and where might I find one?"**_

Oleg sighed in relief.

"Oh, that is easy, thought you were going to ask impossible riddle of Sphinx or something. That is the new Armata combat chassis, Tank designated T-14. We have a prototype on base here where we put it through tests and..."

The private's voice trailed off, and he felt like he had just spoke too much. The Lady gave another angelic smile.

_**"I thank you for your candor, Private Oleg Vicktorov, but now I must go."**_

Before he could react the Lady reached out with a slender hand and touched his forehead with the tip of her finger. Her touch felt electric, and immediately his vision grew dark, his head felt heavy like he was floating in a deep ocean of darkness. Then, suddenly he could hear incoherent growling. Then his vision reappeared, and when his eyes refocused he saw his_ Starshina_ shaking him awake.

"Oleg! Wake up you idiot! If the Colonel catches you asleep he'll have both our heads!"

The private rubbed sleep from his eyes, his movements still sluggish. He felt like someone had slipped him a sleeping pill.

"What is the matter, Comrade _Starshina_?"

The senior NCO helped Oleg to his feet.

"The colonel's on the warpath, first we lost the T-15 to Boris and his two idiot buddies, then Tolya screwed up the T-72-"

Private Vicktorov shook his head.

"I thought they were having trouble with the turret?"

The _Starshina_ nodded.

"Yes, because the whole bloody turret came off! And now just this morning one of the officers reported his dress uniform stolen! Worst of all, every single one of them blame it on a _rusalka_..."

That made the private's face fell.

"Umm, Comrade Starshina, there was an intruder in room B-1 last night, it was a _rusalka_, it must be the same-"

His voice was muffled as the old sergeant clamped his hand over the private's mouth.

"Keep your voice down! If the colonel or his toadies hear you say that it's our arses!"

The _Starshina_ chuckled nervously to himself.

"Shit, maybe Evgeniy is right, maybe this place is cursed."

He led Oleg through the hall to the commissary.

"Even if you did see a beautiful lady with long green hair, do NOT report it to the colonel, whatever you do! I'll cover your arse this time, private, but if you value your hide keep your bloody mouth shut!"

* * *

><p><em>March 24 2016, Military Detachment 4316, Motor Pool Area 0900 local time<em>

"I swear, what is wrong with these stupid rookies?!"

Boris cursed as he scrubbed more mud off the T-14's exterior. The dubious honor of cleaning the prototype tank fell to the base's three newest privates; Boris, Andrey and Vlad. The latter was attempting to dislodge a large clod of mud from the Armata's armored skirt. His friend, who was wiping mud off the headlights, spoke up.

"Quit complaining, Boris we got off easy."

Vlad shrugged as he continued.

"Both the colonel and General Bulgakov were out for blood. We were lucky Comrade Supreme Commander was in such good spirits."

Boris threw down his sponge.

"Fuck this, I'm getting a cigarette."

He stood up and climbed up the rear of the tank by the engine's protective grating. He was about to pull himself up onto the tank's hull, only to freeze. There, sitting on the back edge of the tank's turret, was a beautiful woman preening her long green hair with a silver brush. Her silky dress trailed down the side of the tank, and laid bare her slender legs, almost up to her waist. The sight of a such a beautiful lady with all the goods on display would have titillated any other man. But to Boris, the otherworldly lady's appearance meant only one thing, and had the exact opposite effect, that of bowels-voiding terror.

"No..." He whispered in a small voice.

The lady stopped brushing her hair and looked over to him. She seemed amused at his consternation, and spoke in that same musical voice as before.

_**"Why, Boris, are you not gladdened to see me again?"**_

Andrey's voice sounded from below as he grabbed the grates on the side of the engine compartment to climb up.

"_Blya_! I'm out of cigarettes Boris can I borrow-"

His eyes widened at the sight of the Lady.

"Oh, shit! Not you again!"

The Lady appeared amused at Vlad's consternation, and let out a light giggle.

_**"Yes, I'm afraid I require more help."**_

It took Vlad and Andrey exactly four seconds to realize the subtext of what the Lady was saying, and they looked down at the tank and back to her. Vlad's mouth flapped wordlessly, Andrey facepalmed. Boris finally was able to work his jaws enough to speak.

"No, please! Lady _Rusalka_, please don't do it, the colonel...he will kill us!"

The Lady merely gave a beatific smile and raise her hand, poised to snap the fingers.

_**"I am sorry, but I require this T-14 Armata."**_

She snapped her fingers before any of them could react, and immediately her and the tank vanished. The three officer's turned privates stood suspended in mid-air for a millisecond before falling to the floor of the motor pool in a heap. Vlad cursed as he pulled himself off the concrete floor.

_"Pizdets...Polniy Pizdets, _Andrey._"_

Andrey shook his head.

"I told you this place was cursed, Boris."

Suddenly they heard a new voice bark out at them.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

All three soldiers looked up and blanched. Colonel Sadovenko was standing at the entrance of the motor pool, glaring at them.

"I thought I told you to get that T-14 cleaned up for noon parade!"

The colonel looked around.

"Speaking of which, where the fuck is that tank?"

Boris opened his mouth, but the colonel interrupted him.

"-And, as God and His Holy Mother as my witness, if you tell me that a beautiful green-haired _rusalka_ stole it I'm going to have all three of you shot!"

* * *

><p><em>March 25 2016, Moscow Defense Ministry, 1300 hours local time)<em>

Deputy Minister Bulgakov was sitting at his desk, writing a report, when someone knocked on the door.

"Enter!"

The minister was so engrossed in his writing that he didn't even look up as his young adjunct entered the office nervously.

"A-another communication, from Military Detachment 4316, Comrade General."

Still he didn't look up.

"Hmm, old Yura's a little early in his report. Very well, put it on the desk, and I'll get to it soon enough."

The young officer hastily placed a communication on the minister's desk and fled like a rabbit. Bulgakov found that odd, he had no idea why his adjunct was so nervous. He set his pen down thoughtfully, and after a while his curiosity got the better of him. He reached out for the communication envelope, and found it marked TOP SECRET. As he opened it, Bulgakov wondered why his adjunct hadn't waited. After reading the first few lines, his eyes widened and he realized just why.

_"Ohuyet'…"_

Thirty minutes later Deputy Minister Bulgakov's staff car pulled up the entrance of the Kremlin. The two guards waved it through the gates, and when it stopped at the curb, one guard opened the door and let the minister out. Bulgakov made his way through the interior of the government building, his boots clicking on the marble floors. He took no notice of the sumptuous filigree on the pillars or the priceless artwork hanging on the walls, all holdovers from the decadent days of the Tsar. Instead, Minister Bulgakov was trying to come up with a way to break the news to the President. He paused at a large door, and showed his credentials to the guard. The man nodded and stepped inside. Within two minutes he stepped back out.

"The President will be out momentarily, Comrade General Bulgakov."

Sure enough, the doors eventually opened, and a tall man with silver hair and a large chin was protesting loudly in American-accented English as he was ushered out. Bulgakov did not understand much, but he seemed to remember seeing the man on TV as the American foreign secretary. Then out stepped the Russian President.

"Comrade General, I'm sure there is a reason why I was pulled out of a meeting."

Bulgakov gave a bow of apology.

"I'm sorry Mr. President, but this couldn't wait."

The President gave a dismissive wave his hand.

"Not to worry, I have been having to listen to the Buffoon's foreign secretary whine at me like a kicked dog for the better part of two hours, and I was glad for the interruption."

The Deputy Minister nodded.

"What is it this time, Syria?"

The president shook his head.

"Still trying to tell us our business regarding our domestic policy...such arrogance."

He paused, and looked back at Bulgakov.

"So what is this Top Secret business, and why are you so nervous, Comrade General?"

He gave an uncharacteristic grin.

"Let me guess Dima, that tank-thieving _rusalka_ in Siberia is up to her old tricks?"

As soon as he saw the horrified look on the minister's face, the grin vanished from the President's face, replaced by a hardened expression.

"Don't tell me..."

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later)<strong>

The President glared at the man in the monitor screen that he and Deputy Minister Bulgakov was tele-conferencing in to. They were in the president's office, and communicating over a secure channel with the highest level of encryption, although given the content of the conversation neither one thought it would be an issue if it were leaked. Colonel Sadovenko nervously fingered the collar of his shirt as he continued.

"...I-I didn't believe it myself until I saw it, Mr. President! A-at first I thought it was some kind of sick joke, given who the perpetrators were. But the security footage inside the motor pool is..."

The President massaged his temples.

"Comrade Colonel, will you please stop stammering and tell me what this is all about."

The colonel took a deep breath and continued.

"Very well. Mr. President, as you know we have CCTV cameras set up at various points in our base, more so at ours because of the prototype Armatas. Yesterday at 09:04 hours 37 seconds the camera started malfunctioning, experiencing some sort of interference, and for thirty seconds the entire signal is completely scrambled. Then, at exactly 09:05 hours, 12 seconds, the signal clears up, and there are the three privates, but no tank."

The president leaned back in his chair, pensive.

"I see."

The colonel continued.

"Whatever the circumstances, it is impossible to steal a tank from the motor pool in just thirty seconds flat, sir. Why, just the startup procedure alone takes five minutes!"

Deputy Minister Bulgakov scoffed.

"Bullshit! You're trying to tell us that a T-14 Armata vanished into thin air?"

The minister's rant was held in check by a wave of the President's hand.

"Is there anything else, Comrade, Colonel?"

Col. Sadovenko nodded.

"There is one more thing, sir. After the incident I had my technical officer, who is a wizard with computers, attempt to descramble the footage, to get to the bottom of it."

"And, was he successful?"

"Most of the footage was ruined beyond repair, but through that mess he was able to recover one frame of the footage and clean it up."

"And?"

The colonel looked nervous.

"Well, sir, I think it's best you see for yourself."

The image of the colonel disappeared, and was replaced by a grainy image. Even digitally enhanced it took both Bulgakov and his superior a second to parse out the picture. There was the T-14 Armata in the motorpool, and standing on the side of tank was one of the delinquent officers, the fat one, by the look of it. But what caught both the Russian President's and his minister's eye was the figure perched on the rear of the tank's turret. It was difficult to make out details, but it was an unmistakably feminine figure with long green hair.

For the first time in his life the Russian President was at a loss for words, but finally spoke.

"_Chto eto za huynia_?"

* * *

><p><em>March 26 2016, FSB Headquarters (Kremlin Basement), 0700 hours local time)<em>

The President was being escorted down dull corridors lit by florescent lights. But he would not have needed a guide, for he knew these hallowed corridors like the back of his hand from his old days in the now-defunct KGB. The President himself felt a twinge of nostalgia, for this reminded him of the old days. He took a right a a T-junction and his guards opened the door. He knew this area all too well, the interrogation wing. He smiled to himself as he had personally selected the venue for this debriefing. He opened a door and inside small room were the three recently demoted privates, each with a look of abject terror on their faces. He gave them a sharklike smile.

"Welcome to the Kremlin, privates."

He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"I trust you found the trip to Moscow pleasant?"

The soldiers did not respond, but the President knew better. They had been awakened in the middle of the night and flown hop-scotch across Siberia for the last 10 hours, before being blindfolded and escorted here. His adjunct placed a metal briefcase on the desk, and opened it. The President pulled out a file folder marked TOP SECRET.

"Gentlemen, I would like to get your input on some classified information that has crossed my desk. Would you be so kind as to tell me what you see?"

He pulled out a photograph, the single frame and showed it to them.

"Do you recognize this, privates?"

Boris's eyes widened.

"Y-yes! Mr. President, that's her! That is the _rusalka_ who stole our tanks!"

The President took in the other two reactions as well, when they responded in the positive he leaned back in his chair.

"Interesting. Well, privates, it would appear as if you were telling the truth, and we were a bit...hasty in our judgement."

He took the photo and stuffed it back into the dossier, sealed it, then handed the briefcase back to his adjunct in the blue suit.

"...due to the extenuating circumstances and the evidence I have examined, I will be rescinding the executive order that demoted you. Your ranks will be restored and this black mark on your records will be expunged."

The three started to whoop with joy, but were interrupted by the President's cold gimlet-eyed glare.

"But make no mistake about this, you are all three to sign documents that will have you swear, under oath to the Russian Constitution, that none of this ever happened. As far as everyone is concerned the T-14 and the T-15 Armata were lost in transit to Military Detachment 4316 and written off. This affair will be locked away and classified Top Secret."

He continued to give the three officers a look that froze the blood in their veins.

"And if one word of this gets out I will hold the three of you personally responsible, and I will have your balls cut off and dropped into the nastiest gulag in Siberia where you will never see the light of day again! Is that clear?"

All three of them gulped, and dumbly nodded. The President then gave a friendly smile.

"Good. My adjunct Valentin will draft up the necessary paperwork, in the meantime enjoy your stay in Moscow..."

* * *

><p><em>(AN: The Weaver sure is getting bold these days, isn't she? And just a side note, her encounter with Tolya in the T-72 is based off a Russian joke where a Soviet tank commander encounters a Fairy Queen in the forest. All joking aside, it does beg the question of what exactly she needs a T-14 tank for? After all, after the Damned 33rd use the Willy Pete the war is sure to be over, right?<em>

_*cue evil laughter*_

_Maybe...maybe not. This is a SO:TL crossover, known for its cruel twists and turns. Anyways, don't be holding your breath on the T-14 making an appearance, it won't happen until after the 33rd undergo their Crucible. Next chapter will deal with the Article 32 Hearing, which I'll try and get up next week some time. Until then!)_


	148. Love in Time of War, Part Deux

_(AN: First of all I would like to apologize for the absence. It was a perfect storm of crazy busyness at work, a crashed hard drive that wiped out 2500-odd words of the story that had to be re-written, and a mild case of writer's block. The final straw was being shamed by one of the fans to get off my arse and get writing (thank-you Guest). But not to worry, the show will go on! _

_Part of the writer's block was researching the procedures of an Article 32 hearing in the US Military, and then getting it on paper. As I'm still struggling with it, the first part of the chapter was almost complete, so I lopped it off and made it it's own chapter. It delays things, but maybe getting this out the door will help jumpstart the creative juices. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Tristainia Palace, 0115 hours local time, the Thermae Bagnoire<strong>

Forbes finished lacing up his boots and stood up. He was in the small men's changing room adjacent to the Thermae Bagnoire, which consisted of a rough pine bench and a row of pegs for cloaks and clothing. His mission clothes were still rolled up in a bundle on the bench, and he made a mental note to himself to drop them off with the servants so they could be patched and cleaned.

The sergeant shouldered his M-4 and yawned as he started for the door. He barely had a chance to turn the knob when the door crashed open and a tall blue-haired girl charged in. She was wearing a bathrobe and had her hair tied up in a towel, details that Forbes had only seconds to take in before she tackled him to the ground in a tight hug. He struggled in the girl's gripe, and noticed a second pair of feet walk over and pick up his M4. Tabitha very lightly bonked her familiar on the head with her stave.

"Enough."

Illococoo looked up.

"Oh come on, big sis! I just like hugging Staff Sergeant Forbes!"

She looked down at the sergeant, who was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her large bust that was more or less at eye level and on display thanks to the open bathrobe.

"You like it don't you?"

Forbes struggled to come up with a response, but fortunately Tabitha beat him to the punch. She shook her head and gestured with her staff.

"Up."

Her familiar whined a bit more, but complied with her mistress and stood up. The bookworm held out her staff to Forbes, who accepted it as he pulled himself up.

"Thanks, Tabitha."

He looked over to her familiar.

"Illococoo, you really need to dial back that glomping, or I'll have your mistress put a bell around your neck!"

Tabitha said nothing but followed the sergeant out of the changing rooms as he opened the door. The hallway outside led to a four-way juncture, and for a moment the soldier forgot his bearings. He looked down at Tabitha.

"I...don't suppose you know the way back, do you?"

She gave another small smile.

"Know the way. Follow."

So Forbes followed Tabitha and her familiar through the warren of corridors, until she pushed open a large set of double doors. Now Forbes started to recognize where they were, this was the Grand Hall of the Palace. From there it was only a short distance to the ballroom that served as the 33rd's barracks. He looked down and was about to thank Tabitha, when suddenly a pair of speakers appeared overhead, and a familiar voice boomed through the hall.

_"Hey Hey Hey! Looks like King Lugo the Pedobear can give up his cradle-robbing crown, because we have ourselves a successor! Staff Sergeant Forbes managed to score himself not one but a whole harem of cuties!"_

Illococoo jumped visibly and darted her head back and forth.

"Hey, big sis! Where's that coming from?" She asked puzzled.

Tabitha's stoic face betrayed no emotion. Forbes rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

"Dammit Radioman! It's past zero dark thirty, it's too early for this shit!"

Darden responded as if he were in the room with Forbes.

_"Well, you should know that Radio Tristain is now into our Late Night Show, where we examine the sordid, steamy love-lives of the Damned 33rd in this world of big-eyed gals with even bigger boobies...well most of them, anyways...Little Miss Librarian there looks like she's even flatter than the Walking IED!"_

Forbes tried in vain to cover up Illococoo's ears from the Radioman's sleazy spiel.

"Knock it off, Darden! You know I almost ate a bullet trying to protect you from Delta Squad, right?"

If the Radioman heard Forbes, he chose to ignore it and continued.

_"Speaking about the palantír that was used in Operation Rainbow (see what I did there folks? That's called a segue) a certain sergeant owes the Radioman one travel-sized seeing stone, I mean don't get me wrong, using it as a improvised grenade; Brilliant! But seriously, you like, totally owe me one for that...but I think we can square things up if you'll answer me this riddle about your blue-haired harem: does the carpet match the dra-"_

**KABOOOOM!**

Both the speakers exploded in a shower of debris and sparks, causing Forbes to jump. He turned around and saw Tabitha with her staff raised over her head, her expression still neutral. She lowered her stave, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she spoke in a small voice.

"Too loud."

* * *

><p><strong>(The next morning, Tristainia Palace, 33rd Barracks)<strong>

Lt. Gordon snapped a crisp salute to Konrad.

"Colonel, 1st Lt. Gordon reporting in as requested, sir!"

Konrad returned the salute.

"At ease, lieutenant."

He glanced down at the paperwork on his desk.

"Are you ready, Gordon?"

The lieutenant smiled and pulled a thick book out of his bellows pocket. The leather binding was well worn, but the gold letters spelled out _US Military Justice Handbook: Uniform Code of Military Justice_ on the spine. Gordon gave the book and affectionate pat.

"Spent most of last evening brushing up, sir. I think we got this in the bag."

Konrad's face became stern.

"Lieutenant, the fact that we're in this bizarre magical world doesn't change the severity of the charges against Private Walker. I want this hearing to go by the book, we can't afford any screw-ups. Give me your honest no bullshit assessment, Lieutenant: what do you think?"

Gordon shrugged.

"Off the record? We both know the answer to that."

He glanced back at the lone figure still sound asleep on his cot.

"But, with all due respect to the prosecution, burden of proof is on him, not us."

The colonel's expression softened, and he nodded.

"I understand, Lieutenant. Just remember, Lord General du Poitiers took that shooting very personally. He already doesn't like our presence here and I know for a fact that he's not happy with the princess showing deference to yours truly. I suspect he's going to use this as an excuse to diminish our role within the Royal Tristianian Army, and I can't let that happen."

Gordon stood at attention and saluted.

"Then it will be my pleasure to metaphorically kick his ass in the hearing, sir!"

That elicited a chuckle from the colonel.

"Understood. Round up the rest of the soldiers, hearing is at 0900."

The lieutenant glanced back at the rows of cots and noticed one cot with several pouches of C4 dangling off it. The cot itself was empty, and appeared to be have not been slept in. A smile crossed Gordon's lips as he left the barracks and made his way to the guest wing of the palace.

Lt. Gordon rounded a corner and came upon a corridor lined with ornate doors, this must be the guest quarters, he thought. As he walked down the hall Gordon started counted the doors on the left, and paused at one. Gingerly he turned the knob and creaked it open just far enough to peek in. The sight that greeted him caused the lieutenant to smirk.

There, lying in the exact center of a massive four poster bed was SSG Forbes, fast asleep on his back. On one side of the massive bed was Sylphid's human form, bundled up in the covers and snoring like a chainsaw. On the side closest to the door lay the blue-haired bookworm Tabitha, who was sleeping softly and snuggling Forbes like an oversized teddy bear. On one of the ornately carved and upholstered chairs lay Forbes' ACU's, boots and his M4, looking as out of place as any of the 33rd would in this elegant setting. Gordon raised one of his hands and rapped sharply on the door frame panel, barking out in his most boot-camp-esque voice.

"Up and at `em, sar'ent! Knees to to the breeze in five!"

Illococoo snored away as if she heard nothing, but Forbes jolted awake, which in turn woke up Tabitha. She squinted for a moment before reaching over to the bedside table and putting on her glasses. She sat up and looked over at Lt. Gordon.

"Too early?" She said in her soft voice.

Gordon shrugged.

"Sorry missy, but the sarge is needed for morning roll call."

He gave the NCO a naughty wink.

"Although, Sergeant Forbes, I'm sure the colonel won't miss you for five minutes if you need a quickie before going."

With that he pulled the door shut on Forbes' protests, and he hadn't taken ten steps when the door was flung open. Forbes was pulling on his ACU jacket and juggling his boots as he called after the lieutenant.

"Lt. Gordon! Sir! Wait, it's not like that!"

The lieutenant watched as Forbes almost put his ACU trousers on backwards, and finished by buttoning his jacket crooked. He finally let out a chuckle.

"Relax, sarge, we're not in Dubai anymore it's okay. Hell, I'm paired up with an elf gal so I'm not one to talk."

Forbes struggled to catch up as he tried to put on one boot and hopped on one foot.

"Really, sir, i-it's not what you think!"

Gordon chuckled again.

"Sar'ent, with respect when an officer happens on one of his men in a girl's bed chambers and is sharing said bed, I'm pretty sure that officer knows exactly what to think."

The sergeant finished lacing his boot and stood up.

"Sir, what I meant was nothing happened, it was late when we...er I mean I got out of the baths, and I ended up just crashing at her quarters! Like I said, nothing happened..."

There was a soft cough and they both looked back to see Tabitha standing in the hallway in front of her room. It was an odd sight, the bespectacled blue-haired waif in a white linen nightie was standing there clutching an M4 assault rifle. She smiled as she held up Forbe's weapon and spoke in a soft voice.

"Forgot gun."

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, back at the Vallière Estate)<strong>

"Look Crosby-san! Lt. McPherson and Éléonore are back!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked from his coffee up at where Saito , and sure enough, saw the large winged lion approaching with its massive wings outstretched. He heard the Tokyo teen chuckle.

"Man, I hope the loot is okay, that looks dangerous!"

Crosby heard a huff, and saw Louise stand up from her seat.

"I still don't think it's fair that Éléonore gets to ride Frieda and I don't."

She looked over to her mother, who was still trying to to stare too hard at Crosby.

"Mother, may I be excused?"

Duchess Karin de La Vallière jolted out of her reverie and nodded curtly, Louise sighed and turned to Saito.

"Come, famili-er I mean Saito! I need help choosing a dress for the ball tonight!"

Saito stood up and followed Louise back into the mansion, while Crosby continued to stare as the manticore slowly descended. It landed lightly on the lawn beside the breakfast table, and Frieda splayed her wings with one final stretch, before folding them up. Karin slowly stood up and walked over towards where her manticore was. Her eldest daughter hopped off the large creature with very little trouble, but Lt. McPherson was a different matter; he was clutching onto the beast's mane for dear life, his eyes screwed shut. Crosby grinned at the lieutenant's consternation.

"I think you can open your eyes now, sir. You're on terra firma."

The lieutenant cautiously opened one eye.

"Yeah, but I'm not getting off this flying fleabag until I'm sure it ain't gonna eat me!"

The manticore turned its massive head and growled, baring several rows of razor-sharp teeth. McPherson broke out into a nervous sweat as his hand twitched towards the M9 on his thigh-rig. But the duchess reacted first by reaching out and swatting Frieda on the nose. Immediately the creature froze in mid-growl, and turned its head towards Karin, who spoke sternly to the massive creature as if it were an errant child.

"Bad Frieda! You know better than that! No eating the guests!"

The effect was magic, the manticore tucked its barbed tail between its legs and let out a stricken whimper. Karin smiled at the lieutenant.

"You can disembark, my familiar will not harm you."

McPherson slowly and gingerly climbed off the beast's back, and stood unsteadily on his feet. Crosby chuckled.

"You alright, sir?"

"I'll be fine, sergeant, as soon as the world stops spinning so fast."

Éléonore walked over and took McPherson's hand.

"I don't know how you do it, Mama!"

Karin smiled.

"Frieda is as willful as she is powerful, and she requires a firm hand. You have a long way to go before she be as obedient to you as she is to me."

She then signaled one of ornately dressed servants in attendance to approach.

"Take Frieda to her pen and see that she is fed and watered."

The footman bowed low.

"As you wish, Madam."

Karin then turned to Éléonore and the lieutenant.

"Go to the kitchen and have Anatole make you something, you both must be famished since you missed breakfast."

They go, and Crosby starts to follow.

"Sir Crosby, wait."

The Zulu Squad sergeant paused.

"Yes, ma'am?"

She smiled.

"Please, just Karin will do."

As Crosby approached, she let out a cough and blushed lighly.

"Sir Crosby, w-will you accompany me for a stroll in the garden?"

The soldier shrugged.

"Okay."

As he followed the duchess Crosby noticed familiar sights of the chateau. On of wing of the estate was where he and Lugo engaged the thief Fouquet, the destroyed wall was now repaired, but he could see the stone bricks were lighter in color and newer than the surrounding masonry.

"What are you thinking of, Sir Crosby?"

The soldier turned to the duchess.

"Just remembering the time we fought off the thief that stole your ring."

Karin nodded.

"Ah yes, and saved the lives of my daughters as well, especially that of my youngest, Louise."

As if on cue there was a shrill scream, followed by a loud explosion that shook the entire estate. Crosby chuckled.

"Speak of devil, I sure hope Saito wasn't the object of her wrath."

The duchess laughed lightly as well.

"Yes, and they've made such progress on their relationship I would be loath if my Louise blew him to smithereens with one of her Void spells."

Crosby smiled at the duchess.

"Y'know, there was a time when you objected strenuously to the union of your daughter and a commoner. I'm glad you've come around."

She lowered her eyes blushed.

"Well, as you said I gave Saito time to prove himself-"

Karin looked up, her amethyst-colored eyes shimmering at Crosby.

"-And I believe that he will be a good husband to my daughter."

The duchess took a moment to stare at Crosby. She took in the details of his black uniform, with the contrasting white and orange shoulder pads stenciled with the stylized skull that was his unit, the vertical streaks of white on his breastplate, with all the pouches and pockets that distinguished him as an Outworlder. She took in the soldier's rugged features, the light scar that ran from his high cheekbones to the bottom of his stubbled jaw, and his eyes. Eyes that could be cold as winter ice, or as warm as the sky on a sunny summer sky. Sgt. Crosby, for his part, seemed puzzled as to why the duchess was staring at him with shimmering eyes.

"Um, ma'am? Are you alright?"

She then boldly took his gloved hand.

"Sir Crosby, will you permit me this indulgence? What is your name, your given name, I mean."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged.

"It's Robert, ma'am."

The duchess smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Please, I have already given you leave to call me by my first name."

The soldier nodded, and she continued.

"Robert, have you...do you have anyone back in your world?"

Crosby chuckled humorlessly.

"You mean like the colonel? Nope, I really don't have any ties back at Earth."

The Duchess de La Vallière allowed herself a small smile. This was her opportunity, she thought to herself, where she would profess her love to him. She took a step forward, so enamored by Crosby's eyes that she failed to notice a protruding stone in the garden path. Her foot slipped on its slick surface, causing Karin to lose her footing, and fell backwards. Unfortunately she was still holding Crosby's hand so as she fell the duchess pulled the sergeant down with her. Noblewoman and soldier fell onto the lawn, still wet from the morning's dew, Karin landing unceremoniously on her rump and Crosby on top of her.

The hard mag pouches on the Zulu Squad sergeant's vest knocked some of the wind out of her, but Karin was distracted by how close his face was to hers. Her skin fluttered as she could feel his breath on her cheek and neck, and in that moment she cared for nothing else but to stare into his beautiful blue eyes. Crosby was the first to react, and quickly jumped up.

"Oh shit, are you alright? I could have crushed you there!"

He held out a hand, which Karin reluctantly took as her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"No, it is I who should beg forgiveness."

She straightened out her dress, and ran an hand through her hair. Her face turned as pink as her hair, and for moment she reminded Crosby very much of her youngest daughter, Louise. She quickly bowed low.

"P-please forgive my cravenness, Sir Crosby."

He grinned.

"It's no problem, Karin. This whole world's got weird physics and gravity to go with the equally weird moods. Sometimes I wonder if a higher power does these things for His own amusement."

He stopped as he saw that the duchess's eyes were shimmering again, and was mesmerized as she slowly approached him. Crosby felt like his boots were glued to the cobblestones, his feet and hands felt like lead as Karin raised her hands and took a side of his face, then she leaned forward. A small and rapidly shrinking part of Crosby thought that this was a bad thing and he should resist. But he didn't, instead he closed his eyes in anticipation of feeling the soft lips on his. And then his radio crackled to life with a hiss of static.

_"Iceman, this is HQ, `port in."_

That broke the spell, and Karin's eyes widened as she took a step back, her face still flushed. Crosby sighed and keyed his throat mic.

"HQ this is Iceman, go ahead."

Lt. Gordon's voice came through the static.

_"Iceman, this is Heavy Four, the colonel wants you back at HQ by 0900, all NCO's and officers are to be in attendance for the Article 32 hearing."_

The soldier nodded.

"Roger that, what about the specialist and Lt. McPherson?"

_"Negative, they're to remain at the estate. Colonel's orders."_

Crosby looked over to the chateau and nodded.

"Roger that. Tell the colonel that Iceman is inbound, ETA fifteen mikes."

He got a squawk through the static in response, and he switched off his radio. He looked over to the duchess, who had her hands folded in front of her and her head lowered. He saw the crestfallen look on Karin's face, it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am. Colonel's orders, I have to attend a hearing for one of our own, then I have to deliver our ultimatum to the Reconquista."

The duchess nodded, and this time a grave expression crossed her features.

"I had heard rumors of what happened at Dunkerque. What will you do? I had heard through my sources in the palace that the 33rd plan a daring counterattack."

She narrowed her eyes.

"They won't muster all the mages again, will they? They...they wouldn't put my daughter in harm's way?"

Crosby shook his head.

"No. But I can tell you that the mission only involves a handful of soldiers, all from the Damned 33rd. And when the mission is over the Reconquista will be utterly defeated."

Karin's eyes widened in shock.

"B-but how?"

"I'm sorry, that's classified information."

He turned to leave.

"Saito and Lt. McPherson are to remain here. I would appreciate it if you just tell them what I told you. Understood?"

The duchess nodded her head.

"It will be done."

Then her hand reached out to take Crosby's wrist. Her hand was slender, like her daughters, but there still was some strength in it.

"Wait, please."

He looked at the duchess as she spoke.

"Please Sir Cro...I mean Robert, I-I know you're a soldier, and you have a duty to dispatch, and I have no right to ask what I am about to ask, but still-"

She closed her eyes, then opened them suddenly, and her eyes were shimmering with tears.

"Please, please promise me that, after you duty is done, when Tristain is safe and her enemies are defeated, that you would consider my offer."

Crosby had a notion, but played ignorant.

"What are you offering, ma'am?"

This time Karin smiled.

"Myself. I don't need an answer now, but promise me you will consider it."

She looked back at the estate.

"You have been a good bodyguard to my Louise since you first arrived, and she looks up to you."

The duchess lowered her head and blushed.

"And I-I have had no one since my beloved Bayard passed away."

Crosby knew he should be feeling awkward, but at the same time, her offer appealed to him. Finally he put his gloved hand over hers.

"I promise I'll consider it, ma'am. Just...not now."

With that he turned and left. Karin stood still like a statue, her head still lowered. She didn't hear the high-pitched whine of the Outworlder's airship powering up, nor did she move when the wind was kicked up by the construct taking off. The head butler found her still standing long after the Black Hawk helicopter was but a speck on the horizon.

"Madam! Are you alright?!"

The butler was shocked as the duchess raised her head. She was smiling and tears of joy were streaming down her face.

"I am fine, François! He...he said he would consider it! This is lovely news!"

_(AN: Karin, you really are a teenager at heart, aren't you?_

_And there you have it, more light-hearted shipping and humor, before we delve into the darkness. I'm hoping to get the Article 32 chapter up soon, I'm setting a goal to have it and the next chapter up before Christmas, but we'll see. Until then!)_


	149. Article 32

_(AN: So, without further ado, here's the hearing!)_

* * *

><p>The T-15 Armata slowly rumbled slowly through the city of Tristainia, towards the palace. Most of the commoners in the marketplace didn't give it a second look, so accustomed to seeing the Outworlder's tracked siege engines that the majority of the city's inhabitants merely jumped out of the tank's way as it clattered past. Some of the slower ones were scared away by a blaring noise followed by a booming voice.<p>

"Move, or you will become _blintchiki_!"

The two commoners that jumped out of its path marveled that the Outworlders would have a sentient tank that spoke. The T-15 continued its trek through the city, and slowly made its way up the path to the palace, where the gates opened immediately. Once inside the Armata turned in its tracks and made its way towards the palace's grand stairs. Inside the cockpit Vasya slowly eased off the throttle, then he heard a chime and the sultry feminine Russian voice spoke up in his headset.

_"Warning: Unknown contact bearing Zero Three Zero...Initializing IFF...Confirmed American, Black Hawk-Class helicopter transport."_

Vasya paused and cycled through the external camera feeds. Sure enough, there was the Damned 33rd's Black Hawk chopper making a slow circuit around the palace. The chopper paused and hovered for a moment before slowly descending to the improvised helipad where the Mi-24 Hind was parked. The T-15 came to a halt at the foot of the stairs, and the Soviet officer saw that it was Sgt. Crosby who was the pilot. Interestingly enough neither the young Specialist nor the officer accompanied the sergeant as he made his way towards the stairs as well.

The captain shrugged, perhaps the other two were busy with their girlfriends, he thought as he undid his safety harness and pulled on his dress uniform jacket. After buttoning up the jacket he paused to make sure none of his medals were crooked, and then he took the peaked officer's cap that was on the gunner's seat. He pushed the button that opened the rear hatch and stepped out into the bright sunny morning.

Crosby saw the T-15 pull into the palace courtyard as he was on approach, so he was not surprised to see Captain Bylinkin emerge from the rear hatch of the IFV. He was shocked to see that the Soviet officer was not clad in his usual tattered tankers's coveralls, but in an impeccably tailored and pressed dress uniform. Vasya donned his officer's cap and turned to see the Yankee sergeant staring at him. He grinned.

"You see, even Soviet tanker can clean up nicely."

He walked up and shook Crosby's hand

"Although you should close mouth, Comrade Sergeant Crosby, otherwise you will catch flies."

The Zulu Squad sergeant recovered and looked over Vasya's dress uniform. The Soviet officer responded to the question Crosby was about to ask.

"In answer to your question, Lady _Utrennyaya Zvezda_ went shopping, and got me this uniform."

He glanced down at it.

"Surprisingly enough, it fits perfectly."

Vasya smiled as he saw the Yankee officer was fascinated by the number of medals on his chest. He decided to point them out.

"In case you were curious-"

He pointed to the large red star that was pinned on the right side of his chest.

"- This one is Order of the Red Star, received after taking heavy fire from cave rats and still saved platoon..."

He pointed to the silver eight pointed star above the first order.

"-This one is Order for Service to the Homeland in the Armed Forces of the USSR, 3rd class..."

He then pointed to each of the five shiny medals on the left side of his chest.

"This one is medal for Courage, and this one for Battle Merit..."

He then pointed to the next medal, a particularly ornate one on a multicolored ribbon.

"This one was for Strengthening of Brotherhood of Arms, basically for all the efforts I took in training up the sheep-herders and turning them into real soldiers..."

He pointed to the next medal.

"...this one is for Distinction in Military Service, 2nd class..."

Vasya pointed out a shiny brass disc on a white, yellow and red ribbon.

"This one is the jubilee medal for 60 years of the Armed Forces of the USSR, and was pretty much given to every officer who was in Soviet Army in February of 1978, sort of like your Veteran's Day."

Crosby saw the last medal that stuck out from the rest, it was a gold medal with Arabic script suspended on a scarlet ribbon.

"What's that one?"

The Russian grinned.

"That is unique, is medal awarded by Afghan President, Order of the Saur Revolution. Not too many Soviet officers got them. For me it was for my service to the Afghan National Army."

Crosby chuckled.

"Well, you should probably get a second one for training the students."

Vasya's cheerful expression withered, and a he frowned slightly.

"No, I do not think so, Comrade Sergeant. If I had trained them better, then nobody would have gotten hurt."

The Zulu Squad sergeant furrowed his brow.

"Lizzie and Katie, are they-"

Captain Bylinkin held up a hand.

"They have made full recovery, thanks to a lot of luck and a bit of magic...or perhaps is other way around."

He shrugged.

"Either way, both have made full recovery, but it was still stupid of me to think that I could train children in a day to become tankers. Never again."

Crosby didn't know what to say, but the Soviet officer's melancholia disappeared almost immediately and he looked up.

"So, Konrad says that I have to preside over a hearing, what is this Article 32 hearing I keep hearing you Yankees keep talking about?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged.

"It's a non-judicial hearing to determine if our private was wrong in executing the deserting Sharpshooter."

Vasya snorted derisively.

"_Blya_! If this were Soviet Army in Afghanistan, and Private shot deserter, they would not be having hearing, they would give him a medal!"

* * *

><p><strong>0900 hours, the 33rd Barracks<strong>

The ballroom that served as the 33rd's barracks was almost unrecognizable, all of the cots and other gear had been cleared away, as was the simple table where Konard worked and the large oversized map of Tristain. In its place were a pair of benches and tables, placed opposite each other about fifteen feet apart, at the head was a large ornate table that served as the judge's bench. Seated at the ornate table was Colonel Konrad, who was wearing his dress uniform. Beside him sat Captain Bylinkin, also in dress uniform, his stern face unreadable. At the back were several rows of benches where Forbes, Lugo and Crosby were seated, along with several Sharpshooters. Tabitha sat quietly next to SSG Forbes, her nose still buried in a book. Off to the side sat Siesta, Tiffania and several of the servants, curious how Outworlder judicial proceedings went. The only one missing was Princess Henrietta, and that was only because she had to meet with several Germanian and Romalian diplomats. There as a low din as a dozen voices were speaking in hushed tones. Finally Konrad checked his watch and rapped the desk with a gavel.

"Gentlemen, this Article 32 Hearing will come to order. Since this hearing also involves the Royal Sharpshooter Guards, I will preside over this hearing not as Lord General of the Royal Tristainian Armed Forces. Instead, I will be presiding over as Colonel John Konrad, commander of the Damned 33rd Battalion, United States Army. Assisting me in this capacity is Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin, of the Soviet Armed Forces."

He looked over to Gordon.

"This court recognizes the hearing officer, 1st Lieutenant James Gordon, of the United States Army. You are tasked as the hearing officer under Article 32 of the Uniformed Military Code of Justice."

He looked over to the defendant bench, occupied by Alex and Lt. Bowles.

"Let the record show that 1st Lieutenant Timothy Bowles is here present, acting as counsel for the accused."

He then looked over to the bench opposite the counsel bench, which was occupied by a large bearded man wearing an ornate breastplate.

"Acting as prosecution is the honorable Lord General du Poitiers."

The general had a scowl creasing his jowly face, but the noble still acknowledged Konrad by way of inclining his head. The colonel continued.

"The purpose of this Article 32 hearing is to gather facts and inquire against charges leveled against the accused, Private First Class Alexander Walker. The charges leveled against the accused are as follows, that he did willfully and deliberately initiate the summary execution of an unarmed Friendly soldier, one Royal Sharpshooter known as Sir Richilieu. I wish to exhort both the defense and the prosecution to exhibit proper form and protocol within these proceedings, or I will have you removed."

The colonel nodded to the hearing officer.

"Lt. Gordon, you may proceed with the hearing."

Gordon stood up from his chair and cleared his throat.

"Col. Konrad sir, Captain Bylinkin, thank you. As indicated in the colonel's opening statements the purpose of this hearing is to gather facts, for that purpose, I will have the counsel for the accused and the prosecution step forward and approach the bench."

Lt. Bowles approached.

"1st Lt. Bowles, do you swear to tell the whole truth to the best of your ability?"

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He looked over to the noble.

"General du Poitiers, do you swear, as Brimir's witness, to tell the whole truth to the best of your ability?"

The noble gave a curt nod.

"I will."

Gordon sat down.

"Then we will proceed with the testimony."

Bowles pulled out a scroll and unfurled it.

"As counsel I would first like to cite the accused's military service record prior to this event. The purpose of this is to demonstrate the accused as a soldier of high moral standards and professionalism, if I may proceed."

Konrad nodded.

"Proceed, but keep to the Cliff Notes version, Lieutenant."

"Private First Class Walker upon enlisting in the U.S. Army entered Basic Training at Fort Benning, over the course of his training he demonstrated a strong inclination towards the disciplined military structure. He also received commendations from his instructors for his high scores in Obstacle training, Marksmanship and Navigation."

The lieutenant glanced down at his scroll.

"The accused graduated from Basic in the top ten percentile of his class, and within one year of his first assignment advanced to the rank of Private First Class, again receiving commendations on his record from his CO. Shortly after that he requested and was granted a transfer to the 33rd Mobile Infantry Battalion, known colloquially as the Damned 33rd, in Kabul. Over the course of his tour with the 33rd in Afghanistan he acquired the Afghanistan Service Medal, Global War on Terror Service Medal, National Defense Service Medal, and the War on Terror Expeditionary Medal. After the 33rd...ended up in Dubai Private First Class Walker distinguished himself as a soldier who would regularly volunteer to help the refugees and the survivors of the sandstorms. Up until the circumstances that followed Operation Reclamation, Private First Class Walker continued to conduct himself as a fine soldier."

He paused and glanced over to the bench were the character witnesses were seated.

"At this time I would like to call Sergeant 1st Class Robert Crosby to the witness stand."

Bowles looked over to Lt. Gordon.

"Sir, if you recall, the accused served in Sgt. Crosby's squad in Afghanistan and later in Dubai."

The Zulu Squad sergeant slowly approached the bench.

"Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, to the best of your ability?"

The sergeant nodded.

"I do."

Lt. Bowles proceeded.

"Sergeant, the accused served in your squad, in Afghanistan and Dubai, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And in that time, how would you describe the accused, his attitude, disposition, etc."

Crosby glanced over to Private Walker, then back to the lieutenant.

"Quiet is how I would assess him, sir. He was someone who did his duty, not one to rock the boat, introspective. After the Water Coliseum incident-" He paused as he saw Lt. Gordon wince at the memories, "-I'm sorry, sir. After that Private Walker applied for a transfer as a gunner in Bravo Squadron. He was...completely changed by that point, sir."

Lt. Gordon took a step forward.

"How so, Sergeant? And please be as specific as possible."

"Well, sir, he became withdrawn, he had removed his name tape so nobody even knew what his name was, he just went by 'Joe the Sniper.' And he was acting like he had a death-wish, sir."

"You mean he was reckless?"

Crosby shook his head.

"No, sir. I mean he would always volunteer for any of the close air support missions, you know that Dubai was a dangerous place for a chopper, what with our Little Birds being in poor repair and the Insurgents having RPGs."

Konrad rapped his gavel.

"Sergeant, the situation in Dubai is well-known to all members of the 33rd, so please keep it to things relevant to the hearing."

"Sorry, sir. As I said, pretty much every gunner in Bravo Squadron had to be coerced into going on a chopper mission, but not the accused. He volunteered for every mission, it was like he had a death-wish."

Bowles continued.

"But after Bravo Six, that is to say, after he came to this world, he started to come out of his shell, is that a correct assessment, Sergeant?"

Crosby nodded again.

"Yes, sir that assessment is correct."

Lt. Bowles looked over to Konrad.

"No further questions, sir."

General du Poitiers stood up, and advanced over to Crosby, his jowly face hardened into a frown.

"Sir Crosby, you were made a Chevalier shortly after your...arrival in Tristain, is that correct?"

Crosby raised an eyebrow.

"It is."

"And what were the circumstances surrounding your elevation to such a noble status?"

The sergeant narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond the colonel spoke up.

"General du Poitiers, I assume there is a reason why you are dredging up this information?"

The general turned towards Konrad.

"I beg the court's indulgence, as this line of questioning will become relevant."

The colonel glanced over to Lt. Gordon, who shrugged, and then to Captain Bylinkin, who gave a curt nod. Konrad then looked back to the noble.

"Very well, you may proceed, but keep it brief."

The general gave a bow and turned to Crosby.

"I repeat, Sir Crosby, what were the circumstances surrounding your elevation to such a noble status?"

The sergeant spoke up.

"I, along with my charge Louise de La Vallière, were knighted Chevaliers by her Highness Princess Henrietta, in recognition of our service to the Crown."

The noble gave a friendly smile.

"Ah, yes that's right, you were instrumental in capturing the thief Fouquet and recovering the Staff of Destruction, were you not?"

Crosby nodded.

"That's the gist of it."

"Tell me, Sir Crosby, when you were confronted by Fouquet, she did not surrender willingly, did she?"

"No, she did not."

"The thief put up quite a fight, in fact. She had summoned one of her Earth Golems, if I remember."

"She did."

"And several of the persons on the expedition, students from the Tristain Academy of Magic, were in mortal peril from the thief and her Golem..."

The sergeant interrupted.

"Seems to me as if you know everything, General, so why ask me?"

There was a brief ripple of laughter from the Sharpshooters, but Konrad quashed it with his gavel.

"Order! General du Poitiers, the patience of this court is wearing thin, please get to the point."

The noble bowed again.

"Only a bit more patience, Colonel."

He turned back to Crosby.

"Your actions saved the lives of those students, otherwise Fouquet could have killed them."

Crosby shook his head.

"That is a matter of speculation."

The general cocked his head to one side.

"But was she not threatening Louise de La Vallière, if you did not hand over the Staff of Destruction, this-"

He looked over to Lt. Gordon.

"What is it you call it?"

"A grenade launcher, specifically an M32 MGL."

The general nodded.

"A gren-aid launcher, a weapon from your world, one that you, Sir Crosby, recognized right off the bat, correct?"

"Yes. It's true, I knew just by looking at it that it was no magical item. It was my first inkling that I wasn't the first to come to Helkeginia."

General du Poitiers continued.

"So, this Fouquet was threatening to kill Louise de La Vallière, if you did not hand over the weapon."

Crosby shrugged.

"She could have been bluffing, she told me as much."

The general gave a nasty smile.

"But then she tried to kill you with the gren-aid launcher, and would have succeeded if not for your cleverness."

A distant ember was stoked in Crosby's mind, and it was with great effort that he quashed it.

"It was irrelevant, I disarmed her and brought her and the Staf-I mean MGL back. That's how I got knighted."

The noble raised a finger.

"Aha! But there is one detail you failed to mention, after you disarmed her you had the weapon, the gren-aid launcher pointed at her. You could have killed her..."

Crosby frowned.

"No, I-"

"You had her dead to rights, and furthermore you would have been justified in killing her, wouldn't you have?"

The sergeant shook his head as unwanted memories from that fight and Dubai rushed back.

"N-no, that's not-"

But the general pressed forward, moving in for the kill.

"She was a nobody! A dishonored noble turned commoner turned thief! A vile, dangerous thief who endangered the lives of children, and threatened to kill you charge, finally she tried to kill you!"

Crosby couldn't respond, but as it turned out he didn't have to. He heard the loud pounding of the colonel's gavel on his desk.

"Order! General I will not have you badgering the witness!"

The noble gave a bow to Konrad.

"I apologize for the wording, Colonel Konrad. I was merely trying to establish that Sir Crosby, who is also part of your 33rd Battalion, faced similar circumstances to the accused, yet acted differently."

Bowles stood up.

"Objection! Sir, Crosby recovering the Staff of Destruction from Fouquet was him acting on his own, this was before the 33rd was re-instituted here in Helkeginia. The circumstances that brought us to this hearing is a military matter."

Konrad shook his head.

"Objection sustained. Lord General du Poitiers, it is true that 1st Sgt. Crosby had faced circumstances where he could have killed and spared a life instead. But that aspect of the sergeant's past is irrelevant to this hearing."

He turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Have the general's remarks struck from the record."

The colonel then turned to General du Poitiers.

"Any testimony or cross examination of the witnesses must be relevant to this Article 32 hearing. Now, do you have any more questions for Sergeant Crosby?"

The noble glared at Konrad, but finally shook his head.

"No further questions."

The colonel gestured to the Zulu Squad sergeant.

"Sergeant Crosby, that will be all."

Bowles stood up and turned to Konrad's bench.

"Sir, at this time the defense would like to call Sir Aramis to the stand."

One of the Sharpshooters who was acting as bailiff turned to the seated throng of Sharpshooters and barked out a command. One of them stood up, and Sir Aramis made his way to the bench. After being sworn in Lt. Bowles started his questioning.

"Sir Aramis, is it true that before the Battle of Brugues you were Knight-Commander Agnès de Milan's adjunct?"

The Sharpshooter nodded.

"That is correct, t'was my duty to report to her every morning with the duty roster."

Bowles continued.

"Did you, over the course of your duties, ever find the accused in contact with the Knight Commander?"

Sir Aramis nervously fingered the collar of his jacket.

"I-I don't quite know what you..."

The lieutenant held up a reassuring hand.

"Relax, Sir Aramis, I don't need any unnecessary details. I am merely trying to establish that the accused was in a relationship with the Knight-Commander, is that a fair statement?"

Sir Aramis flushed lightly, but nodded in assent.

"Yes, yes he was."

"And how would you classify his behavior around her, and vice versa?"

"They were both very happy, sir. The Knight-Commander, before she met him, and the rest of you, was...very withdrawn herself, always throwing herself into her duties with no personal time. After meeting with...the accused, she seemed happier."

Bowles gave a light smile.

"Alright, that's all I needed."

He turned to Konrad.

"No further questions, sir."

The general then stood up. The chevalier quailed under the imperious glare of the noble as he spoke.

"Sir Aramis, in your...observations of the accused and the Knight-Commander, would you say that they were in love?"

"Objection, prosecution is asking a subjective questions to the witness!"

Konrad nodded.

"Objection sustained. General, please keep your questions more objective."

The general gave an apologetic bow.

"My apologies, Colonel."

He turned back to Sir Aramis, who was visibly sweating.

"Would it be safe to say, even to the casual observer, that the accused and the Knight-Commander were close?"

The Sharpshooter nodded.

"Yes, sir."

The general glared at the Sharpshooter.

"Yes my _Lord_, you mean! I am not one of these informal Outworlders!"

"Y-yes, My Lord, they were close."

"Very good. So, the accused was attached to the Knight-Commander, then?"

"I-I couldn't say?"

The general gave Sir Aramis another withering glare.

"You couldn't say? On two occasions you interrupted them while they were fucking, and you couldn't say if they were close?!"

"Enough!"

Konrad slammed his gavel down, and he narrowed his hazel eyes at the noble while he spoke with calm fury.

"Lord General du Poitiers, I will not have foul language in this hearing!"

He glanced over to the assembled crowd.

"Notwithstanding the fact that there are ladies present!"

The general gave a deprecating smile.

"A slip of the tongue, Colonel, my old days in the army came through."

Konrad did not return the smile.

"Your 'slip of the tongue' as you call it, will cost you."

He turned to the Sharpshooter.

"Sir Aramis, there will be no more questions, you are free to go."

The general opened his mouth to protest.

"What? But Colonel, I have-"

Konrad interrupted him.

"You have stretched the patience of this court for long enough, and injecting your filthy language was the last straw."

He turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Hearing officer, let the record show that the Prosecution's testimony is finished."

Gordon suppressed a grin.

"Noted, sir. Lord General du Poitiers, from this moment onward the testimony for the prosecution has been concluded. You may still give objections, and give closing remarks at the conclusion of this hearing, but that is all."

The general turned purple with rage.

"HOW DARE YOU! How dare you talk down to me as if I were a mere servant! I am a noble, and part of her Majesty's Chief-"

Konrad slammed his gavel down.

"Be Silent! Out there you might be a noble and a general, but here in this court, you are a prosecution officer among peers. I will not have this hearing turned into a circus side-show or a witch-hunt! General du Poitiers, if you will not come to order I will hold you in contempt of this court and have you removed, do you understand?"

General du Poitiers fumed for a full minute, but finally nodded. Satisfied, Konrad leaned back in the bench.

"The defense may proceed."

Lt. Bowles stood up.

"Sir, I would like to call the Sharpshooters Hubert and Pierre to the stands."

Two more Sharpshooters approached the bench, and after being sworn in, Bowles continued in his cross-examination.

"Gentlemen, it is understood that you served for a while in the same unit as the deceased, Sir Richilieu, is that correct?"

Both the Sharpshooters glanced and each other, and nodded.

"Y-yes, that is correct, sir."

Bowles continued.

"And how would you assess the character of the deceased?"

Sir Hubert was about to speak up, but Bowles interrupted him.

"-And remember, gentlemen, you are under oath, here."

Sir Pierre spoke up first.

"T-to be honest sir, he was a good soldier, and a crack-shot, but none of the men liked him."

"And why is that?"

Pierre looked over to his friend and then spoke.

"W-well, he was a noble, sir. You see, before you and the 33rd came along and instituted the Draft, only men of noble birth could become Musketeers, as they were called before. After your intervention, the corps renamed itself the Royal Sharpshooters and accepted any man, regardless of birth, into its ranks."

He looked back at Hubert.

"Both of us were commoners, as we excelled in our marksmanship, but Sir Richilieu, he was very proud of his noble heritage, and very demeaning of us commoners."

Hubert piped up.

"He wasn't very brave, for a noble either, sir."

Bowles pounced on that statement.

"So, Sir Hubert, you would classify the deceased as a coward then?"

General du Poitiers stood up.

"Objection! This is besmirching the reputation of a dead man!"

Konard looked over to Bowles.

"Objections noted and sustained. Lt. Bowles I would ask that you rephrase that question so as to be less inflammatory."

"Yes, sir. Apologies, sir."

He turned back to Sir Hubert.

"In what way was the deceased not very brave, in your own words?"

"Well, sir, Sir Richileu, he was always looking for ways to stay out of harms way, said he was going on to do greater things and didn't want to catch an arrow or a musketball in the chest. He was very good at manipulating others into doing his dirty work, too. He said it was all part of the game, the Game of Swords, he called it."

Bowles nodded.

"You mentioned his behavior regarding his duties. Was the deceased ever formally reprimanded for dereliction, or the like?"

"Yes, sir. On two occasions the Knight-Commander wrote him up, so to speak. Once for trying to get someone else to be on guard duty, which was more dangerous, and second was outright lying by claiming he was sick so he wouldn't be mustered with the other troops that deployed to Brugues. After that he specifically requested to be transferred to Dunerkque, a cushy gig, he called it."

The lieutenant turned to Konrad's bench.

"Let the record then show that the deceased had a pattern of behavior for delinquency and shirking of his duties."

The general stood up again.

"Objection! Sir Konrad I must protest this blackening of a deceased soldier's name."

Konrad shook his head.

"Objection overruled. The defense's arguments is that the deceased committed desertion, and this new information seems to corroborate that."

He turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Hearing Officer, you will note the deceased's military record."

Lt. Bowles turned back to the two Sharpshooters.

"No more questions, you are dismissed."

He then turned to the bench.

"Sir, at this time I would like to point out the Tristainian Code of Justice in time of War."

He held up a scroll.

"This document, while vague in many of the different delinquencies and their respective punishment, is extremely explicit as to the crime of desertion."

Bowles paused for a moment, then turned to the prosecution.

"For my next witness, I call the prosecution to the stand."

General du Poitiers narrowed his eyes, and Konrad looked questioningly at the lieutenant.

"This is highly irregular, Lieutenant."

Bowles raised his hands.

"Sir, I promise to be brief, and I assure the court that it is relevant."

The colonel glanced over to Vasya, who shrugged.

"Very well, proceed but do not test the court's patience."

After the general was sworn in, the lieutenant spoke up.

"Sir, I have but one question for you, and it is a procedural one as I confess ignorance in Tristianian Judicial matters. What is the punishment for desertion?"

The noble spoke up immediately.

"That is easy; the accused is flogged forty lashes, and is then branded a coward."

He shot a look at Private Walker.

"But the deserter is allowed to live, albeit in dishonor and exile. A cruel mercy, they call it."

The lieutenant seemed satisfied.

"Very well, sir. I appreciate that."

As the general started to stand up, Bowles held up a hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I have one more question, sir."

General du Poitiers frowned.

"What is it?"

Bowles smiled.

"The punishment for desertion, does it differ if it occurs in time of war?"

The noble's frown turned to a full-on glare, but he remained silent. Finally Konrad rapped his gavel again.

"General du Poitiers! The defense asked you a question, will you answer it?"

The general snarled at Konrad.

"This smug whelp knows the answer as well as I do!"

Bowles shrugged.

"Then, if it pleases the court, would you tell me what, if different, is the punishment for desertion in time of war?"

The noble seethed, but finally spoke.

"Those who desert in time of war are summarily executed without trial. I-its done so our men don't lose heart in battle at seeing their comrade flee the night before a battle or the like."

The lieutenant suppressed a smile and turned to the bench.

"No further questions, sir."

Konrad nodded and turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Hearing Officer, I feel that we have gathered sufficient information to deliberate, would you concur?"

Gordon nodded.

"I concur, sir."

He turned to Vasya.

"Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin, do you concur that we have gathered sufficient information to deliberate?"

The Russian nodded soberly.

"I concur, Comrade Colonel."

The colonel then stood up.

"Gentlemen we will have a recess for one hour, during which Captain Bylinkin and myself will process the information we have received and deliberate. All parties report back at 1030 for the verdict. Dismissed!"

As the soldiers filed out, Konrad noticed that the general was still seated in his chair. As the colonel passed him, the noble spoke.

"Well-played, Lord General Konrad. Having the prosecution deliver the final blow by his own words."

He looked up, and Konrad was shocked to see not anger, but weariness in the general's face.

"I know why you wish to defend him, I am not blind to the loyalty and camaraderie that soldiers share in the army. But what you have there is not a soldier, but a rabid dog. One that, as soon as you let him off his chain will continue to bite. And you will allow it, since the ones he's biting are your enemies."

He stood up to leave.

"But remember this, Colonel John Konrad, one day that rabid dog may turn and bite you, and then you will have to put him down yourself."

General du Poitiers slowly walked away and paused at the doorframe.

"Until then all the blood he sheds will be on your hands, Konrad. I hope for your sake you know what you're doing."

The colonel had no response, but stood silently as the general left.

"So do I." Konrad whispered.

* * *

><p>Glossary<p>

_Blintchiki_: Russian version of crepes or pancakes.

_(AN: Well, this was probably the most difficult chapter to date that I have had to write, I can say with conviction that I would make a lousy lawyer, as all this legal-ese bored me to tears and contributed to my writer's block. But, the hearing is concluded, and we had some nice Law & Order style fireworks...now we can get on to the good stuff...and the lovely Monster's Ball where Willy Pete will make his debut! The next chapter will reveal the verdict of the hearing and then they will deliver the ultimatum to King Jozef, I'm going to knuckle under this weekend so I can have it ready to post before Thursday as a Christmas present to all my readers and the fans of this story...until then!)_


	150. Lord of War

_(AN: So, here's the next chapter; I apologize in advance if there are more grammatical errors and plot holes than usual, as I wanted to rush this out as an early Christmas present to the fans._

_Now we get to find out what the verdict is...which, honestly is pretty much already pre-determined, as the general indicated in the previous chapter. Fun fact, I originally was going to have General du Poitiers make some crude comment to Konrad about his seducing the princess or something equally Jerkass, but then at the last minute I changed it to his warning Konrad about how dangerous a soldier like Alex can be in his current mindset. I think it meshed better, in this story as is the case of SO:TL aside from the Big Bad there really aren't any truly evil people, just misguided people and I try to bring forth their perspective in such a case. Anways, on with the show!)_

"The general really raked you over the coals there, didn't he?"

Crosby looked up to see the Delta sniper grinning at him. The Zulu Squad sergeant had taken a breather from the hearing by lounging against a tree in the Rose Garden courtyard. Crosby shrugged.

"He was trying to make a point. Can't fault a guy for that."

He then noticed that Siesta had followed Lugo. The little maid approached Crosby, who smiled at her.

"Hey Siesta, long time no see."

Siesta gave a shy smile.

"I-its good to see you again Sir Crosby!"

She looked up at Lugo.

"So, is that a judicial hearing like what you would have back in your world?"

Lugo chuckled.

"Well, not quite, but it's close. Pretty chaotic, eh?"

Siesta shook her head emphatically.

"Oh no! Here there's just a noble who hears the charges and pronounces a sentence. Your hearing is so much more fascinating, you actually give the accused a chance to defend himself."

She beamed at the sergeant.

"That's much better, I think!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a third voice.

"Well, aren't you glad the defense threw you a lifeline?"

Both Crosby and Lugo looked over and saw Lt. Bowles walking up. The sniper grinned at the lieutenant.

"Hey there, El-tee! You're quite the lawyer, you ever think of switching professions?"

Bowles chuckled and shook his head.

"That's a negative, I think I'd rather stay a soldier. Running the risk of being accused a war criminal is still better than risking being accused of a lawyer."

Lugo's face lit up.

"Say, I just thought of a good joke, given the circumstances..."

He cleared his throat.

"So, what's the difference between a lawyer and a trampoline?"

The soldiers shook their heads, and Lugo continued.

"You take off your shoes before you jump on a trampoline!"

Crosby rolled his eyes at the lame joke, but then a new voice spoke up.

"Sarge, colonel's reached a verdict, we need to get back in."

He looked up and saw SSG Forbes standing by the palace entry. The Delta sniper continued cracking wise.

"...What do you call 25 lawyers buried up to their chins in cement? Not enough cement!"

Forbes groaned and gave a gloved thumbs down.

"Jeez Delta boy, your jokes are as lame as that non-standard cover on your coconut!"

Lugo looked back and grinned.

"Hey Grunt! You failed a spot check."

Forbes frowned.

"Whadya mean I failed a-"

But that's all the sergeant could get out before a feminine voice called out.

"Ah! There you are, Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes!"

And then Forbes was subsequently tackled by Illococoo. While the sergeant didn't fall the blue-haired human form of Sylphid was still hugging him tightly. As he tried in vain to disengage himself from the dragon-girl's grip Lugo grinned at his predicament.

"Hey, Grunt, you got something Blue on your uniform!"

He helped Crosby up from his reclining position.

"You should get that sorted out before we go back inside dontcha think?"

Forbes shook his head and flipped off Lugo.

"Sit on it and rotate, Delta boy!"

* * *

><p>The barracks was once again packed, and the low din of voicing talking over one another. Colonel John Konrad checked his watch, and rapped the gavel for order. He then spoke up.<p>

"Before we submit our verdict, the defense and the prosecution may give their closing remarks."

Konrad looked over to Lt. Bowles.

"Defense, you may proceed."

Bowles stood up.

"Colonel Konrad, Captain Bylinkin, fellow soldiers. I would like to thank you for your indulgence, and to not lose sight of one thing."

He gestured to Alex.

"Private Walker's loss is our loss, for we all had comrades in the soldiers who were stationed at Dunkerque, and were lost. His shooting of Sir Richilieu should be seen in that light, and with the understanding that this was not some petty act of vengeance, but an execution of a deserter in time of war."

He gave the colonel a nod.

"That's all I have, sir."

Konrad nodded and looked over to General du Poitiers.

"The prosecution may now give their closing remarks."

The general shook his head, to Konrad's and Bowles's surprise.

"I-the prosecution have nothing to say at this time. I have said my peace and will respect the verdict."

The colonel recovered quickly and turned to Lt. Gordon.

"In that case I would like to call the hearing officer over to the bench. The judges presiding over this Article 32 hearing have reached a verdict."

He produced a scroll and handed it off to the lieutenant.

"Will you read the verdict, Lieutenant?"

Gordon nodded and took the scroll. He cleared his throat and spoke in a loud voice.

"After hearing testimony from both the defense and the prosecution, and after careful deliberation I, Colonel John Konrad assisted by Captain Bylinkin have reached the following verdict: On the charges of Killing a Friendly, we find the defendant Private First Class Alexander Walker..."

The officer paused for a moment before uttering the final words.

"...Not Guilty."

There was a buzz in the barracks and even a few whoops of joy, but Konrad slammed his gavel down again.

"Order! Order in the court!"

He turned to Lt. Gordon.

"Proceed."

The lieutenant continued.

"...However with the evidence brought to light PFC Walker will be taken off Active Duty for evaluation of possible severe mental trauma from the resulting fall of Dunkerque."

Konrad nodded over to the counsel.

"Any objections or comments?"

Bowles was beaming ear to ear and shook his head. The general didn't respond but continued to have a downcast expression.

"In which case, this Article 32 hearing is concluded. Dismissed!"

With that he gave a final rap of the gavel. The soldiers then dispersed, but Konrad called out to one of them.

"Sgt. Crosby! A word, sergeant."

The Zulu Squad sergeant paused at the door.

"Sir?"

Konrad approached, with Vasya in tow.

"Sergeant I am having Captain Bylinkin deliver the Damned 33rd's ultimatum to the Reconquista."

He pointed to the large map that was off to the side.

"Our scouts indicate there is a massive Reconquista camp outside of Dunkerque, and King Jozef will be there to receive an emissary from Princess Henrietta, to accept her surrender."

His hazel eyes hardened.

"In that, he will be disappointed in our response. I want you to accompany Captain Bylinkin to help deliver our ultimatum."

The colonel glanced back at Lt. Bowles.

"The lieutenant volunteered to fly you guys in Big Ugly One, we'll of course be flying the flag of truce, but in case there's any trigger happy people the Hind should deter them. Questions?"

"Excuse me, sir."

Konrad, Crosby and the Russian all turned and saw Alex standing there. He was standing at attention, his back ramrod straight.

"Colonel Konrad, sir, I request permission to accompany the Captain and Sgt. Crosby on this mission."

The colonel shook his head.

"Negative, private, I'm sorry. You're off active duty pending an eval. It's for your own good, Alex."

Alex lowered his head for a moment, and when he looked back up his eyes were bright with tears.

"P-please, I understand I'm not combat ready, but I need this, sir. I-I think it would help...with closure I mean."

Konrad thought for a long time.

"Crosby, your thoughts?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"I concur with your original statement. Sorry Alex, but I think it would do more harm than good."

Alex took a step forward.

"Sir, if I give up my weapons and accompany the captain and the sarge unarmed, would you let me go?"

Vasya snorted.

"_Blya_! If you're unarmed your a load, or worse, a target!"

For a long time the colonel said nothing, but finally he sighed.

"Alright, Private, you can accompany Sgt. Crosby and Captain Bylinkin. You will surrender your weapons before disembarking, and you will follow orders to the letter. If anything...happens, say something along the lines of what transpired in Brugues, then let's just say there will be no more Article 32 hearings after that. Do I make myself clear, Private?"

The young soldier saluted.

"Crystal, sir!"

Konrad nodded.

"Then get ready and report to Bravo Zero in thirty mikes. Dismissed!"

After the private left, Konrad turned to Crosby.

"If the private tries anything, or even thinks of trying anything, I am relying on you. Can I count on you?"

Crosby nodded grimly.

"I won't let the kid try anything, and if it comes to it I'll be the one pulling the trigger, sir."

Satisfied, the colonel turned to leave.

"Good. Last thing we need is another international incident. It's a thirty minute journey as the crow flies to the enemy camp, and I want you there by noon. Dismissed!"

* * *

><p><strong>(1 hour later, in airspace over Reconquista-occupied Tristain)<strong>

_"Holy fuck."_

Crosby started as he heard Lt. Bowles' voice in his headset. He was in the crew compartment of the Hind, seated opposite him was Vasya with Alex sitting next to him. At the crew gunner's positions were two very nervous Sharpshooters. Crosby keyed the mic on his headset.

"What's the prob, Bowles?"

_"Ah, Crosby, you and Captain Bylinkin gotta see this."_

Crosby craned his neck to look into the window behind him, and shook his head at what he saw.

"Oh crap."

Vasya must have heard Crosby with his own headset, and he looked at the sergeant quizzically, but Crosby motioned him to the starboard window behind them. The chopper banked to the right, and gave them a better view.

There spread over the flat plain were thousands of enemy tents, with hundreds of banners sporting the Reconquista and Gallian colors. Crosby could make out heavily armed troopers with breastplates and brandishing the bolt-action rifles like at the Battle for Brugues.

"There must be thousands of enemy troops down there."

_"Tens of thousands, Comrade Sergeant. I would say not less than thirty but no more than fifty thousand."_

Crosby looked over to Vasya, who shrugged.

_"When I graduated from Tank school we marched in a division in the Victory Day parade in Moscow. I remember seeing all the soldiers assembling for the parade, there was twenty thousand of us in all, and seeing it from the air made one very humble."_

He glanced back down at the camp.

_"That mob looks larger than our division."_

The Zulu Squad sergeant took another look. On the edge of the camp were hundreds of the steam-powered Mark I Reconquista tanks, some stationary, others were maneuvering, sending up clouds of smoke and dust. Crosby's heart sank when he saw Dunkerque. The fortress city of Dunkerque stood in the distance and was still intact, but there was a large breach in the castle wall. Fires still burned within the city, and the sergeant saw no less than five of the larger K-Wagen tanks guarding the city gates. He heard Bowles's voice through the static of his headset.

_"Sonnovabitch, no kill like overkill. It must have been a massacre."_

The sergeant took another look and responded.

"All's the more reason for us to deliver this ultimatum. If you had any doubts before..."

Bowles spoke back up.

_"On another note I've found a suitable LZ with a welcoming committee. ETA five mikes."_

"Roger that."

* * *

><p><strong>(Five minutes later)<strong>

The detachment of Gallian mercenaries and Reconquista Fusiliers that were tasked with 'escorting' the Tristainian emissaries were struggling to keep their composure, especially their leader Sir John, Duke of Essex. He had expected a royal carriage or at most a couple of dragon riders. The thumping droning noise heralded the approach of the equally feared and hated Outworlders, and their dreaded armored airship that many dubbed 'The Wyvern.' The mottled brown and green construct circled the camp before slowly descending. The duke saw that it was bristling with guns and fearsome-looking weapons, he had seen the damage wrecked upon the land-based wooden dreadnought firsthand. Even thought they had the upper hand of superior numbers and a newly conquered fortress the Reconquista still feared the Outworlders.

Crosby and the others felt a _Thump!_ as the Hind's landing gear touched the soft, spongy earth. Crosby keyed the mic on his headset.

"Alright Bowles, we're disembarking. Dust off and maintain radio contact on channel twelve, I'm keeping my radio live during the proceedings. If things get hairy you know what to do."

He heard Bowles' squawk as an acknowledgement, and removed his headset. Vasya followed suit, but one of the Sharpshooters put a hand on Crosby's arm and shouted over the din of the helicopter's engine and spinning blades.

"Are you sure you don't want backup?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Negative, stay in the chopper and follow Lt. Bowles' orders, understood?"

The Sharpshooter gave a salute and went back to manning his PKM. Crosby looked back and saw Vasya standing up, donning his officer's cap.

"Come on, Comrade Sergeant, let's get this over with."

Crosby opened the hatch and all three soldiers exited; first Sgt. Crosby, who took up a defensive position with his P90, followed by Alex, who took a kneeling position next to Crosby, and finally Captain Bylinkin. When the Soviet officer's boots made contact with the turf, the hatch behind him closed up and the Hind lifted off. The Zulu Squad sergeant looked ahead and saw a group of about eight Reconquista soldiers led by a noble approach. Vasya cocked a round into the AKMS he 'borrowed' from the 33rd's armory and muttered under his breath.

"Filthy aristocrats."

The leader approached Crosby and gave a bow.

"Greetings, Outworlder, I am Sir John of Essex, commander of the Albionian Republic's 3rd Regiment of Foot."

Crosby gave a salute.

"Sergeant Crosby, Damned 33rd."

He gestured to Vasya.

"Captain Bylinkin will be delivering Tristain's terms to your leader. If you will show us the way?"

The noble nodded, and motioned for his men to make way.

"This way, Sir Crosby."

* * *

><p><strong>(Five minutes later)<strong>

The Zulu Squad sergeant fought to keep his composure as Sir John led the trio of soldiers deep into the Reconquista's encampment. Everywhere Crosby looked he saw Fulsiliers, all glaring at him and his companions, and it was all he could do to fight the urge to raise his weapon and shoot them on sight. He glanced over. Vasya marched ahead as in on parade, his Slavic features betraying nothing but a sneer of contempt. Alex walked beside Crosby with an expression devoid of emotion. Finally Sir John stopped at a large ornate tent, and pulled the flap aside.

"You may enter, Sir Crosby."

Inside the tent was lavishly furnished with ornate rugs and banners. To one side was a large table with several pieces representing military units. In the center of the tent was a carved wooden throne-like chair edged in silver and filigreed in gold. Seated on the chair was King Jozef, to his right was a tall woman with violet eyes. The woman Crosby recognized as Sheffield, she must have assumed leadership of the Reconquista after Oliver Cromwell's death. Sheffield gave a mocking smile to the sergeant, while the monarch whom Crosby remembered last seeing at Tabitha's estate in Gallia, gave a nasty glare. Apparently he recognized the 33rd soldier as well.

"What are you doing here? I was expecting emissaries from Princess Henrietta's court, not you Outworlders!"

Crosby took a step forward.

"As her Majesty's Princess Henrietta's elite fighting force, the Damned 33rd are her emissaries in time of war."

King Jozef gave a dismissive snort.

"Ah, yes, because your leader, this John Konrad, has swept the princess off her feet. What game does your commander play, to manipulate a teenaged girl and play politics in this world? Does this John Konrad fancy himself as some sort of lord of war?"

The sergeant shook his head.

"The word your looking for is warlord, and no, that's not the case. Colonel Konrad is merely looking out for Tristain's best interest."

Jozef smiled.

"I think my definition fits better."

Vasya cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Enough of these pleasantries. Jozef, you who calls yourself monarch of Gallia, are you the one who leads this army that currently violates Tristain's sovereignty?"

The king nodded, and Vasya continued.

"I am Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin, and I have been tasked to present terms of your surrender."

That genuinely shocked Jozef, he and Sheffield exchanged incredulous looks.

"Surely you are mistaken. You mean Tristian's terms of surrender, do you not, Captain Bylinkin?"

The Soviet officer shook his head.

"No, is you who are mistaken. We are not here to discuss terms of Tristain's surrender, we are here to discuss the terms of your surrender, the outcome of which will determine the survival or demise of you and the Reconquista."

"What do you mean?"

Vasya shrugged.

"Is easy, we are giving you a choice: to leave and live, or stay and die."

Some of the guards started snickering as if Vasya had told a joke, but Jozef silenced them with a glare, then directed his fury at the Russian.

"Silence! What sort of farce is this? Does Princess Henrietta not understand her precarious position? Do you not understand that currently an army of over forty thousand Reconquista-alligned Gallian soldiers sit on Tristain's threshold?"

Vasya smiled thinly.

"Is no joke. And we are well aware of your war crimes, Jozef. It is you, I fear, who are not aware of the precarious position you are in."

He looked over to Sheffield.

"Your Reconquista is doomed, lady, it's time is at an end."

The Russian looked back at King Jozef.

"But for you, there is still a bit of hope. You can choose your survival, and the survival of your armies and Gallia, or you can choose to side with the Reconquista and be destroyed with them."

King Jozef's smug expression faltered at officer's display of anger, and his adjunct stepped forward.

"Show some respect, you-"

The man's angry diatribe was cut short by the Captain's fist connecting with side of the man's face, sending him to the ground. Vasiliy glared at the prostrate man.

"Don't interrupt me, you fucking highborn sack of pigshit! _Blya_! I do not give one flying fuck about you or your stupid group of nobles. The concept of a corrupt nobility standing on the backs of peasants revolts me. If I were in command, I would have dealt with you the way our comrades dealt the corrupt aristocrats in the Glorious Revolution."

He regained his composure.

"But fortunately for you, I am not in command. I am merely here to deliver Konrad's terms. If you wish to survive, your armies will withdraw from Dunkerque, withdraw from Tristain's borders, and you and Sheffield will surrender into the custody of the 33rd to face charges of war crimes. In exchange for this your men will be spared, and you both will receive a fair trial."

Jozef raised his bearded chin in defiance.

"And if we do not?"

This time the third Outworlder stepped forward. He was young, King Jozef was shocked at how young the soldier was, still in his teens by the look of it. But what shocked the king the most was the look of utter hatred that twisted the boy's features. His cold blue eyes burned into the king, and if looks could kill Jozef felt certain he would have died a hundred painful deaths. The boy-soldier spoke in a cold, rasping voice.

"Then you and your men will share the same fate."

Sheffield spoke up, hiding her own fear behind an air of insolence.

"What do you mean by that, young whelp?"

The young soldier directed his burning glare at her, turning her blood to ice.

"It means swift and total annihilation. It means we will use our superior firepower to kill every last one of your men, and then we will come for you. You are responsible for all the deaths in Dunkerque. For killing my friend, and maiming another, I could forgive on the grounds of rules of engagement. But you killed the girl l loved for no other reason than out of spite, and for that we will give no quarter."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Crosby looking and him. The sergeant gave a faint shake of his head, and Alex relented, stepping back. Vasya continued.

"Let me tell you a little story of failure, Your Highness. Back in our world there was a madman, drunk on his own power. A man with an unassuming name like you, except he was named Adolf instead of Jozef. Just like you and your Reconquista friends, he was a bully who tried to step on weaker nations, to conquer the world. He succeeded in conquering almost all of Europe, by mustering a powerful army and using underhanded techniques..."

Jozef smirked.

"And why are you telling me all of this?"

Vasya smiled nastily.

"Because this madman was stopped. You see, he made the mistake, as you did, by awaking the Russian Bear. and with the combined strength of the Eagle and the Bear they squashed this warmongering _pizdyuk_ like a fly."

He turned to leave.

"Heed this warning: abandon your invasion plans and tell your army to lay down their arms, and retreat back into your borders. Because if you don't-"

He gave a wolfish smile that sent an uneasy feeling down the king's spine.

"-if you don't then you will suffer the same fate as your men, and it will not be pleasant."

Vasya looked over and nodded to Crosby, who keyed the squawk button on his throat mike.

"Big Ugly, we're ready to go, come down and get us."

There was a hiss of static, followed by Bowles' voice.

_"Roger that, Big Ugly is inbound, ETA five mikes."_

He turned back to face the Gallian monarch one last time.

"You have until midnight tonight to decide, after that, the 33rd will decide it for you."

Crosby then left the tent, and found Sir John waiting there surprised.

"That was quick! Were the negotiations to both Tristain's and Gallia's satisfaction?"

The sergeant looked back at the Russian and the young sniper who followed him.

"I'm afraid not, Sir John."

The Zulu Squad sergeant gave the noble an appraising look as they marched back the way they came.

"You seem like a decent sort, like someone I knew earlier, before all this went to shit."

Sir John gave a smile and a bow.

"You are quite kind, and if I may say you certainly don't seem to be the bloodthirsty monsters the Reconquista paints you to be."

As they approached the LZ Crosby saw the Mi-24 Hind hovering in a holding pattern. When they got closer the gunship extended its landing gear and slowly descended. Crosby signaled Alex and Vasya to approach, then turned to face Sir John on last time.

"Sir John of Essex, it is because I think you're a decent man that I am telling you this. Leave Tristain, go back to Albion. You do not want to be in Dunkerque when time runs out for King Jozef."

With that Sgt. Crosby left, leaving the noble puzzled, but with a feeling of unnameable dread.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Well, there you have it, the Damned 33rd have given their Ultimatum, and chances are King Jozef and Sheffield, being as Genre Blind as Captain Walker was, will call the 33rd's bluff, with Reality Ensuing in the form of Willy Pete.<em>

_*GET ON WITH IT!*_

_Ahem, yes so hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, because of the holiday I don't foresee me having time to post another chapter until next week at the earliest. There will probably be one more interlude chapter with McPherson and Saito, but the good news is that we'll be starting the New Year with a Bang..._

_*cue evil laughter*_

_So, I wish all my fans a Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noël, Frohe Weihnachten, Vrolijk Kerstfeest, Buon Natale, C рождеством, etc. Until next week!_


	151. Love in Time of War, Part Trois

_(AN: Contrary to popular opinion, catching a cold on a flight is not bad luck, it's a statistic. If you fly in a hermetically sealed aluminum cylinder with 100 other people of varying ages and immune systems, chances are they're bringing something else besides their brats and bags on that flight. But, when you have logged at least 10K miles flying for work, spending a total of 28 hours in the air not counting time differences and jet lag and never get sick, only to go on vacation and fly a 30 minute flight on a puddle jumper and subsequently catch a nasty flu that puts you bedridden for three days while everyone else is enjoying the beach, **is** bad luck. That's my only excuse for not getting this out sooner. _

_It's almost 5 local time here in Key West, the sun was shining today with 28 C (about 80 degrees F for the Americans), and I'm sitting on the balcony of the family condo wearing a hoodie. It's enough to rage against the heavens...but then again, since I've put my characters through all sorts of shenanigans for my own amusement, maybe it's karma catching up to me, and maybe I've caught the attention of the Grand Architect of the Universe who has decided to amuse Himself by messing with me..._

_Or maybe I shouldn't be mixing IPA's, Mai Tai's and medication..._

_In any case, here's the next chapter, and once again I apologize for any majo grammatical errors, plot holes, misspellings, etc...)_

**(0830 hours local time, Vallière Estate)**

Saito looked back and saw the figures of the Duchess de La Vallière and Sgt. Crosby retreating into the garden. The Tokyo teen chuckled to himself, Crosby-san really didn't know what he was in for. Or maybe he did, and was just stalling for time. Saito's thoughts were interrupted as he pushed the doors to the estate open, Louise was standing there holding a bundle wrapped in brown paper. Louise looked at him for a long time, before Saito finally responded.

"What's that?"

She let out a light cough, cleared her throat and held out the package.

"It's a gift! I-I meant to give it earlier but we got in late!"

Saito cautiously took the bundle, holding it carefully in his hands as if it were ticking.

"This isn't another pair of enchanted pimp glasses, are they?"

The pinkette blushed, shaking her head vehemently.

"Wh-what? No! No, it's nothing like that! I-I, I mean..."

Louise lowered her head.

"Y-you see, here in Tristain, we celebrate Founder's Day, it's a time of celebration and gift-giving."

She pointed to the package.

"I had meant to give that to you before you left for Brugues, but...but it wasn't finished yet."

Curious, Saito started to unwrap the bundle.

"So, what is it?"

Louise was still fixing her gaze on the highly ornate rug on the marble tiled floor of the entrance way, but she gave a small smile.

"Just something that I hope you like..."

She looked up suddenly, and flushed pink as she scowled at him.

"I-I mean you better like it! I worked very hard on it!"

Saito finished unwrapping the bundle, and unfolded a sweater that would have been very expensive back on Earth. It was hand-knitted and made of some soft material like angora, and was also a riotous clash of hot pink and lapis lazuli blue. The colors aside, Saito was marveled at the workmanship.

"This...this is amazing, how did you do this?"

Louise blushed, although more lightly than before and beamed broadly.

"Oh, I have a knack for knitting, I've knitted scarves before, but this sweater was a challenge."

She glanced over at the clashing colors.

"I-I originally wanted to make it blue, like the color of your eyes...but I ran out of material and time..."

The pinkette shrugged.

"All I had left was pink yarn, so I finished it up, and you like...you **do** like it, so that's all that matters, right?!"

Saito smiled and started unbuttoning his ACU blouse.

"Yep! As a matter of fact, I'm going to try it on, these nights have been getting chilly for just my fatigues or even my windbreaker!"

Louise watched expectantly as the teen pulled on the sweater, and let out a squeal of glee as it turned out to be a perfect fit. She pulled Saito into a tight hug, and for a while he just held her close and took in the scent of her strawberry-colored hair. She looked up at him, and her large eyes were shimmering.

"Oh Saito!"

He reached out with a hand and caressed her cheek.

"Louise..."

The two moved in slowly, and Saito felt soft lips touch his, and something airy and sweet like spun sugar in his mouth. He opened his eyes and was about to say something when a door crashed open. Both Louise and Saito jumped at the noise, and guiltily separated. As it turned out, it was a false alarm.

* * *

><p>Lt. McPherson chuckled at the door as it swung open creaking like a dungeon door.<p>

"Jeez, Ellie you really gotta have the servants lube up these doors! Damn near needed a breaching round to open that last door!"

Éléonore de La Vallière smiled at the soldier and the toothpick he was chewing on.

"Oh, John! You know I adore you, and I love it when you act like one of the coarse rank-and-file soldiers..."

She then delicately but deftly removed the toothpick from McPherson's mouth.

"...But I hope you'll have better manners at the ball, you will be here for that, right John?!"

Lt. McPherson grinned at her.

"Well, I've got some leave coming to me, so yeah I think so. Been a while since we've had a clash of cultures between the nobles and the hoi polloi..."

That caused her to giggle like a schoolgirl.

"John, you're so incorrigible! I should pinch you for talking in that ribald soldier's vernacular."

The lieutenant flashed a mischievous grin at the eldest Vallière girl as he stood up to his full height, towering over Éléonore.

"You forget one thing, sweetie! I'm not you little sis, and if you pinch me I'll pinch you right back!"

Éléonore giggled again, and was about to deliver a clever retort, when she heard someone clearing her throat, and looked up to see Louise and Saito standing there. Her little sister was looking disapprovingly at her.

"Hmph! You two make a fine example, my older sister and a ranking officer, acting like commoners!"

Éléonore's smile vanished with her light humor, as she folded her arms.

"Show some respect, Chibi-Louise! Honestly just because you have trouble expressing your feelings-"

But she was interrupted by Lt. McPheron's low whistle and snicker.

"Jeezus Haitch Kerrist! Specialist, you're out of uniform, and where the hell did you get that ugly Christmas Sweater?"

Saito looked down guiltily.

"I-I, er sir I mean this was a gift, I was just trying it on!"

McPherson chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Specialist you remove that crocheted abortion from your body this instant, before I have you written up for being out of uniform and in Bad Taste, the colonel's gonna NJP you for that for sure!"

Then the teen realized that McPherson was just ribbing him, so he laughed along.

"El-Tee you almost had me there for a moment!"

Unfortunately, he didn't see how Louise was taking it. The pinkette was turning a dark crimson, as her left eye started twitching in tranquil fury.

"Y-y-you...uncouth...soldier! How dare you..."

Lt. McPherson realized his mistake, although it was too late; he saw Louise raise her wand.

"...how dare you INSULT MY KNITTING!"

McPherson sprang into action, he grabbed a handful of the sweater on Saito's front and pulled himself and the teen bodily behind a large chaise lounge, hollering in his best battlefield voice.

"Eye-EE-Dee!"

**KA-BOOOOM!**

Saito still felt ringing in his ears, and briefly had a nasty flashback to the Battle for Brugues atop the K-Wagen. He had just shot one of the crew members, the enemy soldier was slumped down staring at him with lifeless eyes. Then in the distance, he heard SSG Forbes shouting at him.

"Specialist? Specialist! Snap out of it!"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and this time it was Lt. McPherson's voice he heard.

"Saito?! Are you okay?"

The teen opened his eyes to see McPherson looking at him worriedly. Saito gave a small thumbs-up.

"I'm squared, sir!"

McPherson nodded and hauled the kid to his feet. They both looked at the smoldering remains of the hump-backed mohair couch that had served as their cover. A plaintive whining caught Saito's attention, and looked over to see Éléonore furiously pinching the pinkette's cheek.

"Shame on you, Chibi Louise! You should control your temper! Why, you could have blown my beloved John to smithereens with your destructive spell!"

She glanced over to Saito, and looked embarrassed.

"Er, and yes, you could have blown up your boyfriend as well!"

A stern female voice spoke up through the haze and smoke.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Éléonore let go of Louise and straightened her glasses. A tall regal figure stepped through the smoke, revealing the Duchess de La Vallière. Their mother looked over to the charred furniture and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Louise, that settee was given to me as a gift by Queen Marianne!"

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.

"You really need to control your temper!"

Louise tried to speak up, but was silenced by a mere glare.

"I don't want to hear excuses, Louise! Now go to your room!"

Éléonore looked smug, and started to speak, only to be cut off by Karin.

"...Both of you! By Brimir's Brown Beard I have no idea what to do with you two...You are heirs to the Vallière duchy, on the cusp of womanhood, and both still squabble like children!"

The two Vallière girls slowly and forlornly climbed the staircase under the stern gaze of their mother. When they had gone the duchess turned to face Saito and McPherson, who had both straightened up to be at attention. Karin sighed again, and lowered her shoulders.

"I swear, those two girls will be the death of me..."

She looked up.

"Are either of you injured?"

The lieutenant and teen glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"No, ma'am, we're fine."

Karin took a few steps forward, and wiped a smudge off of Saito's face.

"As her boyfriend you need to be more assertive with my little Louise, Saito. In many ways she more willful than any manticore, and if you allow her she will walk all over you!"

Saito didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded and turned to go. Lt. McPherson felt awkward, and started to leave as well.

"Lieutenant McPherson, wait."

He paused, and saw that the Duchess was looking right at him.

"I am here to relay some information to you from Sir Rober- I mean Sergeant Crosby."

McPherson raised an eyebrow.

"What happened?"

The duchess continued.

"Sgt. Crosby was called back to Headquarters, he said something about a hearing, and some other business that your fellow Outworlders had to take care of."

McPherson's thoughts went back to the post-Brugues debriefing, when Col. Konrad revealed his intention to use the AC-130 gunship's destructive WP ordnance against the Reconquista, then nodded.

"Roger that, did the sarge say when he was coming back?"

A wistful look came across Karin's face, and for a moment the lieutenant thought he saw the duchess smile.

"He will be back, one day..."

Then, her smile disappeared as quickly as it came, and Karin regained her composure.

"That is to say, the sergeant indicated to me that the business should be concluded within a few days. Until then, consider yourself and Saito as my guests at the Vallière Estate!"

McPherson shrugged.

"Sounds good to me. Like I told Elle, I've got some leave coming to me, so I'm game."

He looked over to the retreating figure of Saito.

"Although I think the specialist is going to be not happy to find Bravo Zero requisitioned..."

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

NJP: Non Judicial Punishment, under Article 15 of the US Armed Forces Uniform Code of Military Justice this allows superior officers to administer discipline to rank and file soldiers without a court martial or Article 32 hearing.

Eye-EE-Dee: verbal phonetic warning of imminent detonation of an Improvised Explosive Device.

_(AN: Well, it was short, shorter than I would have liked, but I did get one last chapter in before 2015 officially concludes on this side of the hemisphere. And if you're curious, the reason Karin is in such a foul mood it's because she was having a daydream about Crosby, something along the lines of the 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head' sequence from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but I couldn't make it gel in the timeframe. I may include it in another chapter._

_Alas, Willy Pete will not make his debut before the Old Year goes out, but I can promise you that the New Year will open with a bang!)_


	152. A Line, Crossed

_(AN: So...we've come a looong way since ol' Spooky was just the Steel Dragon in the Desert. This chapter's title should be self-explanatory, for reasons that will become apparent I am bumping this chapter up to Mature. Ye've been warned, these be the last friendly words ye'll hear.)_

* * *

><p><strong>Tristainia Palace, 1330 hrs<strong>

Colonel John Konrad was seated at his desk, pouring over detailed terrain maps, when the door to the barracks opened. A royal guard from the Blackpowder Corps stepped in, and bowed her head by way of an apology.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Lord General, but her Majesty wishes to see you."

Konrad glanced down at the maps.

"Very well, inform the princess that I will see her shortly..."

The colonel went back to his work, unaware of the guard's smile as she stepped aside and opened the door wider. Princess Henrietta stepped in, regally dressed in her formal white gown with a purple ermine cape. The cavernous room echoed with her light footsteps as she approached Konrad's desk. He looked up from his work and smiled wryly.

"If I'd known I would have tidied the place up."

The princess gave a light laugh as she glanced down at his desk. It was cluttered with scrolls scribbled with diagrams and complex mathematical equations and a large map of the area around Dunkerque. Off to the side was a tray with several dishes, although the food itself was untouched. A small frown creased the princess's pretty features, the colonel had begged off from lunch in the Rose Garden, citing work, so she had the kitchen staff send lunch to the barracks. Henrietta looked back at Konrad, who seemed to read her mind.

"Sorry, your Highness, I guess I got caught up with work."

Henrietta looked unconvinced.

"John, what's wrong?"

Konrad rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"I fear that neither King Jozef nor the Reconquista will acquiesce to our terms, so we will have to use our secret weapon."

Henrietta took another step forward, and set her scepter down on his desk.

"But if you use this weapon, they will be defeated just like you said, right?"

The colonel nodded.

"But at a huge cost. This...this weapon's destructive power will kill hundreds, if not thousands, and I'm afraid...afraid of what will come next..."

He looked up and saw the worried look on Henrietta's face, then he shook his head.

"Forgive me, your Highness, it's just the burden of command, don't worry about it. By this time tomorrow, one way or another, Tristain will be liberated and her enemies will be utterly defeated."

Konrad took one of the princess's hands and smiled at her, and that seemed to do trick. She returned his smile.

"I told you John, you should be calling me Henrietta."

She lowered her eyes.

"Besides, I did come here to ask you something."

Konrad raised an eyebrow.

"About?"

The princess blushed lightly.

"Ever since you came here, you have been so generous and kind, and made so many sacrifices to save my kingdom. I could never fully repay you."

The princess reached out, and clasped both her hands in his.

"Before this War, before the Battle for Tristainia, you...you agreed to my overtures."

She closed her eyes as she continued.

"I-I know I don't have the right to invoke it, given my untoward behavior with the love potion, but..."

Konrad saw where this was going.

"Your hi...Henrietta, I'm not sure if this is a wise thing to do, Tristain will be in a very unique position after this is over, many of the countries in Helkeginia will be watching, and you will want to ensure diplomatic relations with all of them. To arrange a marriage with one of your...advisors might cause some ripples."

The princess looked up and shook her head emphatically.

"No! No, you are the only one who knows me...the real me...the real Henrietta. Ever since my mother died, I could not confide in anyone. They all looked up to me as their monarch..."

She gazed at him again, her large periwinkle-colored eyes shimmering at him.

"Please, please tell me that the betrothal wasn't just a ruse!"

Henrietta lowered her eyes, and spoke softly.

"I-I love you, John!"

She saw the shocked look on Konrad's face, but before he could respond Henrietta continued.

"I do! And I know you have feeling for me, John Konrad!"

Henrietta looked into his hazel eyes and smiled.

"Even your stoic demeanor can't hide it from me."

Konrad tried to avert his eyes, but Henrietta turned her head to maintain eye contact.

"I know how badly you were hurting, back when you first arrived. You carried a huge burden, and you shared that burden with me, just as I had confided in you."

She saw the colonel's stoic mask begin to crack, so she pressed on.

"Don't you see, John? We both have had our hearts broken, and only through each other can our hearts be made whole again."

The princess lowered her head.

"Please, I-I don't have anyone else to turn to..."

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Konrad tried to comfort the girl.

"Henrietta, as I told you before you're a beautiful young lady and any man would count his lucky stars to have your affections. But-"

He was stopped by a tiny finger that placed itself on his lips. He looked down to see the princess looking up at him.

"Please, John, please just consider my offer...think of it as a new beginning..."

For a long time Col. Konrad was silent as he stared into those large blue eyes bright with tears. Finally he let out a sigh.

"Alright Henrietta, I will promise to consider your offer, but on one condition."

The princess brightened up immediately.

"Of course, name it!"

Konrad continued.

"Tomorrow I will be flying to Dunkerque to accept the Reconquista's surrender. I would ask that you accompany me."

She sniffed and nodded once.

"As the monarch of Tristain, it is fitting that I be there when our enemies are brought to heel."

He leaned in.

"The other reason for you to come is that I want to you witness firsthand what our weapon is capable of. I want you to know why we were so hesitant to use it."

The princess stood up.

"...and then you will consider my offer?"

Before Konrad could respond the door opened and a figure in digital ACU's walked in. Lt. Gordon saluted.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir. but I just got word that Big Ugly One is inbound, ETA five mikes."

Konrad nodded.

"Understood."

He looked over to the princess.

"Henrietta, I'm sorry but duty calls."

She gave him a smile as she turned to leave.

"Not to worry. Do your duty and ensure the safety of my subjects, and tomorrow we will both ride to Dunkerque and accept the enemy's surrender!"

The colonel watched as the princess cheerily left the barracks, and shook his head sadly.

"...And tomorrow you will see just what sort of monster I am..."

* * *

><p>The Mi-24 Hind returned to the palace shortly after 1400 hours, and as soon as the Soviet gunship touched down and taxied over to the airstrip within the palace walls, Konrad was already descending the steps to meet with the occupants. As the engines spooled down and the blades slowed, the rear hatch opened and revealed the black and white armored Zulu Squad sergeant, and the Soviet officer in full dress uniform. Following them was PFC Walker, whose face betrayed no emotion. Vasya walked up to Konrad and gave a salute, which the colonel returned.<p>

"Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin reporting in, sir!"

Konrad nodded.

"Proceed, how did the meeting go?"

The Russian glanced back at Crosby and smiled wryly.

"As well as you might have expected. We delivered the terms of surrender, and both Jozef of Gallia and the leader of the Reconquista scoffed at our demands."

He rubbed his chin.

"I think we might have intimidated the king, but with that conniving bitch quashed any hopes we may have had of scaring them into submission."

The colonel let out a sight.

"I understand, it was a fool's hope, but now we can proceed with the mission."

He snapped another salute to Vasya.

"Captain, you are dismissed, and are no longer under my command. You can return back to the Palm Oasis-"

He was interrupted by the Russian scoffing.

"Hah! Think you can get rid of me that easily, Comrade Colonel? I think I'll stay a while, at least until Petya has finished repairs on the T-55."

Vasya pulled out his cigarette pack.

"And besides, I...I enjoy soldiering again. Staying with the elves, it was nice, don't get Vasya wrong. But it was too soft a life for a Soviet tanker."

He turned to leave.

I will check on the progress of the repairs and report back. I'd say good luck on your mission but,"

The Russian glanced back at Alex.

"-I think it would be in poor taste."

He grinned at Konrad.

"_Ni pukha, ni pera, Tovarisch_."

The colonel smiled as he gave the appropriate reply.

"_K chyortu!_"

Konrad watched the Soviet soldier retreat further into the palace grounds and turned to Crosby.

"The private, I assume nothing happened?"

The sergeant shook his head.

"Private First Class Walker personally told Jozef what would happen if he declined our terms. As Vasya said, I think it put the fear into him, except Sheffield cock-blocked us."

The colonel looked back to Alex.

"Well, Private? How do you feel?"

Alex stood at attention.

"Sir, this private is ready for duty, sir!"

Konrad nodded.

"Good to know."

He turned to Crosby.

"Sergeant, I want you to round up all of the 33rd, and Sgt. Lugo to the barracks for a debriefing, no exceptions."

* * *

><p><strong>(15 minutes later)<strong>

The soldiers all filed into the barracks one by one. The last, SSG Forbes, turned to a tall blue-haired girl who was trying to follow him in.

"Sorry, Illococoo, it's top secret. 33rd only."

Sylphid's human form whined.

"Oh, come on, let me come in, pleeease?!"

Her cajoling was cut short as stave bonked her on the head. Tabitha stood by her and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Soldier business. Let Forbes be."

The sergeant gratefully smiled at the shorter blue-haired girl.

"Thanks Tabitha!"

He looked over at Ilococoo, who was sulking.

"Look, I'll be like 15 minutes, tops, then we'll grab a snack, okay?"

Illococoo immediately perked up.

"Oh, we'll have apples?!"

Forbes nodded.

"Roger that, as many as you like. Just sit tight with you 'big sis' and wait for me, got it?"

The girl nodded once, and Forbes entered and shut the door behind him. Sgt. Lugo was grinning at him as he took his seat.

"Your harem giving you trouble, Grunt?"

"Negative, Delta Boy, just the dragon girl getting antsy."

Their conversation was cut short by Konrad clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen, as you may already be aware of, Sgt. Crosby and Captain Bylinkin have returned from their mission and the Reconquista have refused our generous terms of surrender."

There was ripple of snickering from the soldiers, which was silenced by one look from the colonel.

"Which means that Operation Righteous Fury is a go."

He paused.

"I...I want all of you to know that this is not an order. All of you know too well the actions committed by Damned 33rd on my orders in Dubai. And I won't let that happen again. If this mission is a damnable offense, that I alone will shoulder the responsibility, which is why I will be the one pulling the trigger."

He closed his eyes.

"Their blood will be on my hands alone."

Konrad opened his eyes, and he stared at each of the soldiers in turn.

"Notwithstanding, as you well know, the AC-130 gunship is not a one-man operation. Under normal circumstances Spooky would be manned by a crew of 13 airmen. However, given the circumstances, I need three volunteers. I need someone to pilot Spooky, and at least two gunners to load the big guns."

He chuckled humorlessly.

"I specifically forbade Colbert from casting his magical ammo cheat spell on the Willy Pete ordnance. When this mission is done, assuming there's any Willy Pete ammo left I'm having it destroyed."

The colonel shook his head.

"I cannot emphasize enough that this is not an order. And if all of you decide to abstain, then I will not hold it against you. We have Sharpshooters that are familiar enough with our technology that can do the job."

The soldiers were silent for a long two minutes. Finally Forbes spoke up.

"Umm...sir, with all due respect I would like excuse myself...I know most of you guys have been in this weird magical world for a long time, but Dubai was less than a month's memory for me."

He wiped some sweat from his shaved head.

"...the memory of the Gate is still...too soon. I'm sorry, sir."

Konrad shook his head.

"Don't be sorry, sergeant that is precisely why I am making this voluntary. I can appreciate your situation, you're dismissed from this debriefing."

Forbes stood up and slung his M4 over his shoulder.

"Good luck, sir."

The colonel watched as the sergeant left the room, then directed his gaze back to the remaining soldiers.

"Anyone else want out?"

Sgt. Crosby cleared his throat.

"Sir, I'll volunteer to fly Spooky."

Konrad nodded.

"Very well sergeant. You will remain for the debriefing."

He looked back at the others.

"Anyone else?"

PFC Alex Walker stood up.

"Sir, the Reconquista deserves to die for their crimes, and if we're going to shove a white-hot poker up their collective asses then I want my name to be on the handle, sir!"

The colonel gave the private a wry smile.

"I think I can accommodate you, Private Walker."

He stood up.

"Well, the rest is grunt labor that I can outsource to the Sharpshooters, for those who have volunteered I thank you, Tristain appreciates your service..."

* * *

><p><strong>(Improvised 33rd Airstrip, Outskirts of Tristainia 1125 hrs local time)<strong>

Colonel John Konrad stood in darkness in a wide, flat field. The grass had been scythed and rolled flat in preparation for its primary function as an airstrip. The colonel checked his watch, 2300 hours, and shook his head. Looming in the darkness was a large, ominous shape, with wings that splayed outwards, but it was no beast, though deadlier than any dragon in Helkeginia. The AC-130 gunship callsign Spooky arrived in the outskirts of Tristainia under the cover of night, courtesy of Professor Colbert, who was making final preparations. Konrad felt the wind on his back shift directions from the north to the east, and with it carried the rich pungent smell of decay. He shuddered as he saw a figure calling out to him in the darkness. The balding professor walked up to Konrad and gestured with his staff.

"The aeroplane has been armed and is ready for take-off, Lord General Konrad."

The colonel nodded.

"Alright, thank you for your help, that will be all."

Colbert turned to leave, but stopped.

"Er, Lord Gen-that is, John Konrad, are you sure this is the only way? Surely we can do something else..."

Konrad shook his head again.

"I'm afraid not, professor. Neither the Reconquista nor her allies the Gallians will back down. No, in order to defeat the Reconquista without any more Tristainian blood shed, we have to destroy them completely."

The professor lowered his head.

"I-I know that, John. It's just, to destroy Dunkerque, to kill all those soldiers...especially with this Dragon's Fire...from what you told me it will not be an easy or clean kill."

Konrad nodded in agreement.

"No, it will not be. Those who die in the initial explosions will be the lucky ones. The survivors will wish they were dead."

He continued.

"In my world, there was a philosopher who wrote a treatise on war. He said that when dealing with your enemies you should either forgive them or crush them completely, for to only wound them will allow them to strike back at the first opportunity."

The colonel looked back at Colbert.

"We tried half measures, professor, in the Battle for Tristainia, when we delivered a stinging defeat to Cromwell at a great cost to our own. Instead of crushing them we let them retreat, only to have them strike back at us. No, it to prevent this cancer from spreading we have to cut it out entirely, and the only way to do that is to crush the Reconquista once and for all, and to make an example out of them."

Professor Colbert nodded sadly.

"In my time as a soldier we had to do some terrible things for 'the greater good', as my superiors called it, so I know all to well that which you speak of."

He lowered his head as he turned to leave.

"I-I still wish there was another way."

Konrad watched as the professor disappeared into the darkness.

"By God I wish there was..." he whispered.

"Sir?"

The colonel turned to the source of the voice, and saw Sgt. Crosby approaching him. Accompanying the sergeant was Private Walker. They stopped and stood at attention. Crosby saluted.

"Sir, Spooky's crew-members are are reporting for duty."

The colonel returned the salute and smiled thinly.

"Well, no sense in delaying the inevitable, let's get to work, shall we?"

* * *

><p><strong>Operation Righteous Fury, T+25:33, approximately 30,000 feet over Dunkerque<strong>

Konrad sat at the gunner's station staring at the screen, trying not to look too closely at the targets on the screen lest their mannerisms betray their humanity to him. Suddenly his radio headset crackled to life.

_"Sir, we've reached Dunkerque, I'm locked Spooky into a pylon bank, so we're good to go."_

The colonel keyed his mic.

"Understood. Have you been in contact with HQ regarding...oh hell, has Gordon heard a response, any response, from the enemy, anything to stop me from committing murder most foul on the grandest of scale?"

There was a pause, then Crosby's voice came through the static.

"Ah, sir, probably be best if I just patched you through."

There was another hiss of static, and this time Konrad heard Lt. Gordon's voice.

_"Grim Reaper Actual, this is HQ, how copy?"_

Konrad smiled humorlessly to himself. Under the circumstances they changed Spooky's callsign to something more appropriate.

"HQ this is Grim Reaper Actual, solid copy. So give me the bad news straight, HQ, has there been a response to our ultimatum?"

Gordon responded, and even though his voice was distorted by the radio interference Konrad could still make out the irritation in the lieutenant's voice.

_"Princess Henrietta's envoys just returned and both the Bastard and the Bitch were asleep. Their guards told our envoys that King Jozef would speak to the princess in person, specifically after they've taken Tristainia and burned it to the ground."_

The colonel gritted his teeth. The hubris of these so-called nobles in Helkeginia belonged in a tragic theater play. Gordon continued.

_"...Sir, maybe if we waited till dawn-"_

"No. It has to be now," Konrad interrupted, his voice filled with equal parts anger and regret.

"...we have to have the element of surprise, and we have to send a message that we mean what we say."

There was a long pause, then Gordon responded.

_"Understood, sir. I'd say 'good hunting' but under the circumstances-"_

"I know, lieutenant. That is why I wanted it to me be pulling the trigger. Too many of my men had blood on their hands following my orders. Be advised we will be maintain radio silence until the mission is concluded. Grim Reaper Actual out."

Konrad keyed off the mic and turned back to the screen, zooming out to a larger view of the entire camp. The enemy's camp on the ground showed up white on the green screen, as he zoomed in he could see figures, sleeping in tents, sitting around fires, some walking patrol. Zooming further out Konrad could see the entire fortress city of Dunkerque was overrun, four massive tanks the same size as the K-Wagen that attacked at Brugues were guarding a hole in the fortress's defenses. Doubtlessly that's how the Reconquista go in, Konrad thought to himself.

He wondered what the last moments of Dunkerque's defenders was like, outnumbered and outgunned, fighting a desperate battle. The grim thought actually steeled Konrad, for he knew that the same targets on his screen were the ones that massacred the Sharpshooters.

Humans, the colonel corrected himself, not targets on a screen. These were living, breathing humans whose only crime was being born in the wrong country. Yes, they had burned Dunkerque to the ground, and based on the intel they received and what the deserter said the conquerors weren't very discriminatory in their killings. In fairness, these men thought that Tristain was responsible for the death of Prince Wales, and their leader Oliver Cromwell, as well as violating Gallia's sovereignty.

That piqued Konrad the most, these men were just following orders, just like in Dubai. And, just like in Dubai those same men were going to die because they were following the orders of their rulers. Rulers who were not elected, rulers whom the average soldier had no control over. Rulers were stupid, spiteful, petty idiots who wage war for the stupidest of reasons; religion and petty vengeance. And he was going to be their executor.

Konrad paused and finally checked his watch. 00:01. One minute past the deadline. He waited one more minute, looking over to where his headset was plugged in, praying for a call that would deliver these poor bastards from from him and from a horrible death. Finally he switched channels to internal and keyed his mic.

"Gentlemen, Operation Righteous Fury is a go, get ready."

In the back of the aircraft Alex listened in his headset, then signaled the two Sharpshooters that were with him.

"Alright, we're a go, just like we practiced!"

They both nodded, one pulled a large shell off the rack and pushed it into the breach of the 105mm artillery gun. The other pulled two clips of 40mm mortar shells off a separate rack, and fed one into each of the two Bofors top-loading hoppers. Alex watched as the breach to the artillery gun was secured, and the gun pivoted back down into firing position. He keyed his mic.

"Bofors Forty Mike-Mike and One Oh Five are primed and ready, sir!"

At the fire control station, Konrad listened to the response on the radio, closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer.

"God forgive me."

He pulled the trigger on the joystick, and Hell rained down on Dunkerque.

* * *

><p><strong>(Reconquista Encampment just outside Dunkerque, 1145 hrs local time)<strong>

Sir John looked up from the scroll as the last chimes of his desk clock faded away. It was almost midnight, and he still had several requisitions to fill out by morning. He stretched and rubbed his eyes, then stood up from his chair. The noble pulled open the flap of the tent that served as his headquarters and took a breath of the night air to clear his head. His guard, a young man from Londinium, bowed.

"Mi'lord, Lady Sheffield wants an update on the provisions she requested!"

Sir John nodded.

"Very well, lead the way."

His four bodyguards fell in formation and marched through the camp. For a moment Sir John recalled the Outworlder named Crosby, and the ominous warning that he gave him. As it turned out, the noble's fears were unfounded. The grace period for Sheffield's terms of surrender had expired, so come dawn they would march for Tristainia. It would not be a quick victory, for even with bolstered with numbers from their Gallian allies the Reconquista would have the Outworlders and their weapons to contend with. Still, with superior numbers and their own tanks Sheffield was confident that Tristiania would fall.

Sir John's thoughts were interrupted as he heard something. They were currently making their way through the Gallian mercenary encampment, and at first it sounded like a girl's laughter, but as his ears strained against the wind, it was not a cry of laughter, but one of pain. Suddenly one of the tent flaps burst open and a figure staggered out and collapsed at Sir John's feet.

It was a girl, either in her early twenties or late teens, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes. She probably was an attractive girl, at least before she was captured. Now, her bare skin was covered in cuts and bruises, her dark purple hair matted and caked with mud. She was practically naked, her modesty was barely covered by a couple of filthy green strips of cloth, what was left of her uniform. Vaguely the Albion noble recalled that there was a detachment of all-female soldiers stationed at Dunkerque, called the Blackpowder Corps or something. At the time Sir John scoffed at the idea of women serving in a combat function, they simply didn't belong in a battlefield.

But now Sir John stared at the girl, her large eyes pleading for deliverance. Before he could even speak the girl was jerked roughly onto her back, it was then that the noble saw a crude metal collar around her neck with a chain attached. A fat Gallian merc who reeked of garlic and cheap wine stepped out of the same tent holding the other end of the chain, and leered at the girl.

"'S'blood! Looks like our little plaything tried to run off!"

He looked over to Sir John and cackled evilly.

"That's why we gots to keep them chained up, ain't that right?"

The noble seethed and backhanded the man, which unfortunately caught the attention of his comrades, who also emerged from the tent. There were six, in all, outnumbering Sir John's escort, who clutched their Enfields nervously. The noble, on the other hand seemed not to notice as he glared at the man still on the ground.

"Commoner filth! Allies or not you will be respectful when addressing your betters! And keep your filthy debauchery to yourself!"

The Gallians clutched their polearms menacingly, but Sir John pulled a wand out of his cloak, stopping them in their tracks.

"Make me a happy man and just try to attack me, fools! I am a Triangle Wind Mage, and I will blow you fools back to Gallia in little pieces!"

Finally their leader back down, and the rest of the Gallians lowered their weapons. As the leader left he gave the chain a tug and began pulling the enslaved girl back into his tent. The girl tried to in vain to resist, but she was not as strong. Sir John closed his eyes and marched forward, unwilling to look at her eyes, or hear her pleas. Though he could not understand her Tristainian words, the emotion behind those words were clear. It didn't matter, he told himself, she was an enemy combatant and was stupid enough to go to war against a numerically superior foe using outdated weapons.

He knew what it meant to follow orders unquestioningly, and although Sir John did not agree with Sheffield's order to execute the survivors of the siege, right down to the civilians, he knew the cold logic behind the order; there simply wasn't enough resources to house, guard or feed the thousands prisoners. He still could not abide by the disgusting habits of the Gallians. Then suddenly he heard a booming voice in the darkness.

_"Beep-beep-beep beep! This just in! News has just reached Tristain of an unwarranted massacre of civilians after the fall of Dunkerque, not to mention the raping and pillaging means...you guessed it! An overwhelmingly disproportionate act of retribution by the Damned 33rd!" _

The night air reverberated with the sound of the hated Jester of Tristain, Sir John and the rest of his soldiers looked skyward but could see nothing. The voice continued, echoing across the plain.

_"...And I know this normally the bit where I'm supposed to crack a witty joke but due to the severity of your war crimes all jokes have been permanently preempted in favor of this important message, courtesy of the Damned 33rd:"_

There was a pause, and for a moment the Jester's voice lost all humor as the next words were snarled out.

_"BURN IN HELL!"_

There was a sound of distant thunder, as the clouds in the dark sky began churning and billowing. Then lightening split the sky as streaks of bright white light streamed down from the thunderhead. Sir John pushed past a Fusilier to see where it would impact. Suddenly without warning the streaks burst with a blinding flash, followed by a deafening explosion.

The explosion send hundreds of smaller streaks of light down, burning contrails like comets. The blinding light streaked towards a large outbuilding that was constructed to house the _Escadron Rafale_, an elite unit of Fire Dragons and their Gallian riders. At first the contrails seemed harmless as they landed on the roof, but then suddenly it burst into flame, and Sir John heard panicked shouting spread throughout the camp. Sir John grapped one Fusilier and slapped some sense into him.

"You there! Form a detail and get some water to put out that fire!"

He stared at the dragon's eyrie as it burned, and saw men trying to put the fire out. Then Sir John heard more rumblings like thunder reverberate in the night sky, and he looked up. The sight caused Sir John to lose control of his bowels as a dozen blinding streaks of light streamed down. These impacted on and around the building, causing the entire structure to be engulfed in flames. Sir John saw the men who were trying to put the fire out caught in the middle of the inferno, they were writhing in pain.

But what froze the noble's blood was the screams carried by the wind. At first he thought it was the men screaming, but the pitch was too raw, too primal. It was the dragons, still trapped in the building, that were bellowing in pain. Then the eyrie's roof exploded outwards as one desperate dragon tried to escape its fiery torment, but to no avail, the membranes of its wings were burning and it could find no purchase in the air, instead it collapsed back into the inferno.

Sir John shuddered, he knew of no fire that could burn dragons, especially Fire Dragons, then suddenly he realized something as he stared at the destruction. He wanted to believe that it was just a coincidence, but a cold fear stabbed his guts like a knife as he recalled the Outworlder's warning. This fire from the heavens was not some natural phenomenon, it was a calculated offensive maneuver. Whoever was doing this had effectively disabled the Reconquista's air defenses, which meant only one thing. The Outworlders were attacking.

* * *

><p>Konrad watched as the Reconquista's dragon eyrie burned. With the <em>Escadron Rafale <em>eliminated the 33rd would have effective air superiority over Dunkerque. Finally he zoomed out and spoke into his radio.

"Dragon Eyrie destroyed, moving on to eliminate enemy fortification..."

He moved the joystick and the camera panned with it, until the main keep of Dunkerque filled the screen. Briefly he could see bright flashes of light coming from the turrets and loopholes. The enemy knew where the fire was coming from, but Spooky was well out of range of their rifles. Suddenly he heard Alex's voice come through the static again.

_"Bofors Forty Mike-Mike and One Oh Five primed and ready, sir!"_

Konrad pulled the trigger, and he felt the aircraft shudder as the mortars and artillery gun fire. Seconds later the viewscreen showed Dunkerque's keep explode as the stonework crumbled. He watched detached as the fortress collapsed, then spoke mechanically into his headset.

"Enemy fortification down. Moving onto eliminate enemy armor..."

* * *

><p>Sir John walked through the hellish landscape as if in a daze. Fires raged uncontrollably as they bathed the surrounding area in an angry reddish orange light, turning the camp into a hellish landscape. The noble shuddered as he staggered past burning bodies, some dead, some that wished fervently for death. His face was covered by a scarf, he found that the very air was unbreathable as burning motes still lazily flickered in the air like embers in a furnace. Many surviving soldiers found out the hard way as they perished choking on the poisonous fumes and clutching bleeding throats.<p>

He heard a distant explosion, followed by a series of smaller detonations, and glanced over. The Reconquista's Armored Brigade, like the rest of the invading army, was a completely decimated. Even the mighty K-Wagens were no match for the terrible Dragon Fire, as Sir John saw the last on catch fire even as its turret guns pointed skyward and fired vainly into the air. The noble had seen many soldiers do the same, raising their weapons and firing blindly into the sky, as if that would somehow stop the onslaught of fire.

In the distance he could see Dunkerque burning as well, he had watched in horror as it's massive keep collapsed in a fiery inferno. The mighty fortress was nothing more than a burning ruin now. Sir John had heard of the Outworlder's destructive capabilities before, but never in his wildest dreams or fevered nightmares would he have thought them having weapons that were capable of such wanton carnage. His attention was drawn to a small crowd gathered in an opening, surrounded by the burning tents. As he pushed his way through he saw that they were trying to restrain a wounded soldier lying on the ground. The wounded Fusilier's clothes had burned off his back, and he writhed in the dirt like man possessed as he clawed with bloodied fingers at a charred burning wound on his back.

"It burns! Please sir, get it out for the love of Brimir it burns!"

That was the true horror of this Dragon Fire, the incandescent fragments would ignite anything on impact, but when it encountered flesh the burning shrapnel would bury itself deep and continue to burn. Sir John had seen many soldiers die that way. He pulled the wounded man to his feet.

"Make way, I will take you to the apothecary!"

He saw a tent with the symbol of caduceus, twin serpents entwining a rod, and gestured towards it.

"Have courage, son! The healer will help!"

Sir John pushed open the flap and was greeted by the stench of burning flesh. A weary looking elderly man looked up from an operating table, covered up to his elbows in blood.

"If you have wounded unless he's dying he'll have to wait."

The noble stepped forward.

"Please, there is burning metal inside this man, he suffers greatly!"

The surgeon glanced over to one of the men carrying a stretch.

"You there! See to that wounded man."

The orderly walked over and motioned the wounded man to sit on a stool. He bent over the man, examined the still-smoking wound on his back.

"This Dragon's Fire is horrible, in all my years I've never seen something so wantonly cruel."

He shook his head.

"You know that most of the soldiers I've treated claim that this is Brimir's vengeance? Divine retribution meted on the Reconquista for their crimes?"

Sir John looked down at the wounded man.

"Does it matter?"

The orderly shrugged, then grabbed a pair of forceps and a leather strap. He handed the strap to the wounded man.

"Bite down on this, sir."

He then looked up at the noble.

"Hold him down, this will be very painful for him."

Sir John nodded and seized the wounded soldier in a headlock. The orderly pushed down on the wound and plunged the forceps into it. The soldier screamed through the improvised bridle as the orderly tried to pry the chunk of metal from his skin. His fingers slipped in the blood and he cursed.

"Damn you, he has to be still! If you're a mage do something about it!"

Sir John pulled out his wand and muttered an incantation, and the man froze. Stifled screams foamed from the soldiers's mouth, but at least he was immobile. The orderly wiped his brow and continued with his work. After working forceps around, he let out a sigh.

"Finally got it loose, get me something to contain this!"

Sir John saw an shallow earthenware pot sitting on the shelf and turned to grab it. That his back was turned saved the noble's life, for at that very moment the orderly pulled the fragment of white phosphorus from the injured soldier's back. No sooner was the fragment exposed to air that it burst into flames, burning both the patient and the orderly. The burst caught Sir John's cloak on fire, and he tumbled out of the tent as he rolled on the ground trying to put the fire out.

When he pulled off the smoldering wreck that was his cap Sir John glanced back in horror. The apothecary tent was ablaze. Was nothing safe from this Dragon's Fire, Sir John thought as he slumped against a rock to catch his breath. Movement caught his eye and he turned sharply. There was another figure crawling on the ground, almost naked, its legs were nothing more than charred stumps. With every move the body convulsed as if wracked in excruciating pain. It took Sir John a moment to realize that the figure was female. The pathetic creature opened her eyes and regarded him with a pleading look that he remembered. Cracked lips parted and a voice rasped from a scorched throat.

_"Pour pitié, tuez-moi, je t'en prie..."*_

Sir John didn't know what words the Tristainian girl was speaking, but the meaning was clear. Without a word, he raised his Enfield and fired a shot into the girl's chest. As soon as the bullet hit home, her body ceased convulsing, and slumped to the ground. He remembered what the orderly said, and now he understood. This wasn't just an attack, this was punishment. The Outworlders weren't merely trying to defeat the Reconquista, they were sending a message, and it's message was clear. He sighed as he stared at the motionless body.

"Forgive me, girl..."

* * *

><p><strong>(Outskirts of Tristainia, 0330 local time)<strong>

Though the sun was still hours from rising there was an ominous glow in the distance like an artificial dawn that lit up the improvised landing strip. The AC-130 gunship banked to the left as it made its final approach, lowered its landing gear and leveled off as it descended. The artificial dawn was of no wonder to the 33rd, they knew it was the fire that consumed Dunkerque and the surrounding Reconquista camp. As Spooky taxied to a stop there was one lone figure waiting on the edge of the tarmac. When the gunship came to a stop and its propellers spooled down a hatch opened, and Konrad was the first to disembark. Lt. Gordon saluted him as he approached.

"Sir!"

Konrad returned the salute.

"I assume we have the Reconquista's attention?"

Gordon nodded.

"You could say that, sir. King Jozef of Gallia has an envoy to the court of princess Henrietta, asking for an audience."

Konrad smiled grimly.

"It would appear that they now are taking our ultimatum seriously."

He turned to leave.

"Dismiss the envoy, tell them we'll send our own. At dawn send out an envoy with a message stating that King Jozef and Lady Sheffield are to surrender into the 33rd's custody. Tell them that they have until noon to comply, after that we will commence bombarding Londinium and Lutèce with the same ordinance. That should help speed things up."

Konrad glanced back at the artificial dawn.

"I hope they'll surrender, otherwise we're damning ourselves for nothing."

* * *

><p>Glossary:<p>

Ni pukha ni pera, (_Ни пуха, ни пера_): Lit. translated as 'Not a bit of down, nor a single feather', a Russian idiom that comes from hunter's superstitions (to avoid jinxing the hunt) they wish their fellow hunters to never find any game ("down" meant animals, "feather" meant birds).

K chyortu, (_К черту_): Lit translated as 'Go to Hell' but is used as a response to the above idiom, like 'Break a leg'

For you non-Francophones, the burned victim is saying "For pity's sake, please kill me!"

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Wow...that was quite intense. I'll admit it, I've been writing this chapter pretty much since the chapter Desert Storm, and more recently I forced myself to replay the Gate chapter from SO:TL to get the right atmosphere. I had toyed with making the gunship attack seem awesome from the 33rd's perspective, but honestly I couldn't bring myself to do it. Besides, Konrad knows fully well the gravity of using Willy Pete. Also for those of you who were curious the enslaved girl is one of Tristain's own. She's actually named as Michelle in FOZ's anime, and is Agne's second in command. I needed a familiar face to drive home just how horrible the Gallians were, also to Deconstruct the whole Amazon Brigade that was the BlackPowderGunpowder Corps in the Anime. Next chapter will shift perspective, I had meant to put it in earlier but decided for pacing purposes it would work better after Willy Pete's arrival. Until then!)_


	153. Dirty Coward

_(AN: Wow, based off the comments and reactions from the last chapter I say I accomplished what I set out to do. Several of the readers had asked why no BGM for the chapter, and I'd say the reason is pretty evident. While the Reconquista and co had it coming, I didn't want the white phosphorus attack to come off as cool or awesome, rather it needed to be seen in all its horror._

_Moving right along, this interlude was something that I had debated publishing before Willy Pete made his debut, but decided that it fits best here. Before we proceed, this is a sort-of flashback to what happened at Dunkerque, and going over gory details so once again I am bumping this chapter to Mature for violence and other...unpleasant things. You've been warned, this is where SO:TL goes into full gear.)_

* * *

><p>"So this is Hell," Agnès de Milan thought to herself.<p>

In her life Agnès never considered herself very religious. The trauma she suffered at D'Angleterre had her doubting that Brimir or any other higher power existed, only cruel fate and blind luck. Now she was dead, and apparently in Hell. It wasn't the way she pictured it, as a child when her parents were still alive her mother would scare her with tales of an afterlife full of fire and brimestone, and being tormented by the most terrifying daemons. But even that would be preferable to this.

Her parents, and the priests got Hell wrong; it was not a lake of fire with daemons. Hell was a battlefield that never ended, where both sides would kill without purpose or reason, to slaughter each other forever and ever without end. The haze of battle, the choking stench of burning flesh and the acrid stink of cordite and spent gunpowder. To stuck in a battlefield for an eternity, with that smell forever ingrained on her nostrils, that was a fate worse than any hellfire. After an eternity, Agnès heard a voice.

"Commander! Are you awake?"

She opened her eyes. The cordite and cooked meat smell was still there, but this time she saw a girl wearing the livery of the Royal Gunpowder Corps. She had short purple-black hair, and her white Chevalier cloak stained with gunpowder and dust. Agnès accepted the chevalier's offered hand.

"Apparently still alive, Michelle d'Orléans."

She pulled herself up from the rubble and ruins that was Dunkerque's main defense wall.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, how bad is it?"

Michelle shook her head.

"Not good, Commander. The Reconquista have breached our defenses."

The Knight-Commander nodded.

"So they have the upper hand?"

Michelle shrugged.

"Well, they have numerical superiority, the element of surprise, their siege engines and repeating rifles, so yes, I'd say they have the upper hand."

The knight-commander narrowed her eyes.

"If that was your attempt at humor you failed."

Her adjunct looked back at the Sharpshooters forming up and firing a volley into the advancing Reconquista Fulsiliers.

"Well, humor and harsh language is about all we'll have on those bastards."

Agnès pointed to the ruined wall.

"We need to rally the survivors and repel the invaders, if we don't seal up that breach the Reconquista will pour in here, and we will be overrun in a matter of hours."

Their conversation was interrupted by another Sharpshooter, a young man, who was running breathlessly past Agnès, she grabbed him by the elbow.

"You there! Where are you off to?"

The young man looked frightened.

"Commander! All is lost!"

The commander shook the soldier.

"Get ahold of yourself, man!"

The man continued to babble as if she had not spoken.

"All is lost! I must get to Sir Richilieu, we must flee!"

Agnès backhanded the man.

"Fool! Where would we flee to?"

She gestured to the town behind them.

"There are over ten thousand men, women and children in Dunkerque, if we do not defend them how many will die, and how many will be left tomorrow after the Reconquista have sated their thirst for blood?"

That seemed to work, the Sharpshooter straightened up. Agnès held up another hand to strike him, but was stopped by Michelle.

"With respect, commander, wait."

She continued in a calmer voice.

"Now, what is this nonsense about fleeing?"

The Sharpshooter glanced nervously over at the commander, and quailed slightly under her steely glare.

"T-there are several men who wish to flee Dunkerque, their leader is a Sharpshooter noble named Sir Richileu."

Agnès seethed, but forced herself to be calm while Michelle responded.

"Alright, where are these dirty cowards at?"

The Sharpshooter pointed off to the side.

"The West Gate, Commander, they intend to flee on horseback."

Michelle glanced over to Agnès, whose frown deepened, but then she gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Dirty cowards and idiots, the lot of them."

She looked over to Michelle.

"I will attend to these deserters. Michelle, you rally the remaining Sharpshooters, tell them to form an infantry square to repulse the invaders."

Michelle nodded and gave a salute.

"To victory!"

Agnès returned the salute, and gave the traditional Gunpowder Corps response.

"...or to a valiant death!"

Michelle watched as her commander disappeared into the smoke, then called out in a commanding voice.

"All remaining Sharpshooters, form up on me! We shall form a square, and repel these Reconquista invaders!"

She pointed to the two remaining artillery cannons.

"Sir, get a detail together and position the artillery at the breach. If another tank tries to fire at us, destroy it and try to get it stuck, as it will prevent the others from entering."

The man nodded and shouldered his Martini rifle.

"As you command, Chevalier!"

She nodded.

"Very good. Remember, we must repel the invaders, to the last man if necessary..."

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the West Gate, Agnès was livid at what she saw. A score of Sharpshooters, all able-bodied men, were readying horses and preparing to flee. To desert one's post at such a time was anathema to her Chevalier's code. She pulled out her revolver and fired a round in the air.<p>

"Which among you gutless weaklings is the leader? Who is Sir Richilieu?"

A man with unsettling green eyes stepped forward, handsome in a cruel sort of way. He gave a mocking bow.

"I am Sir Richilieu. You must be the commander of the Sharpshooters, then."

She glared at the man and his glibness.

"Were we not so shorthanded I would shoot you where you stand."

She turned to the rest of the men.

"Return to your posts, the battle is not yet lost while we still draw breath!"

To her horror Agnès found the men just stood there, she turned to Sir Richilieu, who was still smiling.

"They are my men, girl, they reported to me long before you and your ragtag commoners showed up to Dunkerque."

He looked back at the frontlines of the battle, and saw another wall collapse under fire from a Reconquista siege cannon.

"This battle is lost, Dunkerque is lost, and I for one don't intend to lose my life for a bunch of filthy commoners."

Agnès shook her head.

"No! That's a coward's excuse, we have a duty to stay and protect these people!"

The man shrugged.

"We have a duty to survive, and not throw our lives away for a lost cause."

He turned to leave.

"I plan on living a long life, commander, and my little Game of Swords doesn't involve dying unknown on some battlefield."

Sir Richilieu saw Agnès glare at him and raise her pistol. He flinched as she fired, but the bullet missed his head. He turned around in time to see one of the horses fall dead. Each of the men flinched as she fired again, until finally she lowered her revolver.

"That should solve that problem."

She turned again to face the men.

"The Reconquista aren't the only ones laying siege to Dunerkque, her Gallian allies attack from the forest, so if you attempt to flee on foot you will be cut down before you leave the Gévaudan Forest. Your only choice is to stay and fight."

She stuffed her pistol back into her sash and continued.

"So, if there are no objections, you will return to the front and report to Michelle d'Orléans-"

Agnès was interrupted by a loud whinny. She looked over and cursed, there was still one horse left, and Sir Richilieu was in the process of hastily saddling it. She looked back to the men.

"Hurry back to the front! I will deal with him!"

She then took off at a full run, crouched and leaped forward to pull the cowardly Sharpshooter off his mount. Her lunge came up short, and she landed on the back of the horse just as it took off. As the horse charged ahead at full tilt both Agnès and Sir Richilieu struggled to gain control of the reigns. She cursed to herself that she couldn't reach her pistol in these close quarters, but the deserter had no such compunctions.

She watched as Sir Richilieu pulled out his own musket and fired. The musket went wild, but the muzzle flash burned Agnès' bare leg, and the explosion spooked the horse. It reared up in terror, but she had no purchase or stirrups, so Agnès was thrown off its back. She landed hard on a large tree root, and saw stars.

Through the haze of pain she saw Sir Richilieu toss aside his musket and gave another ironic salute.

"I thank you, Commander Agnès de Milan, for buying me time to escape..."

Furious, Agnès tried to stand, but the burning pain in her leg caused her to collapse to the ground again. The wound on her thigh was raw and bloodied but she could put weight on it. Her other leg was certainly broken in the fall, as a knifing pain stabbed through it as she tried to stand. As she struggled to pull herself up she heard voices and her blood froze.

They were harsh, Gallian-accented voices. In the distance she counted at least a dozen torches, and for the first time in a long time Agnès was terrified. She knew what the Gallians were capable of, and she was in no condition to fight them off. She looked down at her revolver, and pulled it out. For a while she stared at it, then she steeled her resolve, pushed the barrel against her temple, and pulled the trigger.

She heard a click, and nothing happened. She looked at her pistol and cursed herself. Empty! She fired all six shots! Frantically she wracked her brain to find a means of escaping. But it was too late, a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and hauled her roughly to her feet. The sour stink of stale wine and sweat assaulted her nose as Agnès heard a rough voice speak.

"Look what we have here, boys!"

A hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. The man was massive, with a scarred face partially covered by a filthy beard. He leered at her and turned to the other Gallian soldiers that surrounded her.

"Z'ounds this one's a girl, and a pretty one at that!"

He leaned in.

"I ain't never seen the breasts of a real life Tristainian girl before..."

Agnès struggled against her captors, but her arms were pinned behind her back, she was powerless as the Gallian mercenary reached forward and tore her armored breastplate off, leaving only her green dress as protection. She recoiled as his rough hands fondled her breasts. He continued in the same harsh voice as he groped her.

"Come to think of it, never been able to fuck one good and proper."

He looked over to the other Gallians holding her.

"Looks like we'll all find out today, eh boys?"

They all laughed salaciously, and through the haze of pain from her legs Agnès forced herself to stay conscious. She dared not pass out, for while she was still conscious she could struggle against them. She let out a stifled yelp as her two captors forced her to the ground and spread her legs apart. The powder burn wound on her leg throbbed in pain, but at least it kept her from passing out. Agnès struggled in vain as her captors ripped her cloak, tore away her leggings and greaves, and finally tore apart her green dress; leaving her completely exposed.

The large one started to undo his trousers.

"Well, let's see how your little Tristainian clam fares against a good Gallian fucking!"

Suddenly there was a roar, like the snarl of a wild animal but distorted to something more sinister, followed by loud explosions that sounded like gunfire. All thoughts of pleasure left the Gallian as he saw two of his soldiers running from the forest. One of them fell on all fours and bawled like a child.

"What is wrong, you cowardly dogs!?"

The one on the ground didn't respond, but the other spoke up in a trembling voice.

"A-a MONSTER!"

The leader glared.

"What in the four Hells are you blathering about?! Make sense man!"

The trembling one pointed a shaking finger deeper into the forest.

"I-it's in there! It's the Beast of Gévaudan Forest, it has to be! It is avenging the citizens of Dunkerque! It's butchering us!"

The large leader was about to retort when he heard another roar, and in the gloom he saw sight of the creature his men were fleeing. There emerged from the mist and was a monstrous shadow with eyes that glowed menacingly in the darkness.

* * *

><p>Nathaniel Garro was home, finally. After three years of denying himself, three years of locking away his weapons and armor, concealing his true nature, he was finally doing was he trained for, what he was made for, to be on the field of battle. He had heard, through the green-haired witch's foul magika, of King Jozef's corruption and his intentions to overrun the fortress city of Dunkerque and massacre its civilians.<p>

That was all the excuse he needed to don his old warplate again, and pick up his sword and bolter. He felt whole again, as if the bulky Mark III power armor was a second skin, and he effortlessly he backhanded an enemy soldier. As he watched the wretched body crash against a tree trunk and slump lifelessly to the ground, Garro knew that it was vanity to think that he could singlehandedly turn the tide of battle, but at the least he thought he could save lives.

Alas, that was not to be. When he arrived at Dunkerque and found it overrun, his grief turned to anger and then turned to exacting vengeance. Not that Garro minded. And as was such the case when dealing with mere mortal men, this was no battle. It was a massacre. He relished it, Emperor forgive him, but it was what Nathaniel was made for. He felt a minor ping on his helm as a small metal slug bounced off his armor. He raised his boltgun and fired a single shot, reducing the Gallian mercenary who fired on him to a red paste when the bolt detonated. He could feel his blood sing as a potent cocktail of stimulants pumped from the implants of his armor into his bloodstream, and eagerly he scanned the area for more targets.

The moderate side of him reminded Garro that he was also here to rescue any refugees as well, so he also scanned the woods for survivors. With a single blink his visor washed the entire world from red to a vivid blue, with live targets showing bright white with orange and yellow body heat signatures. Suddenly his targeting recticle zeroed in on a prone form, and with a blink command his vision zoomed in on it.

The image resolution clarified, showing a girl. As the targeting reticle zeroed in on her face a readout in High Gothic searched the information database to put a name to the face. With a chime, it revealed the girl to be Agnès de Milan, leader of the Tristainian Royal Guards. Vaguely he remembered the girl from the last time he was at the palacce, she was a bodyguard to the Princess Henrietta.

The readout listed her body temperature was abnormally high and that she was suffering from elevated blood pressure and heartbeat, as well as suffering a compound fracture on her right leg and a nasty burn on her left thigh. It was then that Garro noticed that she not only undressed but being restrained by her captors. Then the Astartes saw a large man standing over her, and even as an Astartes with no discernible sex drive Garro understood what the man's intentions were. Nathaniel Garro's battle lust faded, and in it's place was a burning hot righteous fury. He raised his weapon again and aimed for the man's head.

* * *

><p>Agnès saw her captor and would-be rapist had stopped, and was looking off to the side, staring into the distance, when suddenly his head explodes in a shower of blood and grey matter. The body crumbled to the ground, unhelpfully falling on her bad leg and she bit down a yelp of pain. The other soldiers around her turned to the direction of the gunshot, their sport long forgotten. In the mist appeared a massive armored figure with heavy pauldrons. The very ground trembled with each footfall from the giant. Baleful eyes glowed red and regarded the Gallians, and a hiss of breath steamed from its snarling mouth. A baritone voice, too deep and grating to be human, rumbled like two mountains colliding.<p>

**"****You dare to sully this battle with your despoiling and pillaging? Where is your honor?"**

As the armored figure approached the men were petrified with fear. It had to be at least seven or eight feet tall, it was much too large to be human. Agnès also got a look at the creature's armor, it covered the golem from head to toe in interlocking plate the color of marble, edged in gold and rich verdant green. An unearthly hum emanated from a large angular construct like a backpack, it was a repellent feeling that caused her gums to itch.

The creature brandished a weapon with one hand. The rifle-like construct looked vaguely like something the Outworlders would have, but it was massive, the weapon's barrel resembled the bore of a cannon instead of a rifle. As it prepared to fire, several of the Gallian mercenaries wisely dropped their weapons and ran screaming in terror as the creature closed the distance, but more held their ground and raised their weapons. They each fired five rounds in rapid succession, only to see the bullets ricochet harmlessly off the armor. The creature's eyes blazed red in righteous fury as it continued to rumble.

**"So be it. ****Your blood shall soak this earth for your crimes!"**

The golem raised its blocky weapon and pulled the trigger.

**"****You shall DIE!"**

The darkness of the woods was dispelled by the flashes of fire that emanated from the weapon's barrel as the golem fired, and the sound was deafening. More Gallians fell to its destructive power, as mail and even plate armor was no match for it. Those who fought or fled, heavily armored knights or unarmored Fusiliters, all were reduced to an explosions of wet meat and bone fragments. Two survivors took cover behind a tree and shouted for more reinforcements, and their hearts lifted at the sight of a dozen more of their compatriots coming to their aid.

Beneath his helm Garro narrowed his eyes. His preysight counted at least ten more Gallians coming in at reinforcements. He glanced quickly down at the girl, and saw that she was no long in immediate danger. Her wounds would need tending, but that would wait. These dogs didn't deserve to die by the bolter. He secured his boltgun and clamped it onto the maglock of strip by his thigh, and drew his longsword Libertas. The blade cracked with energy as its field activated.

The Gallian reinforcements saw the creature attached its weapon to one armored leg, then drew a long sword that crackled with blue bolts of unholy energy. Several of the braver Fusililiers formed up and fired another volley at the creature, but it had the same effect as the first volley, no avail. The creature crouched low, then with inhuman speed lept up into the air, and landed in the Fusiliers' midst. In one fluid motion it swung its massive bastard sword and decapitated three soldiers in a row, before plunging its sword and disemboweling a fourth.

Agnès propped her head to one side and watched in a mixture of fascination and horror at the creature's movements. As massive as it was it moved with dexterity and a dancer's grace. The fluidity of its motions reminded her of her youth in D'Angleterre; she remembered the spring maypole that her and her friends used to dance around, pirouetting with silk streamers. Except in this instance the streamers were fountains of blood and ropes of severed viscera that were left in the creature's wake. Something hit her wounded leg, and she had to stifle a cry of pain and fear, for it was a dismembered head a Fusilier, his face contorted in a silent scream.

Then as abruptly as it had started it was over. All the Reconquista Fusiliers and their Gallian counterparts were dead; dismembered, disemboweled or decapitated. The armored creature had turned the forest into a charnel house of blood, severed limbs and chunks of meat that used to be men that flowered outwards from where it stood. Slowly it turned its helm to examine the carnage, as if looking for survivors. Then its glowing red eyes locked onto her, and Agnès froze.

The creature slowly made its way over to her, its massive boots causing minor tremors in the earth with each step. As it got closer the armored figure sheathed its massive sword. Agnès saw that the golem's once pristine white armor stained with blood, like the dreaded Red Knight from the the tales of old. At some level she knew that the creature standing before her was sentient and not some mere golem or automaton; no magically summoned golem could be so violently precise or so elegantly cruel. Maybe it was like Lt. Gordon, a man wearing armor. After a long while, the creature knelt down in front of her, to inspect her broken leg. It's teardrop-shaped glowing eyes regarded her without emotion, and she saw more steam issue from the snarling grille like a dragon's breath.

**"****You're hurt, girl."**

She had to bit down a whimper of pain as it took her leg in its heavy gauntlets to examine her leg more closely. She was surprised that, as large and heavy as they were the fingers were deft and nimble as it turned her leg over. It then gently set her leg down, then the creature brought its gauntleted hands to either side of its helm.

Now at least I will know if my savior is an angel or a demon, Agnès thought to herself.

There was a hiss like air escaping from a tea kettle as steam spouted from either side, and then the helm lifted free, revealing a shaved head of someone that was nominally human, although his features were abnormally large. As her eyes focused Agnès took in the patrician features and the grey eyes, and suddenly it clicked. She remembered him as the Romalian priest Nathaniel Garro, from Pope Vittorio's court! The man spoke to her in a soft baritone voice.

"Your leg is broken in several places, and it must be set."

Agnès watched as the large man opened a small box on his armored vambrace and pulled out a large tube-like device that ended in a wickedly long needle. The grey eyes flicked towards her.

"You must be brave, girl, and brace yourself. This will hurt."

Then without warning he plunged the needle into her thigh, and she screamed in pain, but as the pain ebbed away as painkillers flooded her system and she mercifully lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>Agnès was back in Hell, again on the endless battlefield. This time it was a ruined city choked with sand, ruined equipment and corpses desiccated like mummies. In the distance she could see tall spires glittering in the hellish red light, while soldiers, dressed like Alex and his Outworlder companions ran to where she was seated. There was some sort of improvised sandbag emplacement, the soldiers raised their weapons and fired wildly into the swirling sand. One of them shouted into his radio.<p>

"They're coming in through the underpass! Don't let them through!"

The soldiers continued firing, but one by one they were picked off, by some unseen terror. Agnès raised her head to peer over the sandbags, and saw the soldier's killer. A man, wearing tattered armor and covered in burn scars, callously fired shot after shot, each bullet killed another soldier. No matter how many times hits the killer took, he refused to die, and just kept staggering forward. He threw a grenade at three soldiers taking cover behind a column, and they were reduced to chunks of meat by the explosive fragments. The killer rasped.

"Got the fucker!"

Something seemed familiar about the man's face, his voice, even the way he walked, but at the calloused cruelty Agnès let out a gasp and tried to cover her mouth. Too late, the man's head pivoted to her direction. Quickly she ducked into cover, and waited. After a long while, she felt the danger had passed, and she raised her head again, only to have something hit her face. The killer was merely waiting for her as he vaulted over the emplacement, his boot hitting her in the face and knocking her to the ground.

Dazed, Agnès lay on her back, her weapon out of reach as her would-be killer stood over her. He glared down at her and brought the butt of his rifle up.

"Rot in hell, bitch!" the man rasped.

Time froze as she stared at her killer's face. Agnès saw it, through all the scars and blood, through the hatred in the ice-blue eyes of her killer she recognized the man. It was Alex! The butt of the rifle came down to smash her face as she screamed out her lover's name.

"Alex, NOOOOOO!"

Agnès sat up in bed suddenly, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. For a moment she reached over to where Alex was sleeping, only to find the bed empty. It was then that she became aware of her surroundings. She was not in her spartan bed back at the barracks, nor the hay loft that served as her sleeping quarters at Dunkerque. This bed was an elaborate four posted affair like what nobles would sleep in. As she blinked away the sleep in her eyes she realized just how massive the bed was, she could have laid across the bed and her feet still would not come close to the edge.

It must have been meant for a giant, and for a moment she felt like a child sleeping in her parent's bed. Agnès' gaze turned towards the room, it was decorated elegantly but simply with small bric-a-brac. She took in brightly colored frescoes painted on the whitewashed stucco walls, the leaded windows that were opened and the delicate lace curtains that swooshing gently with the morning breeze.

Finally she looked down at herself. She was out of her armor, and instead was wearing a thin cotton nightgown with a slitted hem. She threw aside the covers and pulled up the hem of her gown, looking down at her legs. A cautious probe of her leg seemed to indicate that her broken bones had miraculously knitted back together, while the burn on her thigh was bound in a white linen bandage.

She heard a door creak open, and Agnès quickly looked over to see a young girl with tanned skin and dark hair enter bearing a tray of food. The servant girl set the tray down on the edge of the bed and smiled at Agnes.

"Ah, you are awake, good!"

The girl's accent wasn't Tristainian or Gallian, but Agnès couldn't place it.

"Where am I?"

The girl gave a formal curtsey.

"My apologies, Knight-Commander Agnès de Milan. You are in the Palazzo Castel di Gandolfo, a guest of his Eminence Cardinal Garro."

Suddenly it all made sense to Agnès. The Castle Gandolfo was Pope Vittorio's summer residence which resided on the border of Tristain. The castle was one of many embassies that Romalia established, one in each of the kingdoms of Helkeginia, and was evidence of the clout that the Holy Romalian Empire had on the countries. They also served as a sanctuary against enemies. She looked back up at the servant.

"But the War! How far have Gallia and the Reconquista pushed into Tristain?"

The girl shook her head.

"The war is over, Knight-Commander."

Agnès's eyes widened.

"But how?"

The servant lowered her head, unresponsive. But there was another voice, a deep baritone voice that Agnès recognized, who spoke.

"I believe I can answer that, Knight-Commander."

The knight looked up and saw the Romalian envoy standing in the doorway, wearing the resplendent vestments of a cardinal in the court of Vittorio. The female knight suddenly realized she wasn't decent and blushed, quickly covered herself with the duvet. Cardinal Garro bowed his head.

"I beg your pardon for the lack of decorum, but time was of the essence."

The recollection of a large armored creature came rushing back to her.

"B-but that creature, the creature in armor…that was you?

The cardinal smiled, and walked over to a large armoire on the far end of the room. He opened it, and revealed a set of white armor, edged in emerald green. For the first time Agnès noticed the livery on the armor, a golden double-headed eagle decorated the breastplate, surrounded by golden filigree as intricate as any fine jewelry. There was an iron skull surrounded by a spiked ring on one of the large shoulder pads. The Romalian numeral VII decorated the other pauldron.

"As I indicated to Sergeant Crosby, once I was a soldier, a warrior like him."

He picked up a weapon that looked like a much larger version of the Outworlder's guns.

"This bolter was my weapon, and this armor was my shield. For three long years I had put them away, never thinking I would have to use them again. Then, fate forced my hand. I had heard of King Jozef's perfidy, and traveled as fast as I could to warn you. Alas, I came too late."

The blonde knight looked at the cardinal incredulously.

"B-but what of the others?"

He lowered his eyes.

"There were no survivors at Dunkerque. Jozef saw to that, he ordered the death of every man, woman, child and wounded prisoner, to send a message to Princess Henrietta."

He nodded to her.

"Your wounds immobilized you and meant that you would not survive the journey to Romalia, so I obtained dispensation to take you to the Castel Gandolfo to allow you to recuperate while I traveled to Tristainia to warn Princess Henrietta. At the time the Reconquista seemed poised to take over Tristain, and if that happened then this place would be your sanctuary."

Agnès shook her head emphatically.

"I must get back to Tristainia! I-I'm afraid for my beloved Alex..."

She lowered her eyes and blushed lightly.

"I-in many ways even though he and I are close to the same age, he is still just a boy, and I worry about him."

Then she looked back up at the Cardinal, consternation in her eyes.

"And what if he thinks I'm dead?"

She tried to get out of bed, but was gently pushed back by the servant girl.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Knight-Commander. You must stay and regain your strength, for though the Reconquista's army has been halted, the countryside is still not safe to travel unaccompanied."

He turned to leave.

"As it is I have pressing business to attend to, but I will return in a fortnight's time."

He gestured to the still-genuflecting servant girl.

"Consider yourself a guest of Romalia. Bella here will tend to your every need and my Swiss Guards will ensure your safety."

Agnès sat up again, leaning forward and pleading with her voice and eyes.

"Please, your Eminence, then take me with you! I must get back to Tristainia, I beg of you!"

The cardinal was silent for a long time, and finally he shook his head.

"Three years ago an Astartes such as myself could never be moved by such trite things like weeping girls."

Garro sighed.

"Yet another side-effect to my tenure here."

He turned to Bella the servant girl.

"Prepare the Knight-Commander for travel, bring a trunk with spare clothing for her as well, and have it ready within the hour. When she is ready come find me."

Bella bowed again.

"As you wish, your Eminence!"

Garro regarded Agnès, and his grey eyes hardened.

"I will see that you make it safely to Tristain, girl. But you must follow my ever order, as your life may depend on it."

_(AN: So we finally get to see Garro go all Speess Mahreen on the Gallians...and we know now what happened to Agnès. Next chapter will shift back to the after-effects of the Willy Pete, aptly titled The Horror. Should have it up by next week. Until then!)_


	154. Is Lutèce Burning?

_(AN: So, now the Reconquista has been effectively destroyed, her Gallian allies utterly defeated, it means the War should be over, and everybody lives happily ever after, right? Right? Well, we still have to deal with the after-effects of war, so don't be looking for a carriage ride into the sunset any time soon, not to mention that there's at least one Reconquista __co-conspirator who still have not resurfaced. _

_And I know the last chapter disappointed some of the grimdark lovers for sparing Agnès, but believe it or not that was planned all along, mood whiplash works both ways, FWIW. If you, as the readers, really wanted __Agnès__ to stay dead and for Alex to become a shell of himself as he slowly jumps off the slippery slope and becomes not so different from his older brother Martin Walker, then you can blame the Weaver for interceding and turning on the waterworks to her boss. As for using Garro as a Deux Ex Machina, that was the whole reason for having him in the story, I needed some uber-buffed up character to rescue __Agnès__ from hoards of enemy soldiers, and a Space Marine fits the bill. In the WH40K fluff there's not one story told that doesn't allude to the fact that a fully kitted out Speesss Mahreen can lay waste to a human army, and that's with 40K tech, not late 19th/early 20th century tech. My apologies to the WH40K enthusiasts for any and all inaccuracies, you may safely chalk it up to a Wizard Did It._

_Finally, someone alluded to me using the Bridge chapter in SO:TL as a Hell analog for the FOZ characters, and if you look at it from the Damned 33rd's perspective in Dubai I think that's an accurate statement. __And although it pains me to say this I'm afraid it's unavoidable; Michelle was the one who was mercy-killed by Sir John in CH152, that's not to say that there may be other survivors who tell of the horrors, but realistically someone who survives that treatment would be a husk anyways and wouldn't contribute much to the story beyond the 'war is hell' and she'd probably eat her gun anyways. _

_Every aspect of this 'Wily Pete arc' was sketched out very early in the story concept, way back when this was called 'Familiar of ZeroXSpec Ops: The Line'. There are other twists that will happen and will doubtlessly cause more heads to shake, and diction to froth, but such is the nature of this story. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate any and all input to this story, but, just like in the game we have to keep moving forward. Quod scripsi, scripsi._

* * *

><p>"Multiple contacts below! C'mon sarge, let's get moving!"<p>

SSG Forbes opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize he was back. The ruined two-story atrium, chocked with sand as beams of sunlight shone through the holes in the broken skylights, the T-Rex skeleton, sand everywhere, he was back in Dubai, at Checkpoint Charlie. Again.

It happened so much that for a while Forbes wondered if the weird world of magical girls with large eyes was the dream, and this was reality. It felt real enough. Suddenly PVT Davis hollered and jolted the sergeant from his reverie.

"Alright I'm going down, cover my six! Last one to the bottom's a rotten egg!"

With that the private threw one leg over the railing and zip-lined to the bottom. A sense of dread overtook Forbes as he slowly shouldered his weapon and grasped the wire. This had happened often enough, Forbes knew what was waiting for him at ground floor, and the part that he dreaded the most was that this would play out exactly the same as all the other times. Quickly he leaped over the railing and felt weightless as the ground came up quickly. Through the haze of sand kicked up by PVT Davis' flashbang, he saw a human form take shape. It was the enemy officer, Forbes knew what was going to happen next, but couldn't stop himself.

Forbes kicked out, and the mutinous 33rd soldier fell to the ground. Like in a dream Forbes crawled over and pulled the enemy soldier over onto his back. Like before, the sergeant knew who the enemy soldier was. This time, he didn't even have his balaclava on. Forbes saw his friend and fellow NCO, SSG Norris, glaring back up at him with accusing eyes.

"You betrayed us, Forbes!"

Slowly Forbes shook his head.

"No, you did. You sided with Long..."

"Konrad left us no choice!"

"There's always a choice..."

Forbes was done talking, he raised his M4 up like a club, wanting to stop his actions, and knowing he couldn't. Quickly he brought down his weapon, but it stopped mid-swing, never to connect with Norris' face. A large wooden stave, shaped like a shepherd's crook, stopped the M4. Forbes was shocked, and he looked off to the side. Holding the staff, in this sand-ridden battlefield, sat a young waif with blue hair and glasses. Her large eyes shimmered as she shook her head and said one word.

"Don't."

The sergeant froze, and looked back down. This time it wasn't SSG Norris that Forbes had pinned to the ground and was ready to club his brains out, it was a mirror image of Forbes himself. Suddenly it all connected, and he realized the truth. The sergeant lowered his eyes, dropped his weapon, and wept. As the tears streamed down his unshaven cheek, he felt a small hand stroke his head, and his shaved scalped was tickled by soft hair and an even softer cheek. He heard Tabitha whisper in his ear as she leaned in.

"Will help."

He woke up with tears still in his eyes, and he looked to his right. Tabitha was still asleep, but she had rested her head on his, nestling on his shoulder. Forbes looked off to the left and saw that Illococoo was awake, perched on top of the bed covers, her hands clasped and her blue eyes shimmering at him. The dragon-girl cocked her head to one side.

"Poor Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes! Did you have another nightmare about the sandy place?"

All the sergeant could do was nod as he blinked the tears out of his eyes. Illococoo slid under the covers and sidled up to him in bed. She leaned in and gave him a small peck on the cheek, and whispered in his ear.

"There, there, now you can go back to sleep! Me and Big Sis will make sure the meanie demons don't come back and give you nightmares, 'kay?"

It was almost too much, but Forbes reached out and caressed the dragon-girl's cheek and settled back with his head against the pillow. As he drifted off he heard Tabitha sigh in her sleep, and she placed an arm protectively against the sergeant's chest.

* * *

><p><strong>(T+8 Hours, 45 minutes post Operation Righteous Fury, Tristainia Palace, 0845 hrs local time)<strong>

Princess Henrietta slowly descended the stairs from the palace to the main courtyard, flanked by two Royal Guards. In the distance she could see the Outworlder's airship, the Black-Hawke, with several of the soldiers working around it. She perked up as she saw who was at the foot of the steps. Colonel Konrad, wearing his dress uniform and a pistol belt stood at attention. As she reached the bottom she made eye contact and gave the colonel her friendliest smiled. He did return it, although she could tell there was a certain melancholia behind it.

It baffled Henrietta as to why Konrad was not sharing her jubilant mood; their sworn enemies the Reconquista and Gallia were utterly defeated and were suing for peace, and yet her commander and sometimes confidant looked as if he were going to a funeral. She looked up again at Konrad as he walked beside her.

"Is everything alright, John?"

Konrad looked down at the princess, and gave another smile, this one a bit more genuine.

"Yes, yes of course. Everything is in readiness."

He nodded to SSG Forbes, who stood at attention and slide open the Black Hawk's rear passenger hatch. The Royal Guards stepped in first, followed by Konrad, who helped the princess into the craft. The two guards took a seat on the bench opposite Konrad, leaving room between them for the princess, but Henrietta instead sat next to the colonel. Konrad took one of the headsets and spoke to the pilot.

"Lt. Bowles, are we ready to get underway?"

The pilot responded.

_"Just about, sir. We're waiting on a coupla stragglers."_

* * *

><p>Back in the barracks PFC Walker ignored his radio squawking, and buried his face in the pillow on his cot. He couldn't understand why he felt so crappy. After the colossal curb-stomping they gave to the Reconquista courtesy of Willy Pete, Alex thought that it would bring an end to the pain. It hadn't, the emptiness was still there, the hurting, and the longing. Even if the entire Reconquista burned, it didn't change the fact that Agnès was still dead. All the dead Reconquista and Gallian soldiers wouldn't bring her back, now Alex knew that. He heard a voice speak up.<p>

"Everything okay, Alex?"

The private looked up to see Sgt. Crosby crouched beside him. Alex quickly wiped away some tears.

"S'okay, sarge. Just feeling a bit under the weather. Think I can sit out this sortie?"

Crosby nodded, but the private knew that the Zulu Squad sergeant saw right through his lie.

"Roger that private. Get some rest, I'll call it in to the colonel."

His radio crackled to life.

_"Iceman this is Bravo Zero-One, 'port in."_

"This is Iceman, I am inbound ETA five Mikes. Be advised Private Walker will not be present."

_"Roger that, will relay to Actual. We'll need another swinging dick on the deck for this one, so see if you can't drag Forbes out of bed. Just don't wake up his harem."_

Crosby chuckled at that quip.

"Roger that."

_"One last thing, Crosby...Ah, be advised the meter's running and the old man's getting impatient so don't take too long."_

* * *

><p><strong>(T+9 Hours, 25 minutes post Operation Righteous Fury, approximately 3 km South of Dunkerque, 0925 hours local time)<strong>

King Jozef of Gallia was seated at his desk, in stunned silence. Both he and Sheffield had escaped the conflagration that had consumed Dunkerque and the invasion force, and now he was faced with the decisions made. Like Sheffield, Jozef had to acquiesce to the Outworlder's demands of surrender, lest his own home city be destroyed in the same way.

Strange, how fickle Fate is. Yesterday King Jozef was the one in complete control, only yesterday he felt like he held all the cards, and he would finally defeat the Outworlders and humiliate that arrogant royal Tristainain brat once and for all. Now, he had nothing; no army, no fortress, nothing to do but to wait to be taken into custody. But worse of all, after everything he did, after all his careful scheming, he still felt nothing. He looked over to the leader of teh Reconquista, and saw that Sheffield's face betrayed no emotion, but he knew she was in the same predicament.

At least she can feel, a thought surfaced to Jozef's mind.

One of his guards, a dirty turncoat Albion noble missing an eye, pulled open the flap to his tent.

"Jozef," the monarch gritted his teeth at the lack of decorum from the noble, "General Konrad approaches."

With that both flaps opened, and the leader of the Outworlders stepped in. Behind him was the same stern-faced soldier in black and white armor. Konrad gave the two captive leaders a friendly smile.

"Well, good morning to the both of you. And how are you this morning?"

When there was no response, Konrad continued.

"You know, in one way you were quite correct about your last threat."

Finally Sheffield spoke up.

"What was that?"

"..You said that we would be meeting in person very soon. And here we are..."

Konrad then reached into a large pocket on his blouse and pulled out two scrolls, unfurled them and place one in front of each leader.

"These, as you may recall, are the terms of surrender. Your respective countries will unconditionally surrender to Tristain, and have forfeited any right of sovereignty. The surviving troops will be spared, providing they lay down their weapons. Finally, you both will be taken into custody and face trial for your war crimes. Do you understand?"

King Jozef slowly nodded. Sheffield still hadn't responded, either out of shock or defiance. Konrad slammed his palm down onto the desk, causing her to jump.

"I said, do you understand, Lady Sheffield?"

She looked up at the colonel with frightened eyes, and gave a small nod. Konrad stood back.

"Very well, then you will each sign this surrender to acknowledge your acquiescence."

He set a inkpot and quill in front of the two leaders. For a long time Jozef stared at the quill, but finally the king reached out and took it, then signed the scroll. He then passed it over to Sheffield, who after a long while signed her own name. Konrad took the terms of surrender, rolled them back up and handed it off to a Sharpshooter guard.

"Take this to her Highness Princess Henrietta immediately."

He looked back to the two defeated leaders.

"Lady Sheffield, King Jozef, before I remand you into custody there is something I want you to see."

He gestured for Crosby to follow.

"Get Forbes and Lugo here, I will need a prisoner escort detail."

* * *

><p>King Jozef was outwardly calm, and knew he should be seething, yet as before he still felt nothing. Here he was, a king, from a long line of Gallian royalty, being manhandled like a commoner, and to add insult to injury his guard was the Outworlder called Lugo, the one who murdered his friend Count Mott. When he was assigned to Lugo briefly he thought that this might be the instant where he would feel some emotion, be it impotent rage or humiliation. But, it was not to be; he felt neither anger nor the humiliation that any royalty would feel at such treatment. His own thoughts were interrupted as he was roughly shoved.<p>

"C'mon King Bluebeard! We're burning daylight!"

Sgt. Lugo, on the other hand, was enjoying himself more than he probably should have been. The irony of being the guard to the uptight king that imprisoned him and Crosby at Tabitha's estate in Gallia was too rich for the young sniper. The Delta Force operator adjusted his ballcap and glanced over to Forbes, who was escorting Sheffield.

"Hey Grunt! Is Crazy Purple People Eater Bitch giving you any guff?"

Forbes shrugged.

"Naw, she's pretty tame compared to your charge, Delta Boy."

Their chatter was cut short by Crosby snapping over his shoulder.

"Eighty-six the chit-chat, focus on the mission!"

Forbes immediately clammed up, Lugo smirked.

"Yes, mother."

But any banter came to an immediate end as Konrad came to a stop, and the three soldiers and their two captives saw why as soon as they crested the hill's peak. The hill overlooked the Meuse Valley, off to the left was the Gévaudan Forest, in the distance the ruins of Dunkerque still smoldered. And in the valley proper was the burning remnants of the Reconquista invasion camp. Everyone, soldier and captive alike, was speechless at the sight of widespread destruction. Konrad gazed at the carnage and the burning wreckage, then shook his head.

"No matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the legacy of what happened back in my world."

He smiled ruefully at the two captives.

"That was my downfall. I thought that even with a fresh start here in Helkeginia I could escape my demons, but alas, that was not to be."

Konrad's smile vanished, replaced with a hard glare when his eyes met the two leaders.

"...You both saw to that."

He spoke the honorific in a mocking tone, as he gestured towards the ruins of Dunkerque.

"Go on, your Majesty, my Lady. Take a look."

Lugo and Forbes let go of their arms, and both the leader of the Reconquista, and the Gallian monarch stepped forward and stared at the destruction. Konrad spoke again.

"Tell me, what you think?"

Jozef lowered his head, and said nothing. Sheffield was horrified by the sight, and finally broke the silence.

"You did this."

Konrad shook his head.

"No, you did. Your orders saw the deaths of ten thousand innocent civilians and the surviving Sharpshooter Corps."

He looked back to Jozef, who was still in silence.

"No snide comment from you, your Majesty?"

The colonel mockingly tutted the king.

"Really, King Jozef, I expected better of you. I thought a bloodthirsty tyrant like you would approve of my handiwork."

The Gallian monarch still said nothing. Inwardly, Jozef wished he could feel the same horror as Sheffield, or revulsion, or the pain of loss. Even anger at Konrad's obvious disrespect. But, even confronted with such carnage, he still felt nothing. Vaguely he heard Sheffield babble rapidly.

"No, no! This-this was too much...Far too barbaric! We-we did that to send a message to Henrietta-we didn't have the resources to hold them...we had no choice..."

Konrad glared at the Reconquista leader.

"There always is a choice! You could have let the civilians flee, or taken some prisoner. Instead you massacred them."

He turned to leave.

"Before I send you to prison, there is something more."

The colonel pointed to the ruins.

"I want you to see this, up close and personal. I want you both to see what your hubris reaped."

Jozef saw the terror on Sheffield's face, but for him, he saw it as an opportunity. Maybe if I saw the carnage in person, I will feel something, he thought. Konrad continued to speak.

"Understand, that this...Dragon's Fire, as you call it, we could have used it at the Battle for Tristainia. But, we chose chivalry over damnation. And look where it got us."

Sheffield stopped in her tracks as she parsed the information.

"Wait a moment! Y-you mean to tell me that this Dragon's Fire was in your possession all along?"

Konrad nodded.

"Ever since the first invasion of the Reconquista. But we held back, we felt the weapon was too horrible to use in this world."

He lowered his eyes.

"In that regard I am partly to blame for this. If I had authorized using it then instead of now, more lives would have been saved."

Konrad's radio squawked as Lt. Bowles' voice came through the static.

_"Bravo Actual, this is Bravo Zero One, how copy?" _

Konrad irritably removed the radio from his pocket.

"This is Bravo Actual, and you'd better have a damned good reason for interrupting, Lieutenant."

_"Ah, understood, sir, but this can't wait. Be advised, HVP is inbound, eta five mikes."_

The colonel cursed. 'HVP' was a euphemism for Princess Henrietta. He spoke into his radio.

"Lieutenant, I thought I made myself clear: HVP was to remain at camp, and you were to ensure that arrangement stuck. What part of those orders were not clear?"

There was a pause, and Bowles actually sounded sheepish.

_"Ah, yes sir you were crystal clear on those orders but unfortunately for us HVP isn't real keen on following orders, sir. The...HVP can also be very...persuasive, sir."_

He sighed.

"Understood. Bravo Actual out."

He turned to Crosby.

"Sergeant, I am placing the prisoners in your custody. Have them see the ruins of Dunkerque, then report back to me at camp. We are to remand them into custody of the Sharpshooters and see to it that they are taken to the prisons in the palace, pending their trial."

Crosby saluted.

"Roger that, sir!"

* * *

><p><strong>(ten minutes later)<strong>

Sgt. Crosby had his skull balaclava up, as did Lugo and Forbes. They had given scarves to their prisoners, as the air in the ruins of Dunkerque were still toxic from the residual white phosphorus smoke. It was eerily silent in the still smoldering Reconquista camp, now and then they would see medics scurrying back and forth in the haze, dragging the dead and dying out. Crosby looked back at their captives. It was normally hard to read expressions when half your face was covered, but in this case the stunned horror was easy to spot, at least on Sheffield. The king of Gallia showed about as much emotion as a marble statue. Jozef would make a great poker player, Crosby thought, then some movement caught his eye, and he raised a clenched fist.

A lone figure was kneeling next to another dying casualty, this one was missing arms and mewling in pain. The figure looked up and Crosby, and slowly stood up. He removed a filthy scarf and revealed the face of the Albionian noble to escorted Crosby before the attack. Gone were the confident, easy manners of Sir John of Essex, the man's eyes were bloodshot and had the thousand yard stare that Crosby and the 33rd knew all too well.

It was then that the sergeant saw that the noble was burned, one side of his face was an angry red landscape of partially healed second and third degree burns. Sir John smiled, or at least tried. His scarred face made the smile seem like a grimace as he looked back down at the dying man.

"He won't last long, but at least his suffering will be at an end."

He looked back up at Crosby.

"You were right, Sir Crosby. The Reconquista was foolish to call Konrad's bluff, had we but known..."

Crosby placed a gloved hand on Sir John's shoulder.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Sir John."

The noble shook his head.

"No, this was terrible, but necessary. And we brought this on ourselves. What we did...to Dunkerque, what we did to the survivors, was wrong."

He shuddered.

"It was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyways, as did my men. I rationalized it, on the grounds that we were following orders and we were to follow them without question, that was the way of the Reconquista. But I should have stopped, before all of this...madness I was a Knight Errant in the court of King James. I was taught from my time as a squire the importance of honor and duty, and that the former should never acquiesce to the latter."

He and Crosby looked back down at the wounded man, and motioned the sergeant down.

"This one did have something tell you, Sir Crosby."

Crosby knelt down and got a closer look at the dying man, by his armor he judged he was an archer. The man's face was practically burned off, where there was skin it was a burnt, puckered mess. One eye was still intact, and it pivoted and focused on the sergeant. The burnt skin around his face cracked as his lips formed a single word.

"Why?"

Crosby shook his head. What could he say? Sorry, your ruler was an egotistical prick who had no idea what 21st century ordnance could do to a medieval army? Oh, you were born in a kingdom ruled by a fucktard in an era that believes in honor before reason, so sorry, now we're going to condemn you to a slow, agonizing death of being burned, extra crispy, thank you very much for being a blip on our kill-screen, please pay at the second window.

He looked back at to Lugo and Forbes, who were probably thinking the same thing he was. He could see that Sheffield was broken by the display. Jozef was different, whereas Sheffield kept averting her eyes to the destruction, the king of Gallia took in every detail possible. But he still showed no emotion, which frankly shocked the hell out of Crosby. The sergeant looked back down at the dying man, and leaned in to speak to him. Crosby doubted the man could hear what he was saying, but for some reason he felt the need to speak, as if to justify their actions.

"War is Hell."

* * *

><p>Princess Henrietta dropped the binoculars and covered her mouth in horror. She gazed out at the burning Reconquista camp, and the ruins of Dunkerque. Konrad stood by her side, his gaze lowered.<p>

"No you know the truth, Henrietta."

Tears streamed down princess's cheek as she stared out in horror at the widespread destruction.

"T-this? All this was done by the Dragon's Fire?"

Konrad nodded his head, still unable to look at the princess.

"Yes. Now you know why we were so hesitant to use it."

It was too much for her, the princess collapsed, but her fall was arrested by her two Guards, who held her. Konrad still had his back to her, and listened to her weeping softly. Then he saw Forbes, Lugo and Crosby approach with their prisoners in tow.

"If you will excuse me..."

Without waiting for a response, Konrad left Princess Henrietta, still crying.

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristainia Palace, 14:00 hrs local time)<strong>

Konrad was back at his desk, writing an AAR for the last operation. After hearing from Crosby he had left the escorting of the prisoners to the other soldiers, and had ordered Lt. Bowles to transport him back to the palace right away. Konrad knew at some level he would have to face the truth, that was the real reason he left in such a hurry. Once back at the palace he cloistered himself in the barracks, barring entry for anyone outside of the 33rd. As he finished writing the last sentence on his report, he heard a door open. He looked up from his desk to see a Royal Guard approach. She gave a low bow.

"Lord General Konrad, my apologies for encroaching."

The colonel set down his quill and rubbed his eyes.

"No apology necessary. What is your report?"

She stood at attention.

"My Lord, I am pleased to report that with the help of Sir Crosby and the others we have successfully secured the prisoners in the lower dungeon!"

The colonel nodded.

"Good. Be sure to post extra guards in that cellblock. I don't want them escaping like the Thief Fouquet did."

The Guard gave another bow, but then remain, fidgeting with her cloak, and clearly apprehensive. Konrad raised an eyebrow.

"What's the trouble?"

She looked up.

"Um, sir...the princess, she-she was asking for you."

He sighed. This was the reason he left, to delay this confrontation. He closed his eyes and spoke.

"What sort of state was the princess in when she asked for me?"

The Guard shifted uncomfortably in her armor.

"Princess Henrietta was...in an extreme emotional state when I left her, sir."

Konrad shook his head.

"Given what she saw, I'm not surprised."

He stood up.

"Very well, lead the way."

When they reached the door to the princess's chambers, both Royal Guards parted ways automatically. Konrad's escort paused and knocked on the door. When there was no response, she called out.

"Princess Henrietta, Lord General Konrad is here, as you requested!"

The Guard leaned in, and Konrad heard something being said, but couldn't make it out. The Royal Guard looked over to him and nodded. Filled with dread, the colonel walked forward into the open door and the subsequent darkness. All of the shutters and blinds were drawn, so that the chamber was as dark as night. A solitary source of light came from a dying fire and a single candle. Princess Henrietta was seated at the chair by the fireplace, and was still weeping softly. She briefly looked up and spoke.

"You came, John."

Konrad nodded as he stepped forward.

"I did. I felt like I owed you an explanation, now that you've seen the horrors our advanced weapons inflict. You see, in our world those weapons commonplace, and we justify using them because the enemies we face will do equally terrible things to us."

He stared at the embers in the fireplace.

"In our world, there's a line...a line that men like us have to cross, and if we're lucky, we do what's necessary and die in the process."

He held out his hands to Henrietta.

"All that death, all that suffering, that was at my hands. The same hand that you requested in marriage. When you look up to me you see a soldier, a noble warrior who inspires his mean to do great things. When I look in the mirror I see a monster who was forced to commit atrocities."

That caught Henrietta's attention, and she looked up. Slowly the princess stood up and walked over, as if in a trance, until she stood in front of Konrad. Then without warning, she raised her hand, and there was a loud _slap!_ as her tiny palm impacted on Colonel Konrad's cheek. Of all the war wounds the old soldier had suffered, nothing, nothing in the world compared to the pain of being on the receiving end of a slap from a wronged woman.

Still shocked by the slap, Konrad slowly reached up with his hand to touch the red welt, which resembled a small hand-print, on his cheek. He looked down to see Henrietta's hand still raised from the follow-through of her slap, her eyes closed and she trembled as tears streamed down her cheek.

"John...you idiot...stop it!"

The princess opened her eyes furiously.

"John, you are such an idiot! I know I'm just a girl, and only a fraction of your age, but you are an idiot to think me naïve or stupid!"

She reached up and took Konrad's chin as he tried to look away.

"Please don't look away at me, I need to see you, John! I need to tell you this, and you need to hear it!"

Henrietta wiped away another tear.

"John...I knew that you were hesitant to use the weapon, you told me of its destructive power back before the Reconquista invaded my country..."

Her eyes softened as she released his chin, and caressed his cheek.

"The truth is, as terrible this Dragon's Fire was it saved many lives, ensured the safety of my subjects, and ended what would have been a long and bloody war."

She took one of his hands in her much smaller hands.

"I-I know you're suffering, and I know how difficult it was to use the weapon, but you're a fool to keep retreating into your stoicism...you can't keep using your past demons as barriers between us."

Henrietta leaned closer.

"If you would just let me in, I can help you! Let me do this for you, please John!"

When Konrad didn't respond, she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it.

"To answer your question, John Konrad, I still love you, now more so then ever before knowing what you were willing to sacrifice to ensure the safety of my kingdom."

She closed her eyes, but was surprised when she felt arms wrapping themselves around him. She overcame her shock, and gave a small small as she returned Konrad's embrace. She felt tremors in the arms that held her, and the princess did not see him cry, nor did she see a tear fall from the colonel's cheek and land on her cloak, as the stoic façade of John Konrad crumbled.

_(AN: Well, there's a nice little emotional gutpunch. This took forever to write, fortunately, as with the last chapter I've been pecking away at it for the last few months. Well, now the Reconquista is routed, but at a terrible price; for now the 33rd will have to face their demons in their Crucible. Here's hoping they make it through, otherwise they'll earn their nicknamed the 'Damned 33rd.'_

_This arc was exhausting on a physical and emotional level, the slight pushback from the last chapter didn't help much either. I'm going to take a couple of weeks off, next week I have a trade show to attend in Las Vegas, and afterward I'm taking an extra few days to recuperate. Next chapter should be up 1st week of February, but it might take a bit longer, depending on the creative juices. Until then!)_


	155. Rerum Novarum

_(AN: The last chapter was a real doozie to write, and the revelation that King Jozef wasn't some bloodthirsty tyrant is was a nice plot twist, but believe it or not it's part of the FOZ canon. Because of Jozef's unique Void capabilities he has a 'Void' in his heart and can feel nothing. That was the whole reason for the capture of Tabitha, Lugo and Crosby; it, not revenge was the reason for his invasion of Tristain. He wanted to feel something, anything, and would go to any lengths to find it. This doesn't excuse his actions but, like any of the 'antagonists' in SO:TL, it makes him less of a villain and more of a tragic figure._

_WRT interactions with Henrietta and the colonel, it was necessary to demonstrate that she is more than just a figurehead, she understands Konrad's pain because she knows what it's like. It's one of the reasons I paired them off early on, because of all the characters in the FOZ universe, only Henrietta comes close to understanding what Konrad had to go through in Dubai. It was still difficult writing Konrad's dialog imagining Bruce Boxleitner's voice, although I'll admit Henrietta going all tsundere on him and calling the colonel 'baka' was also a hoot. Speaking of which..._

_*Scene opens to a spotlighted stage, and Mr. Handwaver walks on stage wearing his evening wear, trips on the last step and causes the microphone to fall down with a loud crash and a blare of feedback from the speakers. For a few minutes he clumsily tries to right the microphone stand, only to have a stage hand walk on stage and set it right. Having regained his composure, Mr. Handwaver pulls out a small cue card and speaks up in an posh RP-accented voice._

_"Even though we have covered this already in Chapter 35, this re-handwave is to re-emphasize that the various female denizens of this world who are paired off with or 'shipped' as it is colloquially known as, are of age. This of course includes, but is not limited to, Siesta, her cousin Jessica, Wat'sername the 'blonde bird brandishing the blunderbuss whom we thought dead but was brought back to life through plot device', and of course, the Princess Henrietta. The dragon girl with the unpronounceable and sometimes unspellable name of Illococoo is, of course exempt from the handwave as she is, of course, a dragon."_

_*he lowers his cue card*  
><em>

_"Although, I can't say as I blame anyone for forgetting, at over 400 thousand words and 155 chapters this story's been meandering for quite a while, it's no wonder. Suffice it to say that this should have been re-handwaved at various intervals of this fic, and, on behalf of the Almighty Godlike Author Avatar, we apologize again for the confusion. Please note that the prior handwaver who should have done the re-handwaving has been sacked, and those responsible for sacking the people who have just been sacked have been sacked. "_

_**Get On With It!**_

_"Ahem, yes, so having re-handwaved this, we now proceed with the story, and now time for something completely different!"_

* * *

><p><strong>(T+ 14 hours, 15 minutes post Operation Righteous Fury, Tristain countryside approximately 35 km SE of Tristainia)<strong>

A sudden jolt caused Agnès to wake up with a start, and instinctively she drew her revolver. For a moment she forgot her surroundings, but then she realized she was still riding in a carriage. The baroque interior of the carriage was upholstered in soft brushed leather the exact shade of a cardinal's cloak, which contrasted with the polished teak wood paneling and brass fittings.

The plush cushioning had almost engulfed Agnès, and her feet dangled over the edge of the bench as if she were a child. Indeed, the seats and interior of the carriage seemed to be scaled to a giant. And, having seen the carriage's other occupant, a massive man in cardinal's robes seated opposite the chevailer, it was no wonder why. Garro looked up from a leatherbound tome he was reading, and a small smile played on his lips.

"It was just a pothole, Knight-Commander, I doubt shooting it will do any good."

Agnès looked down at her revolver, and blushed as she tucked it back into her sash.

"I-I...My apologies, your Eminence, the jolt awoke me."

The cardinal shrugged and put away the book.

"It is no worry. Considering what you have been through..."

Silence reigned over the interior, and the only sounds were the creaking of the carriage and the clattering of hooves. Finally Agnès broke the silence.

"Cardinal Garro...your Eminence...you never did tell me; how did they, the 33rd I mean, defeat the Reconquista? The enemy measured in the thousands..."

Garro nodded.

"Tens of thousands, Knight-Commander. It was estimated that there were over forty thousand Reconquista troops and their Gallian allies were in Tristain before the attack."

Agnès looked at him.

"H-how many are there now?"

Garro's patrician features hardened, and his grey eyes turned to flint.

"Less than a hundred, most of which are considered walking wounded. All the others were casualties or fatalities."

The chevalier let out a frightened squeak.

"B-But that's impossible! Even with the 33rd's more advanced weapons, it would take more firepower than is possible..."

"It would appear that the Outworlders had one more trick up their sleeve, and used a weapon so terrible that not even His Holiness could have predicted."

Garro closed his eyes.

"The locals already have a name for it; Dragon's Fire. An explosive that leaves an unquenchable fire that burns both dragons and men."

Then the shadow passed, he opened his eyes and a tired smiled crept across Garro's lips.

"The weapon, cruel as it was, was also very effective in eliminating the Reconquista threat. I would assume that King Jozef and Lady Sheffield will acquiesce to Tristain's terms of surrender."

He gestured to the Swiss Guards on the carriage's running boards.

"...Though there are still stragglers that have not yet surrendered, hence the danger."

Their conversation was interrupted the carriage lurching to a halt. The top hatch of the carriage opened and one of the Swiss Guards in his bright orange and blue striped livery appeared in the opening. He banged a leather studded fist against his breastplate. Garro raised an eyebrow.

"Why are we stopped?"

The guard bowed.

"My apologies, your Eminence. There is a considerable group of armed men blocking the road, and it appears that they are led by Don Chesaré."

The massive man stroked his chin.

"How many men?"

"About a dozen Gallian mercenaries, your Eminence."

A small smiled played on Garro's lips.

"Only twelve? That is insulting."

He glanced down to Agnès, who looked terrified.

"Sir, my runner confirmed that Don Chesaré requests an audience with you. Shall we engage them?"

The cardinal shook his head.

"No. I will deal with it."

He stood up and looked back at the frightened chevalier.

"You will remain here, my guards will ensure your safety."

Garro opened the carriage door and immediately the Swiss Guard standing on the running board saluted him.

"Guard, you will stay inside the carriage and keep the Knight-Commander safe, is that understood?"

The man banged his fist against his breastplate.

"With my life, your Eminence!"

The cardinal then looked up at the driver and gave him a slight nod, which the driver returned. He then turned to face Don Chesaré and his men. There were, in fact about twelve of them, and the martial part of Garro's brain began to evaluate the men as potential threats. They were armed with the repeating slug-throwers that these local humans were so proud of, but the Space Marine concluded that these Gallians were still pathetically outgunned, even for an unarmed and unarmored Astartes.

Garro approached Don Chesaré, and, in an odd display of power the cardinal gestured with his ring hand. After some hesitation, Julio genuflected and kissed the cardinal's ring, then stood, obviously seething.

"This seems to be a breach of protocol, Cardinal Garro! To have a man of the Church being met with armed guards and obvious hostility."

Garro glanced at the Gallian mercenaries he had in tow.

"I could say the same about you, Don Chesaré."

The young knight shrugged.

"These? Just some hired help to protect me, we are at war, after all."

Garro glanced at the Gallian mercenaries with undisguised contempt.

"You would have done better to spend your coin on bar wenches, at least they can be skilled at fending off the advances of knights."

He noted with amusement that the Gallians started murmuring hostilities at his insults, but they were silenced by a wave of the young knight's hand. He turned to Garro, who continued.

"Don Chesaré, I am pressed for time so I will get to the point. What is it you want, that you meet my carriage on an open road with armed dogs at your heel?"

Julio regained his composure and assumed a more polite air.

"Your Eminence, I am glad that I had not missed you, and I promise not to take up much of your time."

The young knight sighed.

"I had heard…rumors of the horrors that the Reconquista had inflicted upon Dunkerque. Such shameful business, if it is true."

"It is," Garro rumbled like an irritated tiger, "And the Gallians had their hands bloodied as well!"

Once again the leader of the mercenaries opened his mouth, but was silenced by a glare from the young knight, who continued.

"...But I had heard another rumor, one that a refugee had survived the massacre at Dunkerque, one who is in your care. Naturally I was checking to see if that was true. If it were, it would be a miracle of Brimir Himself."

The massive cleric narrowed his grey eyes.

"I must find where your spies are, Don Chesaré, and see to it that they are silenced. It is true, I have received a survivor, who is currently convalescing under my care."

Don Chesaré gave a beatific smile.

"So how is the girl? Is she well enough to-"

It was always a misconception that the Adeptus Astartes were slow as they were large, but Garro defied that. He lashed out with his hand and grabbed the young knight by his cloak, lifting him off the ground. He gave Don Chesaré an immolating glare and growled at him.

"Since when did you know the gender of my guest, Don Chesaré?"

Color left Julio's face, and his calm demeanor vanished as he quickly stammered out a reply.

"I-I heard reports from the Gallians that two Sharpshooters, and man and a woman, fled the fort shortly after it was overrun! I-I heard that only one of them survived to warn Tristainia."

The fire died down in Garro's eyes, and he slowly lowered the knight. Regaining some of his composure Don Chesaré smiled at the cardinal.

"With all due respect, your Eminence, you still haven't answered my question."

Garro looked back at his Swiss Guards, and made eye contact with the captain, who gave an imperceptible nod. He looked back and shrugged.

"No, I haven't. My guest is still recovering from grievous wounds, she is under guard and will not be receiving visitors until she has recovered."

He turned to leave.

"Now, if that is all, I must take my leave. Go, and take your heathen Gallian curs with you, Don Chesaré."

The leader finally stepped forward, drawing his flintlock revolver.

"S'Blood! I've had just about enough of your wagging tongue, priest! I've killed men for less, religious or not!"

The cardinal stopped and turned his gaze to the offending soldier. Julio felt that he held the upper hand, but he still couldn't shake the foreboding. In spite of the numbers he still felt like a mouse trapped in a cage with a giant predatory cat, rather than the other way around. Garro growled menacingly at Don Chesaré.

"I will give you only one warning. Go now, and I will let you go in peace and I will forget this little incident. If you persist, then His Holiness will hear of this; the Holy Romalian Empire does not take sides in any conflict, and you are violating your vows by associating with this gutless scum."

The Gallian leader cocked his pistol and sneered.

"Big words coming from an unarmed priest! There's twelve of us and only one of you, priest! What makes you so bold to make boasts?"

Garro smiled, and it was not a pleasant one.

"Yes, it is a bit of an unfair advantage, don't you think? Personally I find it insulting."

"What!?"

"That you only have a paltry dozen against me. To be any sort of challenge you should have at least brought twenty."

The Gallian mercenary leader was about to speak when Garro reacted. Once again, the Space Marine defied his size with a lighting quick attack. He lashed out with a fist the size of a shovel and it connected with the Gallian's face with the force of a boulder impacting. Nose cartilage flattened in and instant, and the hard bones surrounding his nasal passages and eye sockets buckled under the impact. All of the teeth on the front of his upper and lower jaw shattered, and the momentum sent the shards with such force that they embedded themselves in the back of the unfortunate mortal's throat. His head snapped back, and mercifully his agony was cut short by his second and third vertebrae breaking from the sheer force of the punch. All of this happened in the span of three seconds, the man crumbled to the ground lifeless.

The Gallian's companions stared in horror, and that was all the seconds Garro needed to act. He reached out and grabbed a nearby Gallian by his long-barreled rifle, tore it from his grasp and swung it like a club. The man's skull caved instantly, and he crumpled to the ground like a scarecrow. He spun quickly around and backhanded another mercenary, breaking the man's jaw and neck. There was a loud crack as a volley of shots were fired by his Swiss Guards, and three more Gallians fell. Garro seized another Gallian who had lunged at him with a bayonet, and twisted the unfortunate man's neck. The surviving mercenaries wisely dropped their weapons and fled.

Julio took in the carnage, then spun to face Garro. He knew better than to draw his wand or his sword, but he still sneered at the large man.

"You are very bold, to have your guards attack Gallian troops unprovoked!"

Garro shrugged.

"On the contrary, Don Chesaré, they are following my orders to protect precious cargo."

The young knight stared at the carriage, and suddenly it all clicked. But before he could react he felt a large hand grasp the back of his neck, and he was lifted up like a kitten. The strength in that hand was terrifying, the knight knew that it would take only a slight effort on Garro's part to crush his neck. Sweat beaded on Julio Chesare's forehead, and he recalled Garro's ominous warning and implied threat back in Romalia. He heard the cardinal's voice rumble threateningly.

"Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your treacherous life right now, Don Chesaré?"

The knight attempted nonchalance and smiled.

"Because, your Eminence, I am merely a victim of circumstantial evidence. Those men I hired were obviously incompetent, and lied about their devotion to Brimir and their prowess."

He felt massive hand constrict, and pain knifed through Julio''s neck as he heard Garro's voice continue.

"Your lies do not interest me, Don Chesaré. Tell me what your interest in the survivor is, and be quick about it, for the sands of your life are running out quickly."

Julio swallowed hard.

"Please, please your Eminence, I beg mercy! I-I just wanted to interview the survivor! I had dealings with King Jozef and he swore by Brimir's name that nothing bad happened at Dunkerque...I-If this survivor testifies otherwise then Romalia can charge Jozef with perjury and blasphemy...his Holiness Vittorio can excommunicate him, thereby ending his rule, and the war!"

There was a long pause, but finally the massive hand opened its grip, sending the young knight falling to the ground in a heap. Julio looked up indignantly at Garro.

"You still lie, Don Chesaré, but there is enough grains of truth to your lies to spare your life. For now."

He turned to leave, and heard the knight call out to him weakly.

"This isn't over, Nathaniel Garro! I will be filing my own protest to His Holiness, treating a fellow priest of Romalia like in such a shameful manner, is unheard of!"

The cardinal paused, and shrugged.

"Do that, but be sure not to leave out the particulars of why I did what I did."

He turned to leave.

"You were right about one thing, Don Chesaré. This isn't over."

Julio Chesaré stared as the carriage took off in the direction of Tristainia, seething. He turned to Azul, and mounted it, pondering his next move.

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, back at the palace of Tristainia)<strong>

"...I'm telling ya, sarge, that Jozef character isn't right in the head."

Crosby and Lugo were making their way from the palace dungeons to the 33rd barracks, having secured both of the VIP prisoners. The Delta sniper continued.

"...I mean, That guy didn't even react to the shit that went down in Dunkerque."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged.

"Everybody deals with this shit in their own way, Sgt. Lugo. Even us."

Lugo shook his head.

"Yeah, but that's not the most fucked up part of all of it. When I was securing Jozef in his cell, the fucker actually told me he was disappointed he didn't feel anything."

He chuckled humorlessly.

"Now, I dunno about you, but that takes a special kind of belt-fed loco to do something like that..."

They pushed open the doors to the ballroom which served as the 33rd's barracks and found one of the Royal Guards standing near Konrad's desk. She jumped at the sound of them entering, and gave a quick bow of apology.

"M-my apologies for intruding, Sir Crosby!"

Sgt. Crosby approached her.

"No worries. Where's the colonel? We're to report in after securing the VIP prisoners."

She nodded.

"Yes, yes actually I have already informed Lord General Konrad of the situation."

Lugo raised an eyebrow.

"So what the gag, lady? I mean, you're acting guiltier than a noob in BT about to be smoked for sneaking Charms in the bay, what gives?"

He looked around.

"And where is the colonel."

The guard blushed, and toyed with her cloak.

"Lord General Konrad is with the princess, and is not to be disturbed. On her orders."

She looked nervously at the two soldiers.

"Even...even you are not allowed to disturb them, but are to wait until Lord General Konrad returns!"

After blurting out the last bit, the Royal Guard hastily left the room. Lugo watched as she left, then turned to Crosby.

"What the hell was all that about, sarge?"

_(AN: What, indeed. The 33rd has just welcomed another convert into its fold, although it shouldn't come as a shock to anyone. This was a quick chapter that I churned out before my business trip, it was originally going to be part of a much larger chapter, but Garro's interactions with Julio ballooned up enough to merit this being a stand-alone chapter. The next chapter should be up week after next, maybe sooner, maybe not. Until then!)_


	156. The Darkness and the Light

_(AN: So...back from the trip and ready to tackle the next arc...This chapter is short as it was originally part of the next chapter but for pacing and atmosphere I cut it off and made it its own chapter. Be advised with the exception of a bit of kawai here and there, this next arc is going to be pretty grim...but remember what the colonel said, that it is always darkest before the dawn._

_On a side note, to the anonymous reviewer who has been flooding my inbox with 'guest' reviews, I am no longer accepting any anonymous reviews, they are being automatically deleted. A couple of guidelines to any reviewer to ensure your comments make it into the review page: take two minutes and log yourself in so I can respond adequately to your reviews, and take three minutes to review your punctuation and grammar, then take five minutes to edit it and make it coherent so it's not a rambling stream of consciousness post. I'm as big a fan of Jack Kerouac as the next Frenchman, but even I have my limits. I also have a sneaking suspicion that the capital offenders of crimes against grammar are anglophones, which is an aberration to someone who still struggles with the English language. _

_Anyways, rant over, On with the Show!)_

* * *

><p>"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must also be present."<p>

- Francis Bacon

"The light shined in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it."

- John 1:5

* * *

><p><strong>(Dungeon Cells underneath Tristainia Palace)<strong>

Jozef, formerly King Jozef, leader of Gallia, sat in his cell. Though there was no clock in this dungeon, the king estimated it had been several hours since he had been locked up. The first few hours he had to endure Sheffield complaining about the conditions of her cell. The former leader of the Reconquista was aghast at being left in a dank, musty cell with only a straw-covered cot for a bed and a chamber pot.

In truth, Jozef's accommodations were no better than hers, but unlike her he felt nothing at the insult. For that matter, Jozef still felt nothing at all, the familiar dull ache in his chest that was the constant reminder of the Void in his heart was all that he felt. All the Gallian king had were memories, images of every crime, every drop of blood spilled, every wanton and debased act that Jozef committed in a desperate bid to feel something, anything.

He remembered long ago, how his older brother Charles congratulated him, on the eve of Jozef's coronation as king of Gallia. Charles de Gallia had every right to contest the crowning, as the eldest male he was eligible and a more capable ruler. Still, Jozef recalled how his brother warmly and sincerely congratulated him, without a hint of malice or guile. It was then that Jozef found that he could feel no emotion, he remembered wanting to feel anger or jealousy at his older brother's supposed perfection, but was unable. In an act of desperation Jozef initiated a civil war, one that almost engulfed Gallia in flames, but still he felt nothing.

When he finally defeated his brother's army in battle, it was Jozef who delivered the killing blow to his brother, but still he felt nothing. Jozef even tried to have his niece Charlotte assassinated by poison, when that didn't work he kidnapped her with the intent of executing the girl himself. In this endeavor he was thwarted by the Outworlders and their weapons, he still felt nothing in defeat. His alliance with the Reconquista, and the war with Tristain was his last bid, but it was to no avail. Even now, as he conjured up the gruesome images of his men burned alive by the Dragon's Fire, Jozef still was no closer to achieving his goals.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sheffield's voice calling out from the cell adjacent to his.

"...I demand to speak to General Konrad! This filthy sewer isn't fit for a commoner, and I am a mage!"

Jozef shook his head. He was a fool to trust Sheffield, but she was a bigger fool for thinking that they could have defeated the Outworlders. Even stripped of the initiative the 33rd were able to gain the upper hand and defeat their enemies. Jozef finally interrupted his erstwhile ally's rant.

"Will you be silent, woman! Can't you see that we are the war criminals now? Don't you realize what lies in store for us? We face the hangman's noose for what we did in Dunkerque!"

A new voice spoke up in the darkness.

"Perhaps not, your highness."

Jozef turned to the voice's source, and put his head to the grated opening of his cell door. In the dim light of the dungeon the king could make out two cloaked figures. The owner of the voice, a male voice by the sound of it, stood in front of his cell, while the other stood beside Sheffield's cell. The figure in front of Jozef's cell spoke again.

"There is always a way out, if you know where to look."

A hand emerged from the folds of the cloak, revealing a wand, and in a bright flash of light the lock on Jozef's cell broke, and the door opened. The king still stood in his cell, frowning at the newcomer.

"What is the meaning of this, who are you?"

The stranger withdrew his wand back into the folds of his cloak, and then threw back the hood, revealing a youthful face with a reptilian smile. The young man's mismatched eyes glinted in the darkness as he glanced over to his partner, who was in the process of opening Sheffield's cell. Don Julio Chesaré then turned and continued to smile at Jozef.

"What, no tears of joy or gratitude from your savior, your majesty?"

The patronizing tone was lost on Jozef, and the king shrugged.

"And do what? Go back to Gallia with my tail between my legs, with my armies destroyed and my reputation in shambles?"

Sheffield stepped out of her cell, and sniffed.

"Better than rotting in a Tristainian dungeon, that's for sure."

She turned to the cloaked figure and smiled.

"You have my thanks, Fouquet of the Crumbling Earth. Come, let us leave this place for Albion."

The Reconquista mage turned to see that Jozef was still standing in his cell.

"When and if you leave this cell I will be in Londinium within a fortnight's time, we should meet again should you wish to plot your revenge against Tristain and her Outworlder allies."

With that Sheffield and her accomplice disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Jozef and the Romalian knight alone. It was Julio who broke the silence.

"I know why you do what you do, you majesty."

Jozef turned his back on Julio.

"You know nothing of my motivations, priest. Now go away, and leave me here!"

Don Chesaré smiled again.

"I know that you carry the Void within you, King Jozef of Gallia, and that you would see all of Helkeginia burn for the opportunity to feel something again."

He strode up to the king.

"What if I were to tell you that I have the means to make you feel again?"

Jozef turned sharply, and for a fleeting second there was a crack in the king's stoic demeanor. It was only for a second, but the Romalian knight saw it. An eagerness tingled with the desperation of a starving man grasping at a crumb of food. The king spoke finally.

"And what do you want in return for this?"

Julio reached into his cloak.

"The same thing you want, your majesty..."

The young knight produced a wicked-looking dagger that glistened in the darkness and spoke.

"...to kill John Konrad..."

* * *

><p>Henrietta sat in her chamber, on the settee next to the fireplace, still holding him close. He had sank to his knees, and now rested his head on the princess's lap. He uttered no sound, only the sporadic tremors and spasms from his shoulders gave any indication the he was crying three decades worth of tears.<p>

Colonel John Konrad; having actively served in the United States Army since the Cold War and winner of the Legion of Merit and the Congressional Medal of Honor, having command of the most highly decorated infantry battalion in Afghanistan and Iraq, having had his stoicism stripped away was now a mere man weeping for his sins. The princess said nothing, but stroked his silver hair. Finally she stood up, and pulled Konrad to his feet. Leading the colonel by the hand Henrietta opened the door to her chamber.

"Come John, there is something I want to show you."

Konrad looked back down the corridor, as if expecting to find one of his men waiting for him. The princess gently tugged on his hand.

"Do not worry, your men will not see this side of you. I left strict instructions with my Guards that we were not to be disturbed."

She paused and let out a rather girlish giggle.

"I wonder what your men will think of us..."

That caused Konrad to smile, and he followed the princess as she led him through the warren of corridors in the palace. After climbing a flight of stairs and turning to the right Henrietta finally stopped in front of a large ornate door. She pulled out a key from a chain around her neck, and opened it.

The room inside was luxuriously furnished, on one side of the room was a massive fireplace large enough to park a HUMVEE in, with a pair of mahogany chairs upholstered in soft kidskin arranged in front. On the opposite side was a two-story bookcase teeming with leatherbound volumes. The far wall had a set of stained glass paneled french doors that opened onto a wide veranda overlooking the city of Tristainia. A large four-postered bed with a canopy dominated the remaining wall. As Konrad took in the features of the room it struck him that it was very similar in layout to the princess's quarters, but this one had a distinctive masculine feel to it.

The princess stepped into the room, and beckoned the colonel to follow. The colonel walked around the room, and Henrietta broke the silence.

"This room holds a special place in my heart, John. It was supposed to be the guest quarters of my late beloved, Prince Wales."

She looked up suddenly at Konrad.

"Now, these quarters are yours! Please accept this, John!"

The colonel paused at the bookshelf, and picked up a book.

"Such a generous offer, I doubt I would have a choice to refuse..."

He smiled at the princess.

"Still, it's much more posh than my billet at the barracks, so I accept."

A crafty smile crossed Henrietta's lips, but the colonel didn't notice as he continued his tour of the room. While he was examining the luxurious bed and its surroundings Konrad noticed a large mirror hanging on the wall. It was tall and ran from the floor to the ceiling, it's surface polished to a high sheen and its frame was covered in odd-looking runes. He looked back to see Henrietta smiling at him.

"That mirror is no ordinary mirror, but is a magical portal."

Konrad touched the mirror, and to his surprise it caused the runes to let off an otherworldly blue glow.

"What sort of portal?"

Henrietta lowered her head.

"Originally it was used by my father as a clandestine means to visit his mistresses without my mother's knowledge. After his death mother recovered the other mirror and had it set here."

She blushed slightly.

"The other portal is in my personal chambers."

There was a heavy _thump!_ as the book the colonel was carrying dropped to the floor. In his shock Konrad had let it slip through his fingers as he stood stunned at the princess's revelation. Henrietta, for her part seemed amused at Konrad's shock, and let out a light laugh.

"Oh, John, if you could see the look on your face, it's priceless!"

She regained her composure.

"I know you need some time, John, and I will respect your wishes-"

The princess turned to leave.

"-But when you are ready, all you have to do is touch the mirror and speak my name, and it will transport you to me."

She paused in the doorway and smiled slyly at Konrad.

"...but I warn you John Konrad, do not to take too long lest I take matters into my own hands again."

With that she let out another girlish giggle as she opened the door and let herself out, leaving the CO of the 'Damned 33rd' still trying to process what had just transpired.

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile, back in the Dungeon)<strong>

King Jozef stared at the dagger, then looked back up at the Romalian knight offering it to him.

"Kill Konrad? Are you insane?"

Don Chesaré chuckled.

"Oh no, your majesty. I can assure you, I am as sane as you are. You see, this was my plan all along. The only way to get to these Outworlders, the 33rd as they call themselves, is to use unconventional means."

He looked around the cell.

"Originally I had conspired with Sheffield to kidnap one of the Outworlders for...our mutual benefactor, but alas even my most skilled assassins could not get close to them."

The knight paused.

"Then, whilst spying for the Reconquista at the Tristain Academy of Magic I learned that the commander of the royal guards was romantically involved with one of the Outworlders. It was then that I realized the easiest way to defeat them is to strike at their weakest point. I had made it my endeavor to seize this girl, and use her for leverage against the Outworlders."

He massaged his neck.

"Unfortunately she managed to elude capture at Dunkerque."

King Jozef snorted.

"Yes, so I have heard. Your hostage managed not only to escape Dunkerque but also managed to fall into the care of your superior, this Cardinal Garro."

That jib caused Don Chesaré to glare at the king.

"He is not my superior, I answer to Pope Vittorio alone!"

The fire died down in the knight's mismatched eyes, and he continued.

"Yes, even then I underestimated the 33rd and their allies. Which is why it has come to this."

"What do you mean?"

The knight continued.

"Do you know the old Germanian tales of the Basilisk, your majesty? It was a beast from the days of old, when the cursed heathen Elves warred against our kin, and used magic and beasts like that to defeat their enemies. The Basilisk's hide was armored such that no blade could pierce it, but for all of its power, it was still vulnerable in the head. "

He paused and looked directly at Jozef.

"That is where the old saying of 'to kill the Basilisk all you have to do is destroy the head' comes from, your majesty. We are presented with a unique opportunity, a chance to defeat the Outworlders and Tristian in one fell swoop. With this."

The knight held up the dagger.

"This weapon is coated with poison, a brew so potent that a mere scratch will render a man to a slow death in writhing agony. With Konrad gone, then his soldiers will fall into disarray, possibly even mutiny."

Jozef stared at the weapon again.

"What about Princess Henrietta, what if she rallies the Outworlders?"

Julio made a dismissive gesture.

"Leave her to me, your majesty. I can transport you to Konrad's inner sanctum, where you can hide and lay in wait for him."

Jozef hesitatingly reached and and took the weapon from Don Chesaré's hand. He stared at the dagger, then looked back up at the knight.

"So, if I do your dirty work, then I will feel again?"

Julio gave another evil smile.

"I promise you, your majesty, that once this deed is done you will feel everything again..."

* * *

><p><em>(AN: DUNDUNDUUUUUN! So finally Don Chesaré reveals his perfidy, and Konrad is in mortal danger! Can the CO of the 'Damned 33rd' be warned in time and thwart Julio's evil plans? Or will Konrad be ambushed, having let his guard down around the Princess Henrietta? Will the princess lose another loved one to treachery, and be doomed to die of a broken heart?<em>

_Will the idiot sitting at the Business Center in LAX stop monologuing on his laptop!?_

_GET ON WITH IT!_

_Ahem, so...still on the road, but I figured this would be a nice cliffhanger to whet your appetite until I get back in the saddle, so to speak. Now we know the full extent of Julio's plans, let's hope that our Speess Mahreen Garro has already caught wind of it, or else Konrad could be in mortal danger. Until then, if you want to learn of Konrad's fate, don't touch that dial!)_


	157. Gimme Shelter

_(AN: Sorry for the delay in getting this out, things got busy...again with the split-off chapter, because there is serious mood-whiplash ahead. We're closing in on the time when the 33rd will have to atone for their sins, and when that happens it won't be pretty. Not to mention a cruel twist approaching that will drag this story firmly into SO:TL territory...But until then, enjoy!)_

* * *

><p><em>"Oh, a storm is threat'ning<em>  
><em>My very life today<em>  
><em>If I don't get some shelter<em>  
><em>Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away<em>  
><em>War, children, it's just a shot away<em>  
><em>It's just a shot away..."<em>

* * *

><p>Amélie shifted in her armor as she barred the way for the two Outworlders in their barracks. The princess's orders were absolute, but it still made her nervous under the two soldier's scrutiny. The one in the black and white armor put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at her.<p>

"Just what the hell is going on here, anyways? Why can't the colonel be disturbed?"

The Royal Guard fidgeted with her Martini rifle.

"Well, the princess...she had something to tell Lord General Konrad...it's important!"

Crosby opened his mouth to respond, but Lugo beat him to the punch. The Delta sniper sauntered over to Amélie the guard, giving her his trademarked grin as he reached into his pocket.

"Hey, no worries, toots..."

He pulled out a deck of cards from his BDU trousers.

"Since we're not going anywhere, you wanna see a cool magic trick?"

The Delta sniper casually shuffled the cards one-handed and quickly place three cards on top of Konrad's desk, then flipped them over to reveal a Queen of Hearts, a ten of Clubs and a Jack of Clubs. He looked back up at the guard.

"Now, the game is really quite simple, toots. All ya gotta do is follow the queen."

He then flipped the cards over and began shuffling them around on the desktop. The Zulu Squad sergeant watched Lugo demonstrate a version of Three Card Monte onto the female guard. Amélie, for her part, was fascinated and picked the queen on the first try. She let out a squeal of delight and asked Lugo to re-shuffle the three cards and have her try again. She also took no notice of Crosby as he snuck behind her and tip toed out the door. In the hallway he glanced back, and chuckled to himself.

"Lugo, you really are a piece of work," he said to himself.

As he walked down the hallway he saw Alex walking towards him.

"What's up, sarge?"

The sergeant shrugged.

"Trying to find out where the princess is keeping the colonel, private."

As Alex tried to continue towards the barracks Crosby stopped him.

"Don't bother, Sgt. Lugo is distracting a guard who was being very cagey about the whereabouts of Konrad. C'mon, let's go."

As they made their way through the warren of palace corridors, Crosby paused at a set of ornate doors, with two Royal Guards stationed at the entrance. He looked over to Alex.

"This should be our first stop, the throne room."

The guards relented after Crosby gave cryptic "Outworlder business, need to know sweetheart, move along" excuse, and they opened the doors. It was empty, no sign of the princess, and no sign of Konrad. Alex spoke up.

"Well, that rules out one location, where next?"

Crosby was about to respond when a set of speakers appeared over their heads, and a familiar voice boomed and echoed through the corridor.

_"Well, well well! We have a case of the missing Colonel! Apparently the fearless leader of the Damned 33rd is nowhere to be found, where could he be? Could he be with Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with a Candlestick? Or could it be that Konrad has finally succumbed to the wiles of the pretty princess? I know if I were in his boots I'd be hitting that, for sure! Here's a little music to help you guys find the colonel, oh and if you see Staff Sergeant Forbes tell him he owes me a pair of speakers, and a tell-all interview!"_

More 80's music began playing as the two soldiers continued their search for Konrad.

_"...This girl's an open page_  
><em>Book marking, she's so close now<em>  
><em>This girl is half his age..."<em>

The music momentarily lowered as the Radioman continued his commentary.

_"In the case of the Princess Henrietta, it's more like she's a third your age, Konrad you sly old dog you! But hey, you know what they say, age is only a number and if there's grass on the...well, you get the idea! With that, we continue with the music!"_

The song's refrain continued, as Crosby shook his head at he Radioman's crass jokes. One of these days Darden will piss off the wrong female and will get another foot in the nuts for his trouble, the sergeant thought.

_"...Don't stand, don't stand so_  
><em>Don't stand so close to me<em>  
><em>Don't stand, don't stand so..."<em>

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Princess Henrietta was making her way back to the throne room, in exceptionally high spirits. She had managed to coax John Konrad out of his shell, and she was that much closer to getting the colonel to reciprocate her love. It would not be long now, Henrietta thought to herself with a smile as she opened a door. Suddenly the princess was almost bowled over by a Royal Guard rushing through at the same time as her. The guard blanched at her faux pas, and threw herself down on one knee.<p>

"M-my apologies, your Highness!"

Henrietta recovered herself quickly and gave the guard a gentle smile.

"It is fine, Madeleine, I was not harmed. But what brings you here in such a hurry?"

The Royal Guard rose to her feet.

"Your Highness, a carriage bearing the coat of arms of Romalia approaches the palace, and the runners say it is urgent business!"

A frown creased Henrietta's features.

"Romalia? What would Pope Vittorio's envoys want with Tristain now?"

She turned and gestured to the guard.

"Give them passage, and conduct them to my throne room, I will receive them there."

When Henrietta arrived at her throne room she found the two guards looking flustered, apparently two of Konrad's subordinates were looking for him, and the Jester's music had accompanied them. The princess shrugged it off, and entered her throne room, took up her sceptre and assumed a more regal pose as she sat on the throne.

Not more than five minutes passed before one of the doors opened again, this time the Royal Guards called out the visitor's name.

"Your Highness, Cardinal Nathaniel Garro, and his guest, seek an audience with you!"

She nodded.

"Show them in."

This time both doors were flung open, and a man who resembled a walking mountain entered the throne room. The princess recognized the man as the Romalian envoy who officiated Lugo and Siesta's wedding before the Battle for Tristainia. But now Nathaniel Garro was wearing the resplendent robes of a cardinal in the Holy Romalian Imperial court. The giant took long strides as he made his way to the throne, his cloak billowed in his wake, almost brushing against the pillars that flanked him. The cardinal paused when he reached the foot of the dais, and gave a respectful bow and spoke in a richly-accented baritone voice.

"Your Highness, thank you for receiving me on such short notice."

The princess surprised Garro by rising from her throne, descending down to his level, and genuflecting on one knee to kiss the ring that was his badge of office. It was true that the Romalian Cardinals technically outranked all nobility and answered only to the Pope himself, but it was a shocking sign of humility and respect for a monarch to defer to the cardinal's badge of office. Henrietta arose and gave Garro a smile.

"No need for apologies, your Eminence. Your loyalty to Tristain and my allies are well-known, and I gladly accept any information you can pass along."

Garro gave a nod.

"Then I must speak with your chief advisor John Konrad, immediately. It is a matter of life and death."

"Wait."

A feminine voice spoke up and both the cardinal and the princess paused. They turned to see a third figure, Henrietta almost didn't see the newcomer arrive as she was almost engulfed by Garro's crimson cloak. The newcomer stepped forward, her figure and features concealed behind a long roughspun traveling cloak.

"Please, may I take leave? I must see him!"

Something about the voice sounded familiar to Henrietta, but before she could react the stranger flung back her hood, revealing the features of her commander of the Guards, Agnès de Milan. The princess's eyes widened at the revelation.

"Agnès! You're alive! B-but how?"

Before she could respond the cardinal placed one of his large hands gently on the female chevalier's shoulder.

"Peace, commander. We must-"

But then the conversation was interrupted by both doors opening, with one of the guards frantically calling in.

"I'm sorry, your Highness, but they were most insistent upon seeing you!"

Garro turned and saw the familiar face of Sgt. Crosby approach, his own features set in a grave expression.

"This won't take long, guard. Sorry to barge in here, princess, but we need to know where-"

But even Crosby was interrupted by a loud squeal, as Agnès saw that Private Walker was with the sergeant. She threw aside her cloak and ran towards Alex with arms wide open. The private was rooted to the spot, he must be hallucinating; he saw Agnès standing next to a big guy in religious vestments, now she was running towards him. At any moment he expected her to dissolve like a dream into thin air, so he didn't get his hopes up as the apparition got closer. Then a very real Agnès collided with Alex, and they both fell to the floor in a heap.

Before the private could even comprehend what happened the female chevalier was covering him in frantic kisses, crying tears of joy. His eyes focused, and he reached up with one hand to touch her cheek. When his fingers brushed her soft skin, Alex's eyes widened, and tears blurred his vision.

"Agnès...you're alive..."

The female knight paused, and wiped away some of his tears.

"But of course! I was rescued by Cardinal Garro in the siege of Dunkerque and..."

Then it hit Agnès, and her eyes widened.

"Alex...y-you thought I was dead?"

The sadness in the private's eyes told her everything, and she held Alex close.

"My poor Alex!"

Crosby watched the surreal scene unfold and not for the last time wondered what sort of bizarre world the 33rd had ended up in, then he heard Garro clear his throat.

"As touching as this reunion is, I still need to speak with your commanding officer, sergeant. It is a matter of utmost urgency."

Crosby shrugged and pointed to the princess.

"Ask her, we've been trying to find that out all evening."

All eyes turned to Henrietta, who was blushing for some reason.

"I-I had some things to discuss with him, after that I escorted him to his new quarters, that was the last place I saw him!"

Garro took a step forward.

"He was left alone, with no guards?"

When the princess nodded Garro quickly turned on his heels towards Crosby.

"Then there isn't a second to lose! Bring your men sergeant, and make sure they are armed for battle. I fear we may be too late..."

* * *

><p>Konrad was still in his new quarters, sitting in the darkness and still trying to process what Princess Henrietta had told him. His gaze fell upon the mirror, and he recalled the words of Henrietta. A magic mirror that was a portal? Even after all the months he had spent in this weird world of magic and doe-eyed females with severe mood swings, the colonel still found himself marveling at the concept of a mirror that served as a portal.<p>

Finally he stood up, and walked over to the mirror. Out of curiosity, he reached out and touched the mirror's smooth surface, and the runes began to emit a blue glow. Then, the mirror's surface became clear, and he could see another bedroom beyond it. The colonel took a step forward, and suddenly he found himself back in the princess's bedroom. With a start he glanced about, but the room was empty, there were only smoldering embers in the fireplace. Konrad felt a slight pang of disappointment, but he quickly dismissed it when a rattling doorknob caught his attention.

His soldier's instincts kicked in, and the colonel concealed himself behind the armoire next to the mirror. From his hiding place Konrad peered out, and could see a dark figure at the french doors that led out to the balcony. Someone, or some thing, was trying to gain entry to the princess's quarters. The colonel's hand instinctively went to his hip, and he felt the reassuring weight of his M9 holstered on his belt.

* * *

><p><em>"Say again, Crosby I didn't catch that last bit!"<em>

The Zulu Squad sergeant rounded a corner and had to take longer strides to keep up with the massive man leading the charge. He had sent out an alarm over the wide-open frequency, and had received confirmation from Gordon and Forbes. The one responding now was Lugo, so Crosby keyed the throat mic on his radio.

_"Repeating, Code Red, Code Red, Code Red! CO is in danger, all units gear up and converge at the 3rd juncture in the Royal Wing of the palace, immediately!" _

There was a squawk in response, so Crosby continued up another flight of stairs, almost colliding with Garro at the top. The Romalian cardinal seemed more concerned for Crosby's well-being than his own.

"I trust that backup is coming, sergeant?"

Crosby nodded as he re-checked his P90, then looked back at Garro. He reached down and un-holstered his Desert Eagle and offered it to the cardinal, butt-first. Garro smiled and took the pistol, examining it. As the cardinal scrutinized it Crosby thought the .50 caliber handgun looked like a toy pistol in the Romalian's massive palm. Finally Garro spoke.

"A blackpowder-based semi-automatic pistol. There are techpriests that would sell their souls for the opportunity to study this archeotech."

He handed it back to Crosby.

"Thank you, sergeant, but I will not need weapons in this engagement. Besides I would feel bad if I accidentally crushed it in my grip."

He paused and heard the sound of footfalls on the stairs.

"Ah, our backup approaches."

* * *

><p>Having tested the door, Julio Chesaré pulled out his wand and muttered an incantation, it unlatched, and opened inwards. Still carrying his wand Don Chesaré silently entered the princess's bedchambers. A quick scan around the room showed that it was empty. A pity, the turncoat knight thought to himself, but no matter. Princess Henrietta would have to return to her quarters eventually, and he would lie in wait for her. Then, Julio would be ready to spring his trap, and with one fell swoop cripple Tristian and these hated Outworlders.<p>

He slowly crept around the room, like a spider in its lair, and paused in front of a large ornate armoire, with one door ajar and something silky draped over it. Julio smiled to himself as illicit thoughts danced through his mind. There would always be time have some sport with the princess, before killing her...

Then he froze as he felt something cold and metallic press against the back of his neck, and he heard an audible click. A voice that was decidedly not the princess, spoke in the darkness.

"I never figured you as a panty fetishist, Don Chesaré."

Julio recognized it as Konrad, and cursed himself. He felt helpless as the barrel pressed harder against the skin on his neck.

"I'm afraid Princess Henrietta isn't in at the moment, is there something I can help you with?"

* * *

><p>The hallway echoed with the sound of combat boots pounding on marble as Crosby and the rest of the 33rd charged through the palace's corridors. Even Lugo had been called off magic duty via radio and had joined the rest of the soldiers as they raced against the clock. Still leading from the front was Garro, his large strides easily keeping up with the soldier's double time. In the rear Agnès along with a trio of Guards escorted the breathless princess as she tried to keep up with the crowd of soldiers.<p>

Finally they reached Konrad's quarters, Crosby slowly made his way to the door, tested the handle, then looked back. He signaled to Lugo and Forbes, then held up his left hand, holding up five fingers. He silently counted down, then pulled open the door. Lugo rushed in, followed by Forbes. Sgt. Lugo checked his corner and called out.

"Clear!"

Forbes checked his corner, the beam from the rail-mounted light flashed throughout the room.

"Room's clear, but no sign of Konrad."

Crosby entered, and lowered his P90.

"So where the hell is the colonel?"

Henrietta and her entourage caught up, out of breath. Garro turned to the princess.

"It would appear as if Konrad is missing, where else could he be?"

Suddenly a sharp cracked echoed through the palace halls. The guards were puzzled, but every soldier in the room knew what that was. A gunshot.

"Quickly, to the barracks!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Exactly five minutes earlier)<strong>

King Jozef checked the deserted corridor, then tested the knob on the door in front of him. According to Don Chesaré this ballroom served as the barracks for the Outworlders, and at this hour only Konrad would be there, alone. He glanced down at the poisoned dagger in his hands. It would only take a moment, a small scratch, and that would be the end of the Outworlder's influence in Helkeginia. A small part of him fervently wished that this act would elicit something, anything in the way of feelings.

Silently he entered the barracks, his footfalls making only a slight rustle in the darkness. At first the cavernous room seemed deserted, but then movement caught the Gallian king's eye, and on the far wall was a mantle with a fire blazing in it. In front of the fireplace was a large chair with its back to Jozef, with a table beside it. A tin mug sat on the table, and instantly the king knew that was where Konrad was.

Slowly he made his way over to the chair, dagger in hand. He was almost in arm's reach, he could feel the heat from the fireplace, and smell the freshly brewed coffee in the mug. He spun the chair around, dagger poised to strike, only to see Julio Chesaré sitting there unconscious, bound and gagged. Suddenly the king heard a voice in the darkness behind him.

"That's far enough, your Majesty."

Jozef spun around, only to see Konrad standing there, with a pistol in hand.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The colonel leveled his weapon at the king.

"Your eyes are opening for the first time, your Majesty. Someone has to pay for your crimes, so who's it going to be?"

The king attempted a lunge with his dagger, but was deterred when Konrad fired his pistol, dislodging a large chunk of the parquet floor just in front of Jozef's feet. Defeated, the king lowered his eyes and the dagger clattered to the floor.

"It was a foolish plan...I should have known better."

Konrad shrugged.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty. But you knew it would end this way. Your army, slaughtered...your world, on fire...and you, all alone. You're a failure, your Majesty."

He smiled ruefully.

"Finally, something we have in common...You really should have left when you had the chance."

Jozef closed his eyes.

"All I wanted was to feel something...anything."

Konrad raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

The king looked directly at the colonel.

"I am a Void Mage, one of the most powerful in all of Gallia."

He placed a hand on his chest.

"But it comes at a terrible cost, the Void you see wormed it's way into my heart, and now I feel nothing."

Jozef shook his head.

"And I have not felt anything for ten years...for ten long years I've yearned to fell something, anything. I long to feel the sun on my face, the caress of a gentle breeze, the warmth of a woman..."

The king continued.

"I started a bloody civil war that almost tore Gallia apart...murdered my own brother...attempted to murder my niece, so much innocent blood in on my hands...all because I wanted to feel something, anything..."

He sighed in defeat.

"I-I will submit to judgement, even if it means my execution, if you will but spare the remnants of my men."

Konrad paused.

"If you admit to your crimes, and are willing to die to save the remaining lives of your soldiers, then I will spare them. Who knows, maybe in death you will be forgiven, and maybe even you will feel something."

Then the door burst open, and the colonel saw a large man enter the room, with Crosby and the rest of the 33rd taking defensive positions. Konrad gave a wry smile to his men.

"Gentlemen, it seems that reports of my death...have been greatly exaggerated."

_(AN: So there's a bit of time discrepancy from when Konrad busted Julio to where Jozef sneaks into the barracks, as well as how he could get from his quarters to the barracks in such short time. I'm chalking it up to A Wizard Did It, since it would take up valuable story space to make it work. So now Konrad is safe, but what will be the consequences for Jozef and his co-conspirator for attempting to assassinate the monarch of Tristain and her trusted advisor? Stick around, don't touch that dial!)_


	158. The Horror

_(AN: Well, as demonstrated before, the enemies of Tristain and the 33rd, like Captain Walker, were wrong genre savvy. Everyone, from Jozef and Sheffield all the way down to Sir Richilieu, thought that they were the antagonists in a traditional fantasy anime, but what they didn't realize is that they were in a world where the rules are thrown out the window, and Spec Ops: The Line's rules supreme over all. A mistake that will cost them all dearly. For reasons that will become evident very soon, this chapter is being bumped up to Mature. Ye've been warned.)_

* * *

><p>"John!"<p>

Konrad turned to see Henrietta standing in the doorway of the barracks, puffing breathlessly. She quickly gathered up her skirts and rushing over towards him. Konrad for his part had braced for impact, but when she collided with him and hugged him in a tight embrace it almost threw the colonel off balance. Her guard Madeleine almost dropped her rifle in shock at the princess's blatant display of affection, but it was Garro who broke the spell, he turned to Crosby.

"Sergeant, have your men secure the prisoner, and this time I suggest round the clock guards to prevent another breakout."

The Zulu Squad sergeant nodded and looked over to Forbes and Lugo.

"Men, shackle that piece of shit and put him in a cage, preferably one he can't get out of."

The two soldiers sprang into action and seized the king. Jozef, for his part, did not put up a struggle of any sort. The man seemed as emotionless as the day before when they had toured the ruins of Dunkerque.

Garro walked over and picked up the dagger.

"Anathame? But how did it get here?"

He looked over to the unconscious form of Don Chesaré, then back to Crosby.

"Sergeant, there are certain...questions I need to ask our prisoner, is there some place where I can perform that task without interruption?"

The implications were not lost on Crosby, but he looked over to Konrad, who was still being hugged by Henrietta. The colonel gave a slight nod, then looked down at the princess.

"Your Hig-Henrietta, you really shouldn't be here, let me take you back to the throne room."

* * *

><p>Crosby led the way through a small courtyard and stopped in front of an iron-bound oak door. He pulled out a key and heard the footfalls of Cardinal Garro behind him. The high walls blotted out any of the ambient light, even the twin moons which were at their fullest, and in the darkness the large man loomed over Crosby like a shadowy figure from nightmares. Then a soft baritone voice spoke, and broke the spell.<p>

"Is this the place, sergeant?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant stared at the door and recalled that this wine cellar was the same secluded spot where he and Lt. Gordon waterboarded the Reconquista assassin, that seemed like an eternity ago. Finally Crosby spoke.

"Yep, this fits the bill for being secluded."

He turned the lock and the door opened with a groaning creak.

"...Just watch your head, it's pretty cramped in here."

Crosby lit a candle and made his way down the steps, past several large casks of wine, and opened another door. Beyond the door was a small room with a vaulted ceiling, which was bare save a long table with four chained shackles, one at each corner, and a low table against the wall with a rag and a pitcher of water. When Garro entered the room he set Julio's unconscious form onto the table and locked his wrists and ankles to the manacles. He looked over to Crosby who held up a pitcher of water.

"You need gonna need this?"

A small smile played on the giant's lips, as if Crosby has uttered a jest.

"No, sergeant, I'm afraid that more...persuasive means will be necessary."

He removed his cloak, and set down the dagger on the small table. Crosby stared at the dagger, Garro must have been reading the soldier's thoughts.

"You may look, sergeant, but do not touch, that dagger's blade is a thousandfold more dangerous than anything your world could produce."

Crosby nodded as he looked back up at the cardinal, who was now standing over the prone form of Don Chesaré.

"What is that-what did you call it, an anathama?"

Garro smiled as he shook his head.

"Anathame, a deadly weapon from my universe."

He looked down at the small blade.

"It doesn't look like much, but this weapon brought a Primarch low and ignited a civil war that saw the galaxy burn."

Garro looked back at the sergeant, whose eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I know, sergeant, it is a fantastic tale, a great crusade in the far future whose purpose was to unite humanity not only on Terra, but the entire galaxy. At some point I should commit it to paper, or at least tell it to you, for none other than you or your fellow soldiers would believe me."

He looked back to the form of the Romalian knight, who began to stir. Julio's mismatched eyes flickered open, and immediately he struggled against his fetters. Garro stepped forward.

"Cease your futile struggles, Don Chesaré. It will avail you not."

Julio glared at the larger man.

"Y-you can't do this! Imprisoning a member of the Romalian court without due cause of accusations! This is blasphemy!"

Garro's patrician features contorted into a frown, and he backhanded the knight.

"Do not speak to me of blasphemy, you lying snake! You stand accused of breaking your vows to His Holiness Vittorio, conspiring with sworn enemies of Tristain, and attempted murder."

He held up the poisoned dagger.

"And there is the matter of this. Where did you get this?"

The knight's eyes widened at the sight of the dagger, and he shrank away from it.

"Our vows! Remember the holy vows we both took! We-we renounced violence..."

He was interrupted by a backhanded slap, one that drew blood. As the knight spat out a bloodied tooth, Garro continued to speak.

"You are right, Don Chesaré...but you forget that before I became a priest of Romalia I was and still am an Astartes, weapon forged in human form, oath-bound to execute the enemies of mankind."

He set down the dagger, and the cardinal's eyes took on a dangerous glitter.

"This is your last warning, Don Chesaré, where did you get this dagger?"

Julio raised his chin defiantly.

"Do your worst, Nathaniel Garro. You always did have a weakness for the weakest link in Helkegin-AAAAAAAAAH"

His last words twisted into an tortured scream, as Garro reached out and, with terrifying ease, tore Julio's left arm out of its socket with a sickening squelching crunching noise. Bright arterial red blood pumped out of the gaping wound as the severed arm dangled off the edge still twitching and shackled to the table. The cardinal stuffed part of the knight's cloak into the wound to partially stanch the bleeding, then slapped Julio's face, as the young knight was hyperventilating from the pain.

"Focus, Don Chesaré, focus. You now know that your life is over, I am capable and willing to tear each of your limbs out, one by one, until you tell me what I want to know. That is the road to pain, and I will make it last for days, if necessary. Or I can end your pain quickly, all you have to do is tell me what I want to know. Where did you get this dagger?"

Julio stopped staring at where his arm used to be and looked back at Garro. Finally he spoke.

"It was a gift, from the Reconquista's benefactor, Lord Alduin."

This time the cardinal's eyes widened in shock.

"So...the terrible rumors circulating around His Holiness's court are true..."

And he looked back at Crosby.

"...this fell entity Alduin has been behind the wars, the one who unleashed the red dragon at the Battle for Tristainia...The one who corrupted Oliver Cromwell's heart, and saw Halstaff and the other royalists murdered..."

He turned his attention to Julio, who was still mewling in pain.

"One more question, Don Chesaré. Then I will end your pain. What are your master's plans? What does this Alduin want?"

The knight, to his credit, gritted his teeth in pain, and his eyes refocused.

"The destruction of Helkeginia. Lord Alduin wishes to enter this world and burn it to cinders. We of the Inner Ciricle were to be blessed as the His Elect, and would bear witness to Lord Alduin's great-"

But Julio's monologue was cut short as Garro reached out and twisted the knight's neck, ending his life and his pain. He turned to Crosby. The normally hardened and stoic Zulu Squad sergeant looked pale, and like he was about ready to be sick. Garro reached out and steadied him.

"Steady there, sergeant. I know that this seems barbaric, but it was a necessity."

Crosby wiped his brow off, and slowly the color came back into his face.

"I think we can cut out the 'seeming' bit, Garro. This passes over the barbaric and goes straight into medieval territory...Was it really necessary-"

Garro interrupted him with a sad smile.

"Sergeant, there is no difference between what is right, and what is necessary. Don Chesaré's death was a necessity, sergeant. If he was allowed to live then he could spread his poisonous lies elsewhere. It was he who planted the idea of going to war with Tristain, it was he who convinced the already defeated Jozef to kill Konrad."

He gently shook Crosby to punctuate his words.

"He. Had. To. Die. Trust me on this."

Crosby looked down at the mangled corpse, and again was terrified at the sheer power of this man. However, he couldn't argue with Garro's logic. Now, they knew who the true enemy was, and more importantly what this Alduin's plans were. He looked up.

What about the body?"

Garro turned to leave.

"Burn it. His numerous sins and sacrilegious breaking of his vows have determined his eternal reward. It also means he cannot be interred on Romalia's consecrated grounds."

He looked down at his massive hands, both stained with blood.

"I require ablutions, and beg your leave, sergeant."

* * *

><p><strong>(Meanwhile)<strong>

"C'mon, Grunt! Pick up the pace with those chains!"

Forbes struggled with the rusted chains that secured the king of Gallia to a wooden stockade, while Sgt. Lugo was assembling a crude metal cage. The makeshift prison cell was at the head of the grand staircase that led from the palace's main courtyard to the royal viewing balcony. At first both NCO's had questioned Konrad's decision, but the colonel was adamant, and very cryptic as to his reasons why.

Forbes secured another link of chain around the lip of the stockade, while the king still offered no resistance. He looked up at Lugo.

"S'matter, Delta Boy, you got a hot date tonight?"

Lugo grinned.

"For your information Grunt, I've got a maid back home that has been feeling very neglected by her sexy All-American fighting machine husband! Something I plan on rectifying as soon as we've secured King Nothing here!"

The older sergeant chuckled.

"Then quit yakking and give me a hand securing King Nothing, the sooner we're done here the sooner you can get back to boiking your teenaged bride!"

The Delta sniper finished bolting the last panel on the cage and hopped down.

"Damn, Grunt you got a pretty glib mouth there! Hell, if your brain was has half as fast as your mouth you'd be twenty star general by now instead of just an ugly ass grunt NCO."

Forbes shook his head.

"Yeah, don't kid yourself Delta Boy. I'll take rugged good looks over being a pretty boy any day of the week."

Lugo helped him secure the other chain link.

"Rugged? Don't kid yourself Grunt. If I was half as ugly as you I'd still get a blue ribbon in the Ugly Dog Butt Beauty Pageant, hell I'd probably be eight-six'd for being a professional in the bush leagues."

Forbes just laughed at the jib, but didn't respond. After Jozef's hands, feet and neck were secured in the stockage, Lugo looked over to the prisoner.

"Okaay, so you comfy? Yes? No? Maybe?"

There was no response from the king. Indeed, Jozef's hadn't moved, resisted or said anything since his apprehension. Lugo shrugged.

"Nothing from the prisoner? Okay, well too bad, `coz we're leaving."

With that both the soldiers left the cage, and were greeted by four Royal Guards and court noble. Lugo swung the gate shut, locked it, and watched as the noble pointed his wand at the lock and muttered an incantation. The guards threw a semi-professional military salute to Forbes and Lugo, who returned them.

"Alright, he's all yours, ladies. A 33rd soldier will be here to relieve you in four hours. Until then, try to keep any suspicious characters away from the cage, okay?"

Forbes noticed one of the female guards blushing at Lugo's flippant manner, but said nothing. Silence reigned as both the soldiers made their way back into the palace, but the Delta sniper finally broke the silence with a quip.

"...And speaking of being a pedobear, how is things going with you and the dragon girl?"

"Okay, and thanks for respecting my privacy, Delta Boy."

Lugo ignored the sarcasm in Forbes' voice and continued.

"So, how's is the sex? I mean, I know all these local gals seem to have the sex drive and libido of a porn actress hopped up on Hug Drugs, but a dragon girl? That's gotta be a first!"

Forbes' voice took a dangerous tone.

"Drop it, Delta Boy..."

"...Are you two going to get married and have kids? If so, izzit going to be like in Shrek where they're half dragon and half jackass? How does that work..."

Lugo was interrupted as Forbes dope-slapped him, knocking his ballcap off.

"Ow! Hey, watch it, that's my lucky hat!"

The older sergeant snorted as he picked up the 'Life's a Beach' cap off the floor.

"You mean this ugly ass non-regulation cover, Delta Boy? Good to know, now I know what to use when the TP runs out in the latrine!"

"C'mon man! Quit fucking around and give it back!"

* * *

><p>Back in the throne room Cardinal Garro stood before Princess Henrietta seated in her throne, while Colonel Konrad stood by her side. He had relayed the information he obtained from his interrogation and execution of the traitorous Don Julio Chesaré. To her credit the princess didn't faint when the cardinal bluntly answered her question as to the Romalian knight's fate, then the large man gave a low bow.<p>

"I am sorry, your Majesty, for troubling you with such details. But now you know the true enemy behind the Reconquista."

He turned to leave.

"Now, I must take leave."

Konrad spoke up.

"A shame, we could use an extra pair of hands in chasing down Sheffield. Especially a big pair of hands."

Garro paused and smiled thinly at Konrad's quip.

"Yes, it would be fortuitous. But I am afraid I now face censure for my executing a priest of Romalia, the longer I delay that the more likely the choler of His Holiness will be stoked."

Before he could continue, Princess Henrietta spoke up.

"Wait, your Eminence! All of this makes no sense, why?"

The cardinal raised an eyebrow.

"Why what, your Majesty?"

Henrietta gestured with her sceptre.

"Why would this priest, this Don Chesaré break his vows? What drove him to hate our cause so much?"

The cardinal was silent for a long time before he responded.

"Ambition. Don Chesaré coveted the cardinal's cloak and the power the office represented. Later, he became resentful of the late Cardinal Halstaff for taking me under his wing when I...arrived in this world."

He paused.

"Cardinal Halstaff was very patient with me, you see. When I first came to this bizarre world I was much more...different, it was through his patience and good example that I became the man I am today."

Garro closed his eyes.

"He was a good man, Cardinal Halstaff. A righteous and holy man who took in a fanatic, a violent weapon in human form, and converted him through good example and patient tutelage."

He opened his eyes and wiped away a single tear, and stared at his massive hands.

"Alas, I fear all of his work has been undone. Notwithstanding, it was when Cardinal Halstaff recommended to His Holiness that I take the title of Arch-Primate, a path that would eventually lead to me being ordained a cardinal, that drove Don Chesaré to jealousy. His soul was further embittered when His Holiness showed favor to Tristain and her allies, and when I was ordained a cardinal that was the last straw. In the end, Julio Chesaré's ambition and jealousy poisoned his soul and he turned to the dark side."

He sat there in the stunned silence his revelation caused, then Cardinal Garro turned and strode out of the throne room without another word. Princess Henrietta sat dumbfounded and turned to Konrad, who was still staring at the retreating form and the crimson cape billowing in his wake. The colonel finally spoke.

"Your Highness, it has been a long day, you should retire. I have some things I must speak to my men about."

She nodded once, and stood from her perch. As she turned to leave Henrietta leaned in and whispered to Konrad, so only he could hear her.

"Remember what I said, John. You must make your decision soon, lest I make it for you!"

* * *

><p><strong>(30 minutes later, the 33rd's barracks)<strong>

Konrad stood by his desk, in front of the assembled men. The only two soldiers who were not present was Private Walker, whose was on 'excused duty' and Sgt. Lugo, whom Forbes said was 'busy on maid servicing detail.' The colonel cleared his throat, and the murmur of voices ceased.

"Forbes, sit-rep!"

SSG Forbes stepped forward, and saluted.

"Sir, the prisoner is secured, he has round the clock guards, I doubt he'll try and escape again."

Lt. Gordon stepped up.

"Sir, the Royal Guards have reported that the last of the Gallian prisoners of war have been gathered in the East Courtyard."

Konrad nodded.

"How many are we talking about?"

"Around one hundred, sir, and roughly half as many walking wounded."

The colonel processed this information. With that many prisoners they couldn't keep them contained for long.

"And what is the prisoner's disposition, lieutenant?"

"So far they're being docile, sir. But we're already getting rumblings about them wanting to see their king."

Konrad smiled thinly.

"Of course they wish to see their king, and in that regard their wishes will soon be granted."

Crosby stepped forward.

"Sir, with respect, why haven't we dumped Jozef into the deepest darkest dungeon in the palace? Or just put a bullet in his brain-pan?"

The colonel turned to his senior NCO.

"Sergeant, if we dump him in a dungeon he could always escape, and if we merely shoot him we create a martyr. No, gentlemen, everything I'm having you do is all part of my plan."

The Zulu Squad sergeant raised an eyebrow.

"And what plan is that, sir?"

For a brief moment Konrad recalled the horrors of Dubai; the botched Evacuation, the ensuing Mutiny, and the terrible aftermath. Then he heard a small voice scratch the edge of his consciousness, like a splinter in his mind.

_This is all your fault..._

Konrad shook away the memories, and regained his composure.

"I don't know about you, sergeant, but I am damned sick and tired of these armchair generals and politicians making war and causing the deaths of others, treating lives like pawns on a chessboard. I think it's high time someone changed that."

He looked over to Crosby and Forbes.

"SSG Forbes, Sgt. Crosby, tomorrow morning at 0430 I need both of you to coordinate with the Guards and have all the POW's funneled into the main courtyard."

He looked over to Lt. Bowles.

"Bowles I want Big Ugly One up in the air by 0400, you are to patrol the route the prisoners will take. If anyone gets out of line..."

The colonel left the dire threat hanging in the air like a dark cloud, and Bowles nodded.

"...Then they get turned into hamburger, got it, sir!"

Konrad looked to the rest of the soldiers assembled.

"Do not worry, come tomorrow morning all will be made clear. Gentlemen, you are dismissed..."

* * *

><p><strong>(The following morning, 0400 hours)<strong>

Forbes was awake, lying on his back. The last couple of nights he had been free of the terrible dreams of Dubai, but he still felt dread, though he knew not why. He gently pulled himself out of Tabitha's embrace, and sidled away from her warm body. She was still sound asleep, and the sergeant went through great pains to make sure he didn't wake her up. At the head of the bed Forbes slipped out of bed and winced as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor.

Silently and quickly he pulled on his ACU trousers and boots, then buttoned up his blouse. He grabbed his rifle and Deuce Gear and slowly opened the door. Forbes looked back at the sleeping form of Tabitha, then turned and snuck out the opening, and shut the door behind him. As he was snapping on his armor and load-bearing vest he heard a feminine voice speak up behind him.

"What's wrong?'

Forbes spun around and saw a tall, blue-haired girl standing in front of him, wearing a loose-fitting nightie and munching on a baguette. Forbes let out a sigh of relief.

"Jeezus Illococoo! I told ya don't sneak up on me like that."

But the dragon girl just keep staring at Forbes. Then she rushed forward and dropped the loaf of bread from her hands, and hugged him. Forbes was shocked by the display, and was further shocked when the girl looked up, her large cobalt-blue eyes were shining with tears.

"You're afraid, Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes, and I'm afraid too! There's something dark on the horizon, something's coming!"

She rested her head on his chest.

"But you don't have to be afraid, me and Big Sis will protect you from it!"

Forbes had no idea what the girl was talking about, but he patted her on the shoulders, and gently pulled himself free from her grasp.

"Look, Illococoo, you don't have to worry about me. Konrad's got one final surprise for the Reconquista and Gallia, and after that Tristain's enemies will be no more."

He reached down and wiped a tear off the dragon-girl's face with his trigger finger.

"Now, you go back to bed, and when Big Sis wakes up we'll all go to breakfast together, `kay?"

That caused Illococoo to brighten up and smile.

"Okay! I'll see you later Staff Sergeant Josh Forbes!"

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then grabbed the half-eaten bread loaf and pranced back down the hall to Tabitha's room. Forbes shook his head as he shouldered his rifle.

"This place is nuts."

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristainia Palace Main Courtyard, 0430 hours local time)<strong>

Vasya stood at the command cupola of his T-55 and watched as the Soviet tank effortlessly maneuvered into a defensive position in front of a sweeping set of steps that led up to the palace. He spoke into his mic.

"Alright, full stop!"

The Royal Guard driving the tank complied, and Vasya looked up. At the top was the cage that held the enemy monarch, based off the location the Soviet officer could only imagine what sort of spectacle his friend Konrad had in store. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the whine turbine engines, and he saw another tracked vehicle sidle up next to his T-55. This armored IFV was sleek with blocks of modular armor covering its flanks, it too effortlessly took up a defensive position. Its turret rotated to cover a cone-shaped field of fire directly in front of the stairs, and Vasya heard a familiar voice in his headset.

"T-15 in place and ready, Comrade Captain."

He smiled and keyed the mic on his helmet.

"Understood, Comrade Prapor, hold position."

Vasya heard a thumping noise combined with a droning roar, and looked up to see the Mil-24 Hind flying overhead. The Soviet officer wondered just what his friend was planning, that he had so much firepower on display. Movement caught his eyes, a set of double doors on the far side of the courtyard swung open, and dozens of Royal Guards armed with rifles and poleaxes marched through the gates, followed by a column of prisoners flanked by more guards with lit torches. The Hind gunship buzzed by the sombre procession, and suddenly Vasya understood. This display was to cow the prisoners into compliance, but he still wondered what Konrad was up to.

* * *

><p>King Jozef was awakened from his dreamless fugue-like state by someone backhanding him. At least he thought it was, he felt his face move, but there was no feeling to the slap. He opened his eyes and for a moment could only see the pink sky as dawn broke. As his eyes focused he saw that he was still shackled to a metal stockade, inside a crude metal cage. He then heard a voice.<p>

"King Jozef, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes."

The king tried to focus, but all he could see was a dark figure in front of him.

"I need you to be awake for this, your Majesty."

The sarcastic inflection on his honorific told Jozef who the person was. John Konrad, the hated leader of the Outworlders. Jozef looked around him, and saw that the Princess Henrietta was noticeably absent. Konrad held a scroll in his hands.

"King Jozef, know that before I decide your fate, that there are about a hundred survivors of Dunkerque, they are now my prisoners. You know fully well that I have it in my power to summarily execute all of them, for their war crimes."

Konrad paused.

"Or, I can spare your men's lives, if you comply with my demands."

He unfurled the scroll and held it up in front of Jozef's face, so he could read it. The king's eyes widened as he understood the implications of the scroll's contents. He heard Konrad's voice again.

"Well, your Majesty? Somebody has to pay for your crimes, who will it be?"

Jozef was silent, weighing the words on the parchment. Finally he spoke.

"But...you know of the Void in my heart, and yet you offer me this?"

Konrad rolled up the scroll, and came around to face the king.

"Let me tell you a story, you Majesty. Long ago, in the far away land that I and my men hailed from, we were all trapped together in a sand swept hellhole. In that hellhole we attempted to save the civilians, the commoners, if you will. But it was a fool's errand, the storms trapped us, and many died. Then, the chain of command broke down, and my men mutinied against me."

He shook his head.

"A foolish thing to do, in a place like that."

Konrad continued.

"In the end the soldiers loyal to me prevailed, and captured my erstwhile subordinates. These subordinates were my men, but the rebelled against me, turning the Damned 33rd against one another into a fratricide. When they were finally defeated, I knew what had to be done."

He paused and lowered his head.

"I fervently wished that was some other way, but discipline had to be re-established if the men were to fall back into line, an example had to be made. If I hadn't, then their men and my men would have continued to turn on each other like wild dogs."

Konrad looked up, his hazel eyes hardening.

"I knew that decision would damn me, but it would save many lives in the process. Now, the question remains, your Majesty, would you do the same?"

After a long period of silence, King Jozef finally nodded.

With that, Konrad turned to the two soldiers at his side. One, Jozef recognized as Sir Crosby, the chevalier in black and white armor. The other was a man with a shaved head wearing the same sand-colored clothes with odd geometric patterns in them. The two soldiers removed the chains on his stockade, and opened the yoke. Jozef pulled himself up slowly, knowing that his muscles were stiff from the imprisonment but he was still unable to feel it. He walked slowly to the balcony and saw the mass of Gallian prisoners that were the survivors of Dunkerque.

One of the prisoners at the front closest to the stairs looked up and saw his king. King Jozef of Gallia stood there at the balcony, but was a far cry from the monarch they saw in Dunkerque. His regal vestments were in tatters, his beard scraggly and overgrown, and his hair whose hue determined him to be of royal descent of matted and filthy. Still it gladdened the prisoner's heart to see his king, and he let out a shout of joy. It was carried throughout the throne of prisoners, and for a brief moment the entire courtyard was filled with the deafening cries of the prisoners chanting their king's name.

Then, it was abruptly halted by a loud crack, now familiar to all the Gallians, as the massive cannon sat smoking on one of the Outworlder's siege engines after it fired a warning shot over their heads. When silence again reigned, Colonel John Konrad stepped forward. As he surveyed the crowd, he the same small voice echoing again in Konrad's mind.

_This is all your fault..._

He cleared his head and spoke in a loud voice.

"Behold, men of Gallia, behold your king, Jozef of Gallia!"

The crowd began to hiss and boo, yelling epithets at the hated leader of the Outworlders, only to be silenced again by another burst from the SGMT on Vasya's tank. Konrad continued.

"Your monarch has something he wishes to tell all of you."

With that, Konrad stepped back, and King Jozef cleared his throat, and spoke in a loud voice that carried from one end of the courtyard to the other.

"Men...my nobles, my footmen, my soldiers-of-fortune...All of you are guilty. Guilty of war crimes committed in the capturing of Dunkerque."

There was remonstrations and shouts of denial, but they were silenced when the king raised his hand. He continued.

"Yes, you are all guilty, guilty of murder...rape...pillaging...and for the deaths of ten thousand innocent men, women and children."

He looked out to the prisoners, and saw shame building in their eyes.

"But these crimes are not yours alone, men. All of these war crimes were committed by you, on my orders. Such crimes merit dire punishment, and by following my orders you have condemned yourselves to death. Now, John Konrad, the leader of the Outworlders and the one who orchestrated our downfall, has given me another alternative. One that will see you all spared the executioner's block."

He held up a scroll, one that bore his signature.

"Let all of you witness, that I, King Jozef of Gallia, hereby assume all responsibility for the illegal and unwarranted attack on Tristain's sovereignty, and for the war crimes committed in the capture of Dunkerque. With my signature on this charter I show that even a king must obey the laws of Brimir and man. And for those crimes I am willing to be judged."

He turned back to Konrad, and saw the man nod to his two subordinates.

"Crosby, Forbes, secure the prisoner to the cage."

Both NCO's looked questioningly at Konrad, but complied. Crosby took the shackles that bound Jozef's wrists and secured them to the upper bars on the metal cage, while Forbes looped chains around the king's ankles and back through the cage bars. When Forbes stood up he heard Konrad's voice again.

"Sergeant, now hand me a Willy Pete."

Forbes turned to face Konrad, and his eyes widened as he now understood what the colonel intended to do. Konrad turned his gaze from the king to Forbes.

"Staff Sergeant Forbes, I said I will take your last WP grenade, now. That's an order, sergeant."

Forbes straightened up.

"Yes, sir!"

Crisply he pulled opened one of the pouches on his assault vest and pulled out a cylindrical grenade, then handed it to his CO.

"Thank you, sergeant. That will be all. Dismissed."

Forbes saluted and left without another word. Konrad watched the sergeant leave, then looked over to Crosby. The stoic Zulu Squad sergeant's face was unreadable, but he knew the emotional turmoil that boiled beneath the surface.

"You too, are dismissed, Sgt. Crosby. I can handle it from here."

Crosby saluted and left. Konrad watched the two NCO's disappear back into the palace, then turned his attention back to King Jozef.

"Do you know what this is, your Majesty?"

When the Gallian monarch shook his head, Konrad continued.

"This is a grenade, an explosive device that harnesses the power of that unquenchable hellfire that decimated your Gallian militia and destroyed the fortress of Dunkerque."

Jozef's eyes betray nothing as he spoke.

"If it burns me maybe I will feel something, Just spare my men."

Konrad nodded, but felt revulsion in his stomach as he knew what had to be done. He turned to the crowd, now spellbound as they gazed at their monarch hanging from the cage like a slab of meat. He called out in a loud voice.

"Thus is the fate of all who commit war crimes against Tristain and her subjects."

Konrad reached down and pulled the pin on the WP grenade. His eyes rested on King Jozef.

"May Brimir have mercy on your soul, Jozef of Gallia."

The colonel released the catch on the grenade, and rolled it, where it came to rest at Jozef's feet. The grenade detonated, spewing bright blossoms of burning white light, engulfing the chained figure in fire. For a miraculous moment, the Gallians saw that their monarch did not react, but sat there silently as the fire consumed him.

Jozef was disappointed as he blinked away the after images from the bright light. He could smell the chemical tang of the smoke from the Dragon's Fire, he thought he could smell his flesh burning, but still he could still feel nothing. Even in death, King Jozef of Gallia was denied his heart's desire. His thoughts drifted off, and in his final moments he recalled earlier memories, times when his brother was still alive and they were playing together as children.

Then, he felt a gentle warming sensation in his heart, the bittersweet pang of memories. What was this, he thought to himself, could it be? Then like a deluge of water bursting from a dam all his old memories rushed to the surface, and with them an overwhelming flood of feelings.

Jozef felt happiness and joy at those memories of his childhood, then he felt sadness when remembering the passing of his father. He felt jealousy and anger at recollection of his brother being anointed king, and felt revulsion at the memories of Dunkerque. Finally, he felt horror and self-loathing at the slaying of his saintly brother by his own hand. All of this Jozef felt in the span of a fraction of a second, and he smiled to himself.

"I feel..."

Then, as quickly as they came, the memories and their sensations were abruptly swept aside as an excruciating pain permeated throughout his entire being. He felt the fire burning his flesh, the cords of his muscle, even felt the marrow in his bones as they cooked in the intense heat of the Dragon's Fire.

"I feel...burning...I burn...It burns! Oh Merciful Brimir IT BURNS!"

None save Konrad heard him, the Gallian prisoners stood stunned as they watched their leader being burned alive. Konrad, for his part, felt disgust, and a painful memory of Dubai was resurfacing in his mind as he watched the prisoners. Just like the 'Damned 33rd' after the mutinous officers were executed, he thought. After Jozef's cries were muted, and the body disintegrated in the fire, one by one the Gallian soldiers fell to their knees in supplication. As terrible as it was, the execution was effective.

* * *

><p>Nearly every Guard in the palace was standing watch over the prisoners, so nobody noticed a pair of cloaked figures standing in the darkened corner of the main gate. One of the figures held a wand in her hand upraised. Sheffield, having cast the spell of Recall, smiled to herself.<p>

"Well, at least the fool felt something before he died. Still, I never suspected Konrad to be that brutal. It's a shame we didn't have him on the Reconquista's side from the beginning. Things would have turned out much differently."

She looked over to the other cloaked figure, Fouquet, who was less than enthused.

"Come now, my dear Matilda. Now the war is over."

She turned to leave.

"Let us be off to Albion and lick our wounds, before we make our next move."

Fouquet nodded.

"You mean?"

Sheffield looked back at the cage and the burning bundle of bones.

"Yes, for once you were right. Trying to destroy the Outworlders outright was folly. When the time comes we will approach Konrad and see if diplomacy will win him over, especially since we still have our ace in the hole."

The thief's eyes widened.

"What do you...wait! We promised to destroy it, we must fulfill Cromwell's wishes!"

A wicked smile crossed Sheffield's lips.

"All in due time, first we must make this Konrad see reason. Then we will destroy it..."

_(AN: And thus passes the hubris of Jozef, who found redemption in death, albeit a very messy one. The same goes for Don Chesare, Garro did warn him against trying to harm his friends, and he paid for it dearly. For those who say a Speees Mahreen can't tear a man limb from limb, in one of the short stories of the Horus Heresy one of the remembrancers recalls seeing a Son of Horus doing exactly that to a loyalist human._

_On another note this chapter was very difficult to write. One of my betas remarked that this chapter was horrific, but perfectly captured the essence of Spec Ops: The Line. Don't worry, Konrad and the 33rd will now have to answer for their crimes, there will be one or two interlude chapters, and then comes their Crucible. _

_And, let's not forget that Sheffield is still on the scene, what sort of mischief will she get into? Let's hope she's more genre savvy than Cromwell, or Jozef...Until then!)_


	159. Rules of Engagement

_(AN: So sorry for the delay in getting this out, I've been traveling again for work hopping back and forth across the pond. Currently I'm sitting in a hotel close to the Long Beach convention center, and the lovely weather almost makes up for the horrid driving conditions. I've driven in Chicago, Dallas, and even in Paris wasn't this bad. My engineer from Munich who was accompanying me on this trip is a seasoned veteran of the autobahn and he about shat his uppers while I was navigating the 405. Anyways, in between breaks at the conference I took some of my own advice and skipped ahead a couple of chapters and wrote them out, and voila! The creative juices flowed like spice from Arrakis, and I got this churned this out. Hope you enjoy!)_

**(Main Gate Tristainia Palace, 1335 hours local time)**

Guilliaume's eyes widened in shock as he approached the main gate to the royal palace. He pulled back on the reigns, and as his cart slowed down the blacksmith marveled at the sight before him. Scores of soldiers, mostly Gallian mercenaries, streamed out of the gates. He was no stranger to war, having contributed to the war effort during the first battle of Tristainia, but the sight still gave Guilliaume time to pause.

The enemy soldiers were leaving without an escort or guard, filing out in small groups, docile as sheep. More to the point the blacksmith noticed every single soldier had his head bowed in defeat.

He caught the attention of one of the Royal Guards, and she walked over to the guard brandishing the famed Tristainian Henri rifle.

"State your business!"

The blacksmith reached into the pocket of his worn leather gillet and produced a folded up paper.

"I have a delivery to make..."

He gestured to the cart behind him, where a section of metal lay in the bed. It was roughly four meters long and jutted out of the blacksmith's cart. Most of it was covered in dark green paint, save for at the front end there was a patched square of dull metal that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The blacksmith continued.

"...I was commissioned to help repair the Outworlder's siege engine."

The guard glanced over to the piece of metal, then unfolded the paper and scanned its contents. Satisfied, she handed the pass back to the blacksmith.

"Very well, Monsieur Forgeron, proceed to the Spring Courtyard, ask any guard inside for directions."

The blacksmith took the reigns, but paused.

"How will I know where the Outworlders are? This piece was delivered to my shop, along with instructions on how to repair it..."

The guard gave an odd smile.

"Oh don't worry, monsieur, when you see it you'll know."

With that she left Mr. Forgeron and took her position at the gate. The stream of enemy troops had dwindled to a trickle, so the blacksmith gave the reigns a flick, and the wagon rumbled forward.

* * *

><p><strong>(Spring Courtyard)<strong>

Petya gingerly edged the T-55's throttle, and it responded in turn by slowly moving forward. The junior officer kept his eyes on the tank tread spread out before him, and felt the familiar _clunk!_ as the road wheels ran over it. When only a half of the tread was visible to Petya he eased off the throttle, and the T-55 came to a stop. He then climbed out of the driver's hatch and grabbed a length of rope coiled on the tank's hull.

It was tricky business re-attaching the tank's treads after a repair, especially in the field, but fortunately the_ Prapor_ knew all the tricks in the book. He uncoiled the rope and tied one end to the tread, then pulled the rope over the bogie wheel and rollers and tied the other end of the rope to the rear drive wheel.

Satisfied, Petya looked back at the two servants that were watching the Soviet officer with a mixture of curiosity and awe. He pointed to the back end of the tread lying on the ground.

"When you see that end come to this sprocket, signal Petya, alright?"

Both servants nodded once, so the Russian climbed back into the driver's hatch and pulled the right lever into the second position. He then engaged reverse gear, and slowly the rear drive wheel pulled the rope and tread into position. He watched the servants and mentally calculated the time it would take, in case the servants missed. But one of them waved her hands frantically at him, and Prapor eased off the throttle.

Sure enough, when Petya climbed back down he saw the back end of the tread hanging from the sprocket wheel, exactly where it needed to be. He then grabbed a fresh tread link from its place on the tank's nose, and reached into spare parts box for a couple of connecting rods.

"Good job, now go grab the heavy hammer from the other tank's toolbox!"

Petya bent down to the rear road wheel and connected the new tread link to the tread. He looked up and saw the servant girl carrying the heavy sledgehammer, albeit with difficulty. He smiled as he accepted the hammer.

"Now stand back, I don't want to hit anything other than the rod, right?"

With two strikes the _Prapor_ hammered the connecting rod in. Finally, he fitted the both ends together and secured them in place with another rod. As he made the last blow, he heard a voice behind him speak up.

"Don't forget to check the tension, Comrade _Prapor_!"

Petya turned and grinned at the newcomer.

"Looks like that you still remember how to keep your tanks in running condition, Comrade Captain!"

Captain Vasiliy Bylinkin, back in his faded tanker overalls, looked over the tank.

"A good officer must know his hardware, Petya."

He ran a loving hand over the treads.

"Great job, fits like a glove!"

The captain noticed that the damaged fender was still absent.

"What about the fender repairs?"

The Prapor pulled out his Belomor packet and shrugged.

"Sent it to blacksmith yesterday, said it would be ready today."

He struck a match and lit his _papirosa_, then exhaled the smoke.

"What, you didn't like wearing the dress uniform? And I was just getting used to saluting you on sight, Comrade Captain."

Vasya shrugged.

"Eh, I don't want it to get dirty from day to day use. After delivering the ultimatum, I didn't really see a use for wearing it."

Petya took another drag from his cigarette.

"Ah, yes I heard that the evil monarchists were defeated at Dunkerque..."

When his captain didn't respond, Petya's youthful features creased into a frown.

"Then the rumors were true, the Yankees used the white phosphorus..._Blya_, that's some heavy shit."

Vasya didn't speak for a while, and pulled out his own pack of cigarettes, going through the motions of shaking a cigarette loose and lighting it.

"I didn't think the enemy would be so foolish. And I don't really blame Comrade Colonel for using it."

He looked back at the tank.

"Our hands weren't very clean those last few months in Afghanistan either..."

The Soviet officer saw the look Petya was giving him, and smiled thinly.

"Petya, in these times it is a good thing to be a _Prapor_. It means you just have to follow orders, not make them. Konrad told me that using the Wily Pete ordnance was a bad thing, but it was only way to prevent even more bloodshed."

He shrugged.

"I think he personally blames himself for the fall of Dunkerque."

Petya didn't respond, but their silence was interrupted by the familiar high-pitched whine of an auxiliary power unit spooling up. Both Soviet soldiers looked over and saw the American helicopter's engines were powering up. Squinting his eyes against the mid-afternoon glare Vasya could vaguely make out the black and white armor of Sgt. Crosby at the controls. He heard Petya speak up over the engine's din.

"So Comrade Sergeant is going on a recon mission?"

Vasya shook his head.

"_Nyet_, I heard from Konrad that he wants _Starley_ McPherson and young teenager back at barracks, so Comrade Crosby is retrieving them."

He shrugged.

"Don't know why, war is already over though."

* * *

><p>Inside the cockpit of Bravo Zero Sgt. Crosby pulled up on the collective, watching the horizon waver as the Black Hawk slowly lifted off. Off to the side he saw the two Soviet officers conversing by the damaged T-55. As the chopper gained more altitude he could see the entire palace, with all its inhabitants scurrying back and forth like ants. Crosby could also see a long file of bodies marching out of the city, and determined they were the surrendering Gallian soldiers.<p>

He remembered his conversation with Konrad, on how effective King Jozef's execution was.

"-It was like magic, sir. Every single one of the enemy soldiers surrendered their armor and weapons, and asked to go home. It was just like-"

Konrad glanced up from the scrolls on his desk and saw his Zulu Squad sergeant pause. He finished Crosby's thoughts.

"-Just like in Dubai, after the Mutiny. Yes, sergeant I know, and it was no coincidence, either. I knew we were sitting on a powder keg, and the way I saw it I had two choices. I could give Jozef a show trial, which would result in the prisoners rioting, and probably in us responding with lethal force."

He glanced back down at his desk.

"Or, execute the man responsible for all this carnage, and spare the men. Jozef deserved to die and made an example of, if order was to be maintained."

Crosby didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded. The colonel continued writing, so the Zulu Squad sergeant cleared his throat.

"Um, sir? Was there something else, sir?"

Konrad set down the quill and rubbed his eyes.

"I-I don't know, sergeant. Something tells me that this isn't the end of it. And I feel a sense of...foreboding."

He looked up, his hazel eyes boring into Crosby.

"Have you spoken to...or rather, as that lady, the Weaver of Fate, has she spoken to you recently? Given you any indication or cryptic warnings?"

Crosby shook his head.

"Negative, sir. I haven't seen her in a while. I mean, Captain Bylinkin has seen her, that's where he got the Russian Army dress uniform from."

He chuckled to himself.

"I have no idea how she acquired it, and the captain wasn't telling."

The shadow over Konrad's face passed, and he joined Crosby in mirth.

"Then it's probably nothing. I do have orders for you, sergeant. You are to take Bravo Zero and proceed to the Vallière Estate. While there you are to retrieve Lt. McPherson and Specialist Hiraga. There's no urgency involved here, but I do want them reporting in by tomorrow. Understood?"

Crosby saluted.

"Roger that, sir!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Vallière Estate, 1800 hours local time)<strong>

It was dusk, but none of the guests at the estate of Duchess Karin de la Vallière would have known. The grand hall was brightly lit with candles and magical glowing crystals that put off brilliant hues of gold, pink and blue. It was a very special occasion, as it was the debutante ball of the Duchess's youngest daughter, and the engagement of her eldest.

As such, nobles and dignitaries from all over the duchy and Tristain were invited, and all showed up dressed in their best finery. So many guests were in attendance that the entire west lawn was filled with parked carriages. When a particularly garish carriage, bearing Germanian coat of arms, pulled up to the porte-cochère and stopped, the two household footmen sprang into action, one opening the door, the other unfolding the small steps from the carriage.

Suddenly they heard a noise, the distant chopping noise followed by a dull droning. All eyes looked up, and they could make out a black blot in the darkening sky approaching them. As it drew closer they could see small lights at the front and back that winked intermittently. The driver steadied his team of horses and glanced up nervously.

"What sort of sorcery is that?!"

One of the Vallière footmen shrugged.

"'Tis nothing, just one of the Outworlder's airships."

The other footman assisted the carriage's occupant out, a Germanian girl in her teens with bright red hair whose ample bosom was barely contained within her expensive evening gown. The double doors to the estate opened, and the head butler approached. The girl handed him a card and he read it.

"Kirche von Zerbst, schoolmate of the Young Mistress?"

The redhead gave a curtsy.

"Kirche the Fire Mage, and I wouldn't miss my dear little Louise's debutante ball for anything!"

The butler gave a small bow, and stepped aside to allow her entrance. One of the footmen approached him.

"Monsieur François! There is an Outworlder airship that approaches!"

The butler did not respond, but raised an imperious eyebrow.

"Indeed? Is it the same one that came before?"

The footman nodded.

"I believe so, sir!"

François nodded, and turned to leave.

"Then I must inform Madam. You will take over in my absence, and be sure to extend to the Outworlder every courtesy."

* * *

><p>Sgt. Crosby felt very conspicuous as he climbed the stairs to the Vallière estate. As he made his final approach he saw that the was some sort of big old fancy to do going on, the grounds were lit up by colorful lanterns and a steady stream of carriages made their way up the gravel road to the estate. After landing the Black Hawk and disembarking, Crosby could make out hundreds of guests thronging about, all dressed to the nines.<p>

He looked down at his black and white Zulu Squad armor and thought that going up the front door might have been a bad idea. He had stopped and was going to go through the servant's entrance when someone called out his name.

"Sir Crosby!"

He looked back and saw a man wearing an impeccably tailored frock coat approach. The man gave Crosby a bow, and the sergeant realized this was just one of the servants.

"Sir Crosby, please you are most welcome at this celebration! Please come with me..."

Crosby allowed the servant to guide him up the stairs and spoke up.

"So, what's the occasion?"

"Oh, it is a grand celebration, for it is not only young Mistress Louise's debut as a lady, but Madam will also be announcing the engagement of Lady Éléonore's betrothal!"

The Zulu Squad sergeant chuckled.

"Well, this oughta be good..."

But his good spirits were short-lived as Crosby entered the grand hall. It was packed with richly dressed nobles, and he could feel every head turn and every pair of eyes stare at him as he was led through the hall to the main ballroom. He passed a group of older noblewomen, and could hear them whispering among themselves.

"...what is that?"

"...is that one of the Outworlders?"

"...Brimir's Beard look at his shabby clothes..."

"...hush! Do not antagonize them I've heard their weapons are formidable!"

The footman paid no heed to the stir that Crosby was causing by his entrance and his odd clothes, but steered his guest to a large crowd in the center of the ballroom. The crowd parted, revealing the two main attractions. Crosby was initially at a loss for words.

The pinkette Louise was completely transformed, her hair was piled up into a fashionable style with a cascade of ringlets down the side, her dress was an elegant side-hooped court dress that was a light peach color with white satin trim. Her older sister Éléonore was wearing an equally elegant court dress, but in a sky blue with a darker blue trim. Both wore elbow length opera gloves in black the same color as the trim on their respective dresses.

It was then that Crosby also noticed their escorts, and suppressed a smirk. Both Saito and McPherson were dressed in suits of embroidered brocade that reminded Crosby of an old sofa, with dark tight-fitted breeches and knee-high boots. Both were sweating in heavily starched high collars and satin cravats, and both looked equally miserable. It was then that Louise caught sight of him and let out a squeal.

"Sir Crosby!"

She gathered up her skirts and ran towards him and, breaking protocol, hugged him tightly. She looked up at Crosby, her large eyes shimmering.

"Sir Crosby, I'm so happy you could make it here!"

He smiled at Louise.

"..And I'm glad to have made it, my lady."

Éléonore approached more sedately and gave a graceful curtsy.

"Sir Crosby, it is good to see you again."

She gave the pinkette a sidelong glance.

"Chibi-Louise! Remember you're a lady now, so act like one!"

Crosby ignored the brewing squabble between sisters and looked up at Lt. McPherson, who was still sweating and looking miserable. The Zulu Squad sergeant smirked.

"Sir, you and the specialist look very cute this evening."

McPherson quit fidgeting with his high collar and frowned at the sergeant.

"Not another word, sergeant, or I'll have you on latrine detail when we get back to base!"

Crosby was ready with another retort when another female voice interrupted.

"Ah my dear Louise, how cute you look!"

Both eyes turned and saw a familiar redhead make her way through the crowd. Most of the male nobles stepped aside to give Kirche passage, but were also staring at her ample cleavage on display. More than one husband got bonked on the head by his wife's fan as a result, but the redhead paid it no heed. She clasped Louise's hands in hers and gave her a friendly smile.

"And congratulations to your debut my dear!"

Louise seemed at a loss for words at her erstwhile rival's sincere words, then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"Thank you, Kirche, it means so-"

Then Kirche ruined it by turning her sights onto Louise's boyfriend.

"And Saito, you look so handsome dressed up like a noble!"

She gave the Tokyo teen a wink, which caused him to blush. Crosby saw the early warning signs of the volcano that was Mt. Louise about to erupt, so he intervened.

"So Kirche, you came all the way from the Academy to see Louise?"

The redhead spun around and smiled at Crosby.

"Ah, there is my old warhorse!"

She gave the soldier a smile.

"Now, Sir Crosby owes me a favor!"

Crosby took a step back.

"W-what? Favor?!"

Kirche covered her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a mischievous laugh.

"Fu-Fu-Fu!* Did you forget our little arrangement when Louise the Zero put those enchanted glasses on poor Saito?"

The memory came back, Crosby remembered they finally had to enlist the help of Kirche to break the hexed pimp glasses' spell. He held up a forestalling hand.

"Now wait a minute, Kirche! When you said favor I was thinking something more along the lines of 'helping you move a couch' or something!"

Kirche folded her arms in a huff.

"Hmph! What I am asking of you is a trivial matter, especially with the loss of my family heirloom the Summoned Book..."

Crosby then remembered the Summoned book, which was essentially a porno mag from the real world bound into a leather book, was destroyed when the magical pimp glasses blew up.

"Well, I guess you have me there, Kirche. So what is this favor going to entail? Remember, no carnal knowledge!"

The redhead gave Crosby a salacious grin.

"Oh of course not! That comes later, my dear old war horse! Actually all I need is to stay far away from Prince Albrecht of Germania."

She looked around.

"Germania is closely allied with Tristian, and he never turns down an opportunity to attend parties. I'm sure he's here."

Kirche then turned and gave Crosby a wink.

"...And you, my handsome old war horse, are going to help me!"

Before Crosby could respond she pulled him onto the dance floor. The musicians in their alcove began playing a slow-paced minuet, and Crosby struggled to keep up with the busty redhead. He fervently wished that he was dressed better, or at least not in so distinctive clothes. Everyone on the dance floor stared at him, and he felt very self-conscious. It didn't help that he was trying to keep in step with Kirche, an exercise that required him to glance down occasionally and not stare at her ample cleavage.

Crosby glanced over the surrounding crowd and saw that at at least he was in a good company. Making their way through the crowd, Éléonore and Lt. McPherson stepped onto the dance floor. As the young officer put his right hand on her back, Éléonore clasped his left hand in her right and looked into his eyes.

"Remember what I've taught you, John?"

McPherson glanced around nervously.

"Yeah, I suppose. No time like the present..."

She smiled at him.

"Relax, follow my lead and try not to step on my toes!"

The lieutenant barely managed to nod before the musicians changed their tune.

Led by Éléonore, the young couple started to waltz. After a few circles McPherson threw a quick glance down, just in time to see that his left foot was about to ruin his dance partner's evening dress. The eldest Valliere daughter sighed lightly as she noticed it.

"John, do you know what this event means to me?"

McPherson gulped.

"Y-yes... I think."

Eleonore put on her warmest smile as she answered in a soft voice.

"Then it's suffice to say that anyone who ruin it would spend remainder of this night with Frieda."

The smile turned into shark-like grin.

"Or better to say, INSIDE Frieda!"

Crosby barely held a laugh when he saw his officer turning white, only to flush as he saw Éléonore let out a light laugh.

"Oh John, you're so easy to tease!"

Then Crosby saw a bright pink head of hair obscuring the couple, indicating that Louise had also led her beau onto the dance floor. The two teens seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the sergeant couldn't help but smile at the sight of the two young love birds.

Suddenly, he heard an accented voice speak up.

"Excuse me, _mein herr_?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant looked up and saw a portly man with a flushed face and muttonchop whiskers smiling at Kirche.

"Ah, Miss Zerbst you look even more lovely than the last time we met!"

He gave the redhead a low bow.

"It would do me great pleasure if you would dance the next waltz with me!"

Kirche gave a demure smile and bowed.

"You do me great honor, your Excellency, but I'm afraid my dance card is full."

She looked around.

"But fear not, there are many young ladies here in need of a dance partner!"

Then the tempo of the music picked up, and Kirche led Crosby away before the prince could respond.

"I don't know what you're complaining about, the guy seems nice enough."

Kirche gave a dismissive sniff.

"He is a complete bore and at the last social occasion where we met all he did was stuff his face with food and stare at my chest."

Crosby was about to say that the reason that the prince, or any red-blooded male for that matter, was staring at Kirche's chest it was because half of it was spilled out and on display, but was interrupted by someone clearing her throat.

Both Crosby and Kirche turned to see Duchess Karin de la Vallière standing there. The duchess was wearing an elegant backless evening gown in dark purple with a lighter purple ermine wrap. Like her daughters the duchess's hair was piled up into an elegant and, in Crosby's reckoning, impractical hairdo. But it had the overall effect of giving her the air of dignified beauty. Not for the first or last time the sergeant remarked that Louise's mother was a very attractive lady. Karin's eyes softened for a moment when her gaze fell on him, and Crosby suddenly felt very hot in his armor. Then the duchess's eyes hardened as they fell on Kirche, who sensibly made a hasty curtsy.

"Kirche von Zerbst, is it not?"

The redhead blushed and nodded.

"It is, Duchess Vallière."

Karin nodded.

"You are a classmate of my little Louise, at the Academy of Magic?"

Again, Kirche nodded.

"Also true, Duchess-"

Louise's mother interrupted her by holding up a hand.

"Please, you may call me Karin, if you are friends with Louise then you are practically family."

She looked back at Crosby and then directed her piercing gaze to Kirche.

"I'm afraid I must steal you partner away, Miss Zerbst. You don't object, do you?"

If Kirche had any objections, she knew better than to voice them. The withering glare Karin was giving her reinforced that. Crosby watched as the redhead excused herself and disappeared back into the crowd. The duchess then took Crosby's hand.

"Come, there is a matter of great importance that I must speak to you about."

She then led Crosby through the crowd, pausing only to inform the head butler about opening the next case of champagne. The sergeant had no idea what this matter of great importance was, and had the same sense of foreboding as he followed the duchess through several double doors and corridors. Finally she opened the door to her study and let him in. Crosby took in all the details of the study, not noticing that Karin closed the door behind them. Oblivious, the sergeant spoke up.

"So, what's this important matter you wanted to-"

But that's as far as the Zulu Squad sergeant got, for the second time that evening he was enveloped in a tight embrace, this time by Karin herself. The force of which caused Crosby to lose his balance, and he fell backwards onto a chaise lounge, with the duchess on top of him. She, for one, didn't seem to care, and she smiled at him as she caressed his cheek.

"This is a truly joyous day, Sir Crosby, for not only are my two daughters engaged, but you have come back to me!"

Crosby could feel the duchess pushing herself against him, and he struggled in her grasp. He was used to fending off the advances of teenagers like Kirche, but the duchess was a grown woman and considerably stronger. The duchess's cleavage filled his vision as she advanced in for the kill, in his haste Crosby tried to pull himself up and blindly reached for something to pull himself up. His hand grabbed something soft and he saw Karin's eyes widened with shock, and he realized that he had grabbed her rump by mistake. The sergeant immediately let go and started babbling excuses.

"Oops! Ah, sorry about that I didn't know what I was grabbing..."

But, rather than slap him, the duchess just blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Oh, Sir Crosby you're so forward!"

She playfully gave him a light swat on his armored shoulder.

"But I didn't tell to you stop groping me!"

The sergeant saw the look the duchess was giving him, and knew that look. She leaned in, her eyes glittering in the candlelight, and closed her eyes as her lips descended onto Crosby's.

Then, the door flew open and Éléonore stormed in a huff.

"Mama! Chibi Louise is making a scene again! It started when that hussy Kirche wanted to dance with Saito, and-"

Then Éléonore stopped as her gaze fell on Crosby lying on his back, with her mother on top of him in a compromising position. The girl's eyes widened and she immediately spun around, blushing beet red with embarrassment.

"Mama! I'm so sorry! Please forgive the intrusion!"

* * *

><p>Glossary and Notes:<p>

Fu-Fu-Fu: taken from the tropes page this is an onomatopoeia in Japanese manga (usually written "ホホホ" or "ほほほ" or sometimes "お~~ほほほ") representing a high-pitched, somewhat artificial form of refined feminine laughter, and is typically associated with haughty, stuck-up women. Occasionally it also means a mischievous laughter, as in the case with Kirche.

_(AN: Nothing will quite get the taste of Wily Pete out of your mouth like some good ol' fashioned Karinosby ship-teasing! Proving that Duchess Karin really is just a teenager at heart._

_Unfortunately, this little bit of levity is all we're going to have for the near future, now comes unpleasant business of the the 33rd's Crucible. Just a fair warning, only a select few of the members of the 33rd will be suffering their Crucible and each will have a chapter dedicated to it. They won't be very long chapters, but I promise they will be a compelling read. I should have the first one up soon, so until then don't touch that dial!)_


	160. Konrad's Crucible

_"Where do bad folks go when they die?_

_They don't go to heaven where the angels fly_

_They go to the lake of fire and fry_

_Won't see them again 'till the fourth of July..."_

-Kurt Cobain

* * *

><p><strong>(Tristiania Palace, Royal Guest Quarters, 2200 hours local time)<strong>

Konrad lay in his bed, exhausted after the long day, but unable, or unwilling to sleep. For some reason that eluded him he knew that if he slept then the darkness that loomed on the edge of his consciousness would surface, and an irrational fear of the dark haunted Konrad. At some level he knew that some terrible fate awaited him as soon as he fell asleep, and He struggled to stay awake, and even debated getting up and making another pot of coffee. But then the weariness in him told Konrad that he just wanted this over with, that there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

The colonel's eyelids fluttered close, and when he opened them he saw her. The lady, the Beautiful Lady with green hair who appeared to him after he ate his M9 in Dubai, was standing at the foot of his bed. She spoke in that same soft melodious voice he remembered.

**_"It is time, John Konrad."_**

He felt an icy stab of foreboding, but still asked.

"Time for what?"

The Lady gave a small, sad smile.

**_"But you already know. It is time for you to face your demons, John Konrad."_**

She seemed to sense his discomfort.

**_"Fear not, I have absolute faith that you will pass. This Crucible will be the last test that you face; if you pass you will obtain absolution, and then the peace you desired so much in life."_**

The Lady looked directly at Konrad.

_**"Are you ready, John Konrad?"**_

When the colonel nodded, she raised her hand, and snapped her fingers.

In a flash Konrad was lying on his bed, this time in his old penthouse at the Burj Khalifa tower in Dubai. A howling wind buffets the tower, and for a moment the colonel thought it was the sandstorms. When he sat up, his blood froze. The winds were whipping up vast flaming cyclones, the entire city of Dubai seemed to burn in a sea of fire.

At the foot of his bed were five figures, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw that they were corpses, all badly burned. One of them shambled forward, its face a grinning rictus of burned skin and charred bone, its joints crackled from rigor mortis with every step it took. Ironically enough, it was wearing a US Army dress uniform, and Konrad saw a silver oak leave cluster insignia on collar.

It threw a mocking salute, and Konrad smelled the rich decaying smell of death as the creature's jaws worked. Then he heard a voice over the cacophonous wind, a voice that sounded like a ghostly wind wheezing from an ancient tomb. A voice Konrad also recognized.

"Welcome to Hell, sir."

Konrad's eyes widened with realization and fright.

"Long? David Long? No...It can't be..."

Then there was a giant roar, and a shadow appeared in the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse. The glass shattered, pelting him with broken shards of glass, and a massive dark form entered the atrium. Konrad wiped blood from his eyes and looked up. A massive black dragon with glowing red eyes loomed over him. The dragon opened its jaws and spoke in a sinister hiss.

**"We've been exssssspecting you, John Konrad."**

The dragon stared down at Konrad with his burning eyes, then it beckon him closer with one of his claws.

**"Come, now John Konrad. Surely you recognisssssssse your Command Ssssssquad."**

The other four corpses stood at attention. One of them, wearing tattered digital ACU's with a captain's rank on his chest, stepped forward and hissed in a rasping but also familiar voice.

"Deep down, you knew we all were going to end up here."

Konrad tried to avert his eyes.

"Captain Hammond? Chris? No, no I never..."

Lt. Col. Long's corpse wheezed again as its jaws worked and its burnt and yellowed teeth chattered.

"Yes. We're damned, sir. It's only fitting that you join us in damnation."

Konrad's eyes widened as the revenant continued.

"You had us executed, sir. Or don't you remember?"

The voice, at once small but also painfully nagging like a splinter, now roared in Konrad's head.

_This is all your fault..._

Suddenly, the room blurred, and he was at Base Alpha, the command post for the Gate. He was back in his dress uniform, in conference room of a ruined skyscraper. He stood at a podium, facing a crowd of soldiers. Some were seated in chairs, others were standing, crowding around the perimeter of the hall. All eyes were locked onto the five figures in the front of the room; five men bound to chairs. Some of the 33rd had looks of absolute hatred in their eyes, others, horror or pity.

Konrad knew the gravity of the situation. These were the men who had led the mutiny against him, the men who had orchestrated the civil war that had caused so much death and suffering. They were traitors, rebels, guilty of the highest crime against the state or the army. But he felt no anger towards them, no hatred. Konrad felt only deep, raw anguish, a bitterness that seemed to eat at his very soul. He felt broken, hollow. In a way, it was bitterly ironic. Even though he had technically 'won,' Konrad felt absolutely defeated. Because these men, these leaders of the Mutiny, were also his command squad, men he used to rely on as adjuncts, and even friends.

Konrad felt revulsion as he heard his own voice speak.

"Men of the 33rd, you know why you are here."

"The mutineers have been defeated. I know that these last few days have been dark, but you must take heart, for it is always darkest before the dawn breaks."

He turned to the five men.

"...But in the meantime there is one final loose end that needs addressing. These are the leaders of this mutiny, they are traitors, guilty of the highest of crimes against the state and the Army."

Even as he heard himself speak, Konrad knew the falsehoods he tried to pass off as truth.

"In past wars during extreme circumstances, and these certainly qualify, the United States Army doesn't mince words about the fate of traitors. Traitors were executed by the harshest methods available at the time..."

Konrad looked again at the men before him. Men who he had fought with, bled with, ate, slept, and lived with. Men who he had trusted with his life. Chris Hammond, who had saved so many lives in Afghanistan, or Ivan Wright, who Konrad had always counted among his best field officers. Jeff Gilderstern, who had kept him accurately informed of the goings on in the city. Ken Taylor, who had stood so firmly by his side when the decision was made to defy the Pentagon and stay in Dubai.

Lastly there was Lt. Colonel David Long, his best friend and right hand man, his confidant and most trusted advisor, the man whom Konrad's own son Jeremy called Uncle Dave, the man who broke bread with Konrad at Thanksgiving dinner. Long was also the man who led the Mutiny against him. The man who utterly betrayed Konrad, and ironically the one Konrad didn't blame at all.

He nodded to the soldiers behind the captive officers, who removed the gags from the bound men's mouths. Konrad turned and spoke directly to his erstwhile Command Staff.

"As you know, the penalty for your actions is death. I am prepared to be lenient, but that depends on your cooperation."

Konrad nodded to the two soldiers off to the side, who opened a pair of side doors. Out marched five men wearing EOD armor and helmets, each carrying a small green crate with warning signs stenciled in the side.

As they each set their box down, the writing became clear: WARNING: WHITE PHOSPHORUS ORDNANCE!

The conference room became deathly silent. All five bound men's eyes were locked onto the boxes and their lethal contents.

"You know what this is, gentlemen. We can avoid such... unpleasantness if you all renounce your actions in the Mutiny and admit your wrongdoing."

The captive mutineers remained silent. Konrad could feel the tension in the air, as invasive and omnipresent as the sand.

"I'm only going to make this offer once, admit your wrongdoing, or face the the wrath of Wily Pete."

Lt. Col. David Long glared contemptuously at Konrad.

"This is all your fault, John. Not ours."

Captain Wright spoke up next.

"We're not to blame, sir. You are."

Chris Hammond struggled to speak. Wounded at the airfield, he had to be tied around the chest to keep him upright in his chair.

"No...," he said, shaking his head vigorously, "No..."

Jeff Gilderstern looked resigned to his fate.

"Fuck it. Lets just get this over with." He mumbled, almost to himself.

Ken Taylor looked Konrad directly in the eye, his face ablaze with undisguised contempt. He spat on the floor and turned away.

Long continued to glare at Konrad.

"I know now that it was folly to stay here, hubris to think we could lead a convoy out of Dubai and save the civilians. That, I could have forgiven you, Colonel. But to stay here? It's suicide."

Konrad heard himself speaking again.

"For the last time Dave, we can't leave these people to die!"

"You think you can save these people? You think you can be the hero, is that it?"

Long jerked his head around.

"Look around you, John. Does this look like the handiwork of a hero? Do the things you've done...the things we've all done, on your orders, are those things that a hero would do?"

He shook his head.

"This city is a lost cause, John. The people are dying. Your men...our men, are dying. There were over 10,000 people alive in Dubai when we arrived. 1,800 of them are now rotting in the desert. Half of the 33rd are are swinging from lampposts or buried under the sand, and the other half are killing each other and emptying mags into civilians, all on your orders! The last straw was that these civilians...the refugees... them worshiping you as a god!"

Konrad felt himself shaking his head, although he knew the truth.

"Don't lie to me, John! I know you get off on that power trip! I've seen the cult of personality they've built around their God and Savior, John Konrad. They think their gods abandoned them, so they've replaced their gods with you! They've even made effigies of you! For that I cannot and will not forgive you, when it became clear to me and the rest of your command staff that you wouldn't abandon your 'followers', we took matters into our own hands."

He looked around him.

"The results of which, well...you know."

Lt. Colonel Long sighed, almost in a defeated manner.

"I will not renounce my actions, Colonel. I refuse to apologize for doing what needed to be done. I can't stop you now, but you're the one who has to live with it. And if that means we burn for holding to our code as officers, then so be it."

Again, Konrad heard himself speak, his stoic face crumbling as the horror bled from his words.

"Goddamnit Dave don't make me do this! Please!"

Long looked back at him with something almost like pity.

"You still don't get it, do you John? This isn't about us making a choice. It is about _**you**_ making a choice."

Konrad stared back at him. He could feel sweat forming on his forehead, and for once it wasn't the heat.

The entire room went silent. Konrad managed to regain his composure. He motioned to the closest EOD trooper and nodded. Nobody had volunteered for the job, so the men had drawn straws. The trooper shakily opened each box and placed the WP shell under each of the mutinous officer's chairs. He then walked over to Konrad and handed him a detonator. Konrad felt his own hand shaking as he held the detonator in his hand, and heard himself speak in a rapid, frantic manner.

"Please...please don't make me do this...I beg of you."

Silence greeted the colonel, and he exploded in a combination of fury and frustration.

"I don't want to do this! Renounce the damn Mutiny and admit your wrongdoing!"

Ken Taylor raised his head and looked at Konrad defiantly. When he finally spoke, his voice carried throughout the conference room, loud and steady.

"I am an American soldier. I am a warrior and a member of a team. I serve the people of the United States and live the Army values..."

Wright joined in.

"...I will always place the mission first..."

Hammond struggled to speak up.

"...I-I will never accept defeat..."

A tear fell from Captain Gilderstern's cheek, but his eyes betrayed no fear as he continued.

"...I will never quit..."

Long held his head up high and faced the audience as he joined in.

"...I will never leave a fallen comrade."

Konrad felt his facade begin to crumble. The audience was watching, transfixed, as the mutineers continued in unison, led by Lt. Colonel Long.

"I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills. I always maintain my arms, equipment, and myself. I am an expert and a professional. I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States in close combat. I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life..."

Konrad felt sick to his stomach. For the first time, the reality of the situation hit him. He was no hero. He had made himself the villain of his own story. He felt the weight of his actions and decisions and firmly on his shoulders. But there was no turning back now, he had made his decision and now he had to live with it. He heard the leader of the mutineers, his adjunct, and a man he once considered closer than a brother, finish in a soft but forceful voice.

"I _**am**_ an American soldier."

Konrad closed his eyes and pushed the red button on the detonator, and at that moment he knew why he was damned. He opened his eyes, and saw the five burned corpses, still standing in front of him at attention, their hollow eye sockets glaring accusingly at him. The black dragon rumbled at Konrad.

**"Come closssser, Konrad, I want you to see this."**

Konrad looked down, now he was standing in the ruined streets of Dubai, wracked by the firestorm. He saw figures writhing in the flames, and strangely he could see every face and knew each of the soldiers by name. Every soldier in the 33rd, damned by his orders.

"No..."

He closed his eyes, but he could hear the dragon's terrible voice compelling him.

**"Open your eyesssss, John Konrad! Look upon your handiwork! Thesssssse men are damned to an eternity of tormentssssss, all because they followed orderssssss. Orderssss that you gave."**

Then the voice came back, even more forceful than before.

_THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!_

The creature bared its teeth, as if smiling mockingly.

**"And yet Fate sssssent you to a nissssssse idyllic world where essssscaped punishment."**

Konrad heard a rumble like an earthquake shaking the burning streets, and it finally dawned on him that the creature was laughing at him.

**"Why, you won even the heart of a girl-ruler...All the while your men sssssssuffer damnation! Why, they have truly earned the title of the 'Damned 33rd'!"**

Konrad closed his eyes again, now he was back in his penthouse. He looked over to the table and saw his M9 there. The dragon appeared on Konrad's veranda, and poked it's giant head into his kitchen.

**"You have two choicesssss, Konrad. You can embrace the pain, or end it all now. If you end it all now, the pain goes away..."**

Konrad looked down at the gun, enticed by the dragon's words. After all, he had already ended his life with his gun, this wouldn't be any more different...

But, a small part of Konrad didn't want to. Then the voice, like a broken record, thundered in his ears, repeating in unison to the pounding pulse in his head.

_ALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULT..._

He felt cold metal as he pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple. Then, he hesitated, and cried out in a loud voice.

"Stop!"

The M9 dropped from his temple, and slipped from his fingers. It fell and shattered like glass on the kitchen floor. Konrad lowered his head in utter defeat.

"Please, stop. I-I will accept responsibility."

The dragon leaned forward.

**"You will acsssssssept responsibility? You know what that meanssssss, don't you John Konrad?"**

"My men don't deserve to be damned for following my orders. If sparing them means burning in Hell for my actions, then so be it."

The dragon let out another taunting laugh.

**"Hell? Burn? Thesssssse are but wordsssss, John Konrad. The reality is much, much worsssssssse. And you will never ssssseee the girl again."**

In that moment Konrad knew what he was getting into. He knew the truth of what the demon or dragon or whatever it was spoke, but Konrad also knew that the greatest torment wouldn't be the fire or physical torture. The greatest torment would be that he will never see Henrietta again, he would never have the opportunity to tell her how he felt.

That, he felt, would torment him for all eternity more than any fire, the torment of 'if only'. If only he had one more day, one more hour, even one minute he could accomplish so much. But it was too late now. Far too late to do anything but take responsibility and accept his eternal punishment. He spoke in a defeated voice.

"I-I know…but what I did was unforgivable. I take full responsibility for what happened in Dubai."

Then in a flash he felt the fire burn him, but it was not a normal fire. This supernatural fire burned the very fibers of his being, and just when he though the pain would ebb away, it increased in crescendo. All the while Konrad repeated over, and over.

"It was all my fault..."

Just as the fire burned his skin without ever consuming it, Konrad felt another wave of pain, this time it was emotional. He felt the aching loss of never seeing his friends, or Henrietta again, and that pain cut him to the fiber of his very being. And yet, through the haze of the pain, Konrad felt resigned to his fate. He knew he deserved this, that back in Helkeginia he was living on borrowed time. This place would be his reminder of his failures, the burning effigy of the tower a monument to his sins...

Then, just as quickly, the fire disappeared, and he found himself back in his room, faced with the Beautiful Lady. His being still wracked from the burning fire, his skin was feverish and his head throbbed. The Lady slowly strode over to him, the silky folds of her dress billowed around him as she reached out towards him. Konrad made it two steps before he collapsed to his knees and wept. When his skin touched her gossamer-thin raiment, the pain subsided, and he felt a soft hand stroking his head. He looked up and saw the Lady was smiling at him.

**_"It is done. You accepted responsibility for your actions, and you have passed your Crucible. You will now be able to know peace." _**

He didn't answer, but the tears of relief and regret continued to fall, while the hand continued to caress him. Konrad didn't even realize that he was back in his own bed, or how long he had been there. For her part Princess Henrietta didn't know the reasons why Konrad cried in his sleep, but she continued to cradle his head until the tears subsided.

_(AN: So, one down, and still more to go. This was actually pretty easy as I had this sketched out very early one, with the exception of the flashback to Dubai, many thanks to Deathmaster98 for his input on that. For those who are curious the credo that the command staff recited is the Soldier's Creed, from the US Army. The next Crucible might take a few more days, but be patient and I promise it will be worth it!)_


	161. Crosby's Crucible

_"Don't get too close_  
><em>It's dark inside<em>  
><em>It's where my demons hide<em>  
><em>It's where my demons hide..."<em>

-Imagine Dragons

_"Dreams are true while they last,_

_and do we not live in dreams?"_

-Alfred Tennyson

* * *

><p><strong>(The Vallière Estate, 2230 hours local time)<strong>

Sgt. Crosby was exhausted, and yet sleep eluded him. He had spent the better part of the evening running interference between Kirche and Louise, trying to keep the redhead from provoking the pinkette, and also fending off the advances of Duchess Karin. Finally, as the evening drew to a close, Crosby had slipped away and managed to find accommodations in the servant's quarters.

Now, his armor and gear on the floor at his feet, Crosby still was awake. For some reason he felt afraid of falling asleep. He had a dim, distant memory of an irrational fear of the dark, and of falling asleep. Somehow he had a sense of foreboding, as if something terrible would happen to him if he fell asleep. In the end he didn't remember closing his eyes, or if he did it was only for a moment.

Then, he saw her, the Weaver of Fate, the one called Tinúviel, seated on the edge of his simple bed. As before her beauty carried with in an aura that seemed to cast a soft, green glow in the darkness. She reached out, taking one of his hands in her own.

**_"The time has come, Robert Crosby. You must be strengthened, for tonight you will have to face your demons."_**

An icy finger of fear touched Crosby's spine, and Weaver seemed to notice this. She leaned in and caressed his face.

**_"Worry not, for you will not face these demons alone. Behold I shall be by your side at all times to protect you from the Enemy's guile. Above everything else you must not be afraid."_**

Crosby nodded, and gave a weak smile.

"Fair enough, but if I pass this test you better make good on your promise to kiss me."

Her large green eyes glinted, and she gave a mischievous smile.

_**"From what I hear there are other women in your life now. Are you sure your other paramour won't be jealous?"**_

His smile grew more genuine.

"Oh, the duchess? That's just a crush, I can handle her."

The Lady let out a musical giggle.

**_"So be it; that is a promise I intend to keep."_**

She let go of his hand and took a step back.

**_"Are you ready, Robert Crosby?"_**

The Zulu Squad sergeant nodded uncertainly, and she snapped her fingers.

There was a blinding flash, and Crosby felt disoriented as there was ringing in his ears. As the ringing subsided he could hear voices, at first garbled and distant, but then they became clearer. Then he heard a familiar voice shouting.

"They're almost to the gatehouse, everybody suit up!"

Then he heard his name being called.

"Crosby! Sarge, you with me?"

He opened his eyes, and was shocked to see a fellow Zulu Squad soldier looking at him. Crosby looked around, and saw they were in the Command Center, in the heavily fortified base that guarded the Bridge. Crosby's eyes took in the sand-ruined interior that used to be an office, with the Memorial Wall on one end and the large-screen TV in the far corner. He shook his head.

"No...this isn't right..."

Martinez cocked his head to one side, and although his face was obscured by the skull balaclava and orange goggles, he could tell his fellow Zulu was frowning. He then heard a sharp voice call out.

"Yo! Get ready!"

He looked over to the entrance and saw Lt. Hoffman, wearing his Heavy Trooper armor, finish duct-taping his hand to the trigger grip of his AA12. Crosby then heard himself calling out.

"Whatever happens, don't let Delta reach the Checkpoint!"

He heard Martinez bark out orders.

"O'Brien, Walters, Quinn! You three take up positions down there and provide suppressing fire for Heavy Six!"

The Heavy Trooper rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck.

"Yeah! Let's do this!"

Crosby watched the scene unfold with a case of déjà vu. He saw the Heavy fire a round at the door, causing it to explode outwards. He heard Martinez shout ineffectually into he radio as Hoffman charged outside.

"Goddammit! Hoffman, sir! Stay in the Gatehouse! Do not engage outside you're too vulnerable!"

He then heard the Heavy speak into his radio.

_"I'm going to try and flank `im, cover me!"_

Just like before, Hoffman's radio receiver must be damaged by the explosion. Crosby felt a bad case of déjà vu, and mumbled to himself.

"...This isn't right...We did this already..."

Pineada's helmet swiveled to him.

_"Say again? Did not copy your last, Iceman..."_

Crosby shook his head.

"Nevermind, doesn't matter. Let's kill these fuckers!"

He heard the Heavy Trooper grunt as he took enemy fire, and heard one of the Delta soldiers, the M249 SAW gunner by the sound of it, tell Walker to aim for the head. He saw O'Brien shout out.

"Heavy Six is down! Repeating, Heavy Trooper Hoffman is down!"

It was like watching a movie where Crosby was participating in, but had no control over his actions or speech. He saw O'Brien and Walters get cut down by heavy machine gun fire, then Walker charged into the Command Center, brandishing Hoffman's AA12, and snarled.

"Kill `em all!"

As if in a trance Crosby saw Martinez and Pineada advancing with to the sandbagged emplacement, he followed them, mechanically growling into his radio.

"Tangos moving, eyes wide!"

But, just as before, neither of his squad-mates could stop Delta. Martinez tried to outflank the heavy gunner, only to be pinned down by Walker. The Zulu Squad soldier took several hits to his armored chest and grunted into his radio.

_"Taking heavy fire!"_

Corporal Pineada fared no better as Walker, armed with the AA12, took him out by the Memorial Wall. It was all playing out just as Crosby remembered. Then, on cue, he saw a grenade appear at his feet.

There was another blinding flash. When Crosby opened his eyes, he was in a sandstorm. Before him stood the Burj Khalifa Tower, engulfed in fire. The wind buffeted him, forcing him to his knees. Over the roaring howl of the wind, Crosby thought he heard voices.

As before, at first they were garbled, incomprehensible in the wind. Then, he saw a lone figure shambling ahead and spoke one word.

"Why?"

Crosby shielded his eyes, and recognized the figure, wearing the older 3 Color Desert pattern camo. The soldier limped forward, dragging a bleeding stump that was his left foot. The soldier stared at Crosby, there was a sticky wet circle in the center of his forehead.

"It was my first deployment...I promised Mom I'd be home for Christmas...What am I gonna tell her now?"

Suddenly memories flooded back unwanted. Crosby's squad in Afghanistan came under fire, the Taliban sniper that turned out to be a kid, the first casualty. This kid, someone who even now Crosby couldn't remember his name, was the first loss he experienced as squad leader. He felt a repulsive shame, then the figure disintegrated as if made of sand, and another figure approached.

"You were right, Crosby..."

This time the figure was wearing digital ACU's and the 33rd Infantry patch, along with an oak leaf cluster insignia. Major Gavin, the last ranking officer of the Damned 33rd after Konrad's death, stepped forward. His face was caked with grime, only his eyes stood out, and as before they bored into Crosby's soul. The sergeant saw three bloody holes in Gavin's chest. He heard the major continue.

"...should have trusted your gut and told us sooner...All of this could have been avoided..."

Gavin's last words echoed as he too disintegrated into sand. Crosby tried to push himself up to his feet, but the wind pushed him further down. He heard another voice, one that he again recognized.

"I-I tried to be strong, Sarge. I really tried..."

He looked up, and saw another figure shambling towards him, this time it was PVT Davis. Half the young medic's head was gone, and he could see a gaping hole in the in back of his skull where blood and sand congealed. The figure still held his M9 loosely in his fingers.

"I guess I'm just not that strong..."

Crosby tried to speak, and tell Davis that it was his fault for telling him to suck it up, but too late, the figure once again disappeared. The sergeant felt the mental anguish that only a soldier feels; the survivor's guilt for his fellow squaddies who didn't make it out. A crushing lament that is equal parts sorrow and raging against the heavens for taking his friends and for the cruel mercy of sparing his life. Then, just when Crosby thought he couldn't take any more, the final shoe dropped.

"Why didn't you keep me safe?"

The sergeant knew who the last person was, and he tried to look away, tried to shut out the Kentucky-twanged voice as it spoke.

"I promised my baby mama I'd see her again..."

An unseen force pushed Crosby's face up, and he wanted to close his eyes, to shut out the apparition. PFC Peter 'Pete' Gobbi stood before him, looking like a some denizen from a horror movie. His uniform was bloodied and tattered, and the private's body was contorted in odd angles, his face was disfigured by crude seams stapled together, he looked like a rag doll that had been torn apart and sloppily stitched back together. The apparition spoke again.

"Now my baby girl's gonna grow up without her daddy...Why didn't you save me?"

Then the apparition started to sink into the sand.

"Crosby...help...please!"

Crosby threw himself forward to try and rescue Gobbi from the sinking sand, he reached out and grasped the private's hand. But the private's hand came loose, and the rest of him sank into the shifting sand. The Zulu Squad sergeant stared at the dismembered hand, which also disintegrated into sand and blew away. Then, a smoky fog enveloped Crosby. He heard a familiar voice cut through the fog, calling out his name.

"Crosby! 1st Sgt. Crosby! Do you hear me?"

Crosby narrowed his eyes as a figure took shape in the smoke.

"What the-"

The fog parted, and Crosby saw a figure wearing heavy armor walking up to him. The Heavy Trooper paused, and flipped up his visor, revealing a bright yellow balaclava with a smiley face on it. The Zulu Squad sergeant recognized who it was.

"Connors?"

The Heavy pulled down his face covering, revealing the face of Sgt. Chuck Connors. The African-American NCO's face split into a friendly smile.

"Dammit I'm sure glad to see you, Sarge! C'mon, we need to get out of here!"

He turned to leave, but Crosby stopped him.

"What the hell do you mean? And what are you doing here?"

Connors turned around.

"Listen, sarge I don't have much time, but you took a nasty hit back there at the Command Center-"

Crosby shook his head.

"No, I was fragged by that grenade..."

The Heavy smiled.

"Nah, you're too tough to taken out by a grenade, Crosby! You took a nasty hit, but you survived."

The Zulu Squad sergeant paused.

"So...you mean..."

Connors sighed.

"Yes, Crosby, I'm afraid you got a concussion and've been in a coma for the last four hours. But if you follow me, I can show you the way back, and we can stop Walker once and for all."

He have a wry grin.

"You see, it's a case of good news, bad news. Good news is, there's still around a hundred of us left, and there's a Marine Expeditionary unit that landed in Dubai, callsign Falcon One. But bad news is Walker's still alive."

He took Crosby's arm.

"Which is why time is of the essence. We need to make contact with Falcon One before Walker does, otherwise he'll kill them all and they'll assume we've all gone rogue."

Crosby half-heartedly tried to pull his arm free.

"This...this isn't real..."

Connors took a more forceful tone.

"Come on, sarge! Time's wasting!"

Crosby took two steps forward, the he heard a feminine voice in his mind.

_**"He is not what he claims to be..."**_

The Zulu Squad sergeant stopped, and Sgt. Connors turned around.

"What the hell are you waiting for, an invitation?"

Crosby spoke up.

"No...this isn't real. I died back there..."

Connor's looked exasperated.

"For fuck's sake, Crosby, you think that stupid little magical Minecraft world with the big-eyed girls and their weird ass familiars is real and this isn't? That's your concussion talkin', not you! Now quick fucking around and follow me!"

But Crosby took a step back.

"No. No, because this isn't Dubai, and you're not Sgt. Connors."

He looked the Heavy Trooper right in the eyes.

"And I never said I came from a world of magical girls and their familiars!"

The Heavy Trooper glared at Crosby.

Dammit Crosby! That shit ain't real, it's a fantasy world created by some fat nerd eating fatty cakes in Japan with a boob fetish! You wanna stay there? You ain't gonna come back if you don't come back now! You'll be stuck here, stuck in a coma and become a human vegetable, you deserve better than that! We need you, the men, hell the last of the Damned 33rd need you!"

Crosby closed his eyes, and heard the Lady speak again.

_**"He lies..."**_

A calm came over Crosby, and he smiled sadly at Connors.

"Sorry Chuck, but even if what you're saying is legit, back in the magical world I can become a hero and make a difference. Even if it's not real it's better than Dubai. I'm sorry."

He saw Connors, or whatever the apparition was, seethe with anger.

"You dumb motherfucker!"

Fire flared up around the Heavy Trooper as he spoke, and his voice took on a sinister tone.

"So that's it? That's all she wrote? Is that** the way** **you wanna play?"**

Long tongues of flame licked at Connors' armor, until his entire body was engulfed in flames. Then, he exploded, and Crosby had to shield his eyes from the blast. When he opened his eyes the sergeant saw there was nothing but a pile of burning hot coals.

Before he could even react to what happened the coals shifted, as if stirred by an invisible poker. Then, the pile erupted in a shower of sparks, and stretched into a burning pillar. Crosby had to look away as it flared up in a burning white-hot explosions, and he heard a voice. A deep, grating voice that froze the Zulu Squad sergeant's blood.

**"Now we get to do things MY WAY!"**

Crosby looked up and saw a humanoid shape step out of the fire. As his eyes adjusted he saw that it took the form of a burning corpse, but it was in a state of constant flux. For every time the fire burned away the sinew on its head and arms, the muscle and skin rewound around it, only to be burned again. The charred uniform was constantly re-weaving over burnt skin everytime the flames consumed it. The face briefly was restored, and Crosby recognized the face as it contorted into a demonic snarl.

**"I'm coming for you, Crosby!"**

The burning Walker-demon then leveled his weapon, an M249 SAW, at Crosby, and pulled the trigger. Crosby quickly ducked behind some sandbags, he saw the bullets impact around him, and incredibly watched as the bullet-holed caught fire. He heard Captain Walker's voice taunt him.

**"There's nothing you can do to stop me!"**

Crosby looked down and saw he was carrying a SCAR-H, so he reached up and blind-fired in the general direction of Walker. Crosby peered out of cover and saw where the burning apparition was standing. He squeezed the trigger and fired, but to his horror, Walker disappeared and was replaced by a battered mannequin. He ducked as more bullets whizzed over his head, and he heard the creature's voice again.

**"Not you, not your precious Zulu Squad, nobody can stop me!"**

He waited until the firing stopped, then Crosby leaned out of cover and leveled his weapon. The burning effigy of Walker advanced on his position, this time Crosby reached down and fired a grenade at him. The resulting explosion kicked up a cloud of sand, and for a moment Crosby was blinded.

Then, he felt a boot kick him in the face, and he fell to the ground on his back. Stars blurred Crosby's vision, and his head swam with pain as he felt something warm and sticky fill his mouth. He turned his head and retched out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, only to feel a boot stomp on his chest. Crosby looked up and saw Walker standing over him. Without a word he rammed the barrel of his heavy machine gun into Crosby's mouth, and the sergeant tasted the metallic finish of the barrel coupled with gun oil and the grimy taste of cordite on his tongue.

The Walker-creature's eyes blazed with supernatural hatred and he rasped.

**"Any last words, before I redecorate the floor with your brains?"**

Fear. Crosby now felt raw, naked fear stabbing his belly. Fear for his life. Fear for his friends that he would never see again, both in the 33rd and the new friends he made in Helkeginia.

The memories of Louise surfaced to Crosby's mind, and he somehow heard her words to him.

_"You swore an oath to be my bodyguard! I haven't relieved you of that oath!"_

Her words brought Crosby strength; strength that surged through his body as he grasped the barrel of the M249 and wrenched it out of his mouth, causing the ground to erupt beside his head as the heavy machine gun went off. The recoil of the weapon threw Walker off balance, and Crosby used that to his advantage as he kicked out the legs from underneath his attacker. Walker went down, on his back, completely helpless.

In a flash Crosby was on top of Walker, his own SCAR-H gun pointed right at the enemy's face. The surge of adrenaline pumped through Crosby's body as he felt the rage building up inside. This asshole killed all of his fellow soldiers in the 33rd, and for what? So he could be something he's not, a hero. Faces flashed before Crosby's face, and he knew what he had to do. Roughly he shoved the barrel of his own rifle under Walker's chin, and he leaned in.

"How about you, shithead? Any last words?"

The defeated Walker spat a fiery phlegm of blood at Crosby's feet, and sneered.

**"You don't have the balls, fucker!"**

Finally, Crosby had the opportunity to change things, and it wouldn't take much. He could feel his finger tightening on the trigger, he would kill Walker, stop the bloodshed, and-

_**"-And you will be just like him..."**_

The Weaver's voice caught Crosby off-guard, and he looked down again. Gone was the demonic, burning effigy of Captain Walker. In its place was a pathetic figure, defeated and pathetic. Half of Walker's face was burned, the rest of his body was bloodied and bruised. His clothes were in tatters, even his body armor was shredded to the point of revealing the broken ceramic insert underneath. If the appearance of Walker had changed, then his attitude did not. The Delta captain rasped at Crosby, annoyed by his hesitation, and spoke in a weak voice.

"Well...what are you waiting for...Kill me..."

Crosby's anger drained away like a lanced boil, and in it's place he felt shame and pity. This man didn't deserve to die, anymore than the 33rd deserved to die. Or anyone who had died in Dubai as a result of blindly following orders and miscommunication. From the shame Crosby found a new resolve. He looked down at Walker and spoke.

"No."

He pulled his boot off Walker's chest, but he made no attempt to get up. Instead he remained in the prone position as if pinned in place.

"What the fuck do you mean, no? Get back here and shoot me!"

Crosby threw away his SCAR-H, but said nothing. Walker seethed and started taunting Crosby.

"Fuck you, asshole! I tried to kill you, now Fucking SHOOT ME! C'MON I'M LYING RIGHT HERE!"

The sergeant shook his head.

"I said no. I'm not stooping to your level. I'm done with you, so you can go to Hell on your own."

Then Walker screamed in anguish as the same fire sprang up around him, but this time it reduced itself to ashes that mingled with the sand and blew away with a gust of wind. Crosby sat down on a sandbag emplacement, exhausted.

But before he could even take a breath there was another brilliant flash of light, and he was back in the emerald green forest. He heard the soft, feminine voice speak up behind him.

**_"It is done, you have faced down your demons and have obtained absolution."_**

He turned and saw Tinúviel striding up to him, smiling. Crosby smiled back at her.

"As I recall, you owe me something."

She giggle.

**_"So I do."_**

She came closer and draped her slender arms around his shoulders, her shining green eyes were the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and leaned in.

"Hey Sarge!"

Crosby opened his eyes and the curse that was rising in his throat stopped short. He recognized the soldier standing off to the side. He was youthful, tall and lanky, and he would recognize that Kentucky twang anywhere. Another figure appeared next to the soldier, this one in the form of a man with sunburned skin and wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt. The stranger grinned at Tinúviel.

"Well, hope I'm interrupting something, but one of Crosby's buddies here wanted to say hi."

The Weaver give a low bow to the interloper in the loud shirt.

**_"My Lord."_**

The newcomer just chuckled.

"How many times do I gotta tell ya, toots? It's just Country."

He looked over to Crosby.

"Congrats on passing your test, by the by."

The Lady straightened up and smiled at Crosby.

**_"I had faith that Robert Crosby would pass..."_**

She turned and gave a sly smile to Country.

**_"Although, the timing of his friend's arrival would make it appear as if my Lord has a sense of humor."_**

Crosby was only vaguely aware of the conversation that the Weaver was having with the odd man in the shirt. Instead, he was fixed on slowly walked up to the private, still wondering if he was seeing a ghost.

"Gobbi? Pete?"

Private Gobbi grinned.

"How's it goin' Sarge?"

The younger soldier, extended his hand. The older soldier quickly enveloped him in a bro hug. Pete Gobbie was shock to see his normally stoic Zulu Squad buddy react so emotionally. When he saw that Crosby didn't respond, the private noticed his buddy's armored shoulders were shaking. Then, to Gobbi's great shock, he saw Crosby was crying.

"Hey, S'matter buddy?"

When Crosby didn't respond Pete felt awkward.

"Um, you okay Sarge?"

He then felt Crosby disengage from the hug, and saw the Zulu Squad sergeant wipe away a tear.

"Sorry about that, private. Just had a...ah, leak in the eyelids, you understand."

The sergeant regained his composure.

"Ahem, anyways, it's good to see you again, Pete. You're looking well."

The private thrust his hands into his BDU trousers.

"Likewise, sarge."

Crosby struggled to keep his emotions in check, and continued.

"So, she rescued you too, huh?"

Gobbi, who was staring at the brightly colored trees, nodded.

"Yep, sent me off to this sweet gig where I get to play the hero."

The private gestured to the newcomer.

"Ol' Country here said I could come visit ya, but looks like our timin's a bit off."

He looked over to Tinúviel.

"Look, I can come back a bit later if ya need some more quality time with Miss Tinny."

Before Crosby could respond, the private paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Ah crap. Ah, hey Country?"

The stranger paused in his conversation.

"Yes, Pete, s'up?"

Gobbi gestured over his shoulder.

"Looks like she's back...could y'all do that abracadabra disappearing act again?"

Country grinned.

"Oh, all right. Fine."

Crosby looked puzzle.

"She who?"

Gobbi shook his head.

"No time to explain, gotta split."

Then in a flash the private and the stranger vanished into thin air. No sooner had they disappeared then Crosby heard a voice calling out. It was a feminine voice, and it was not a language he was familiar with. Then he saw who the voice belonged to.

It was a girl in her teens, with Middle Eastern features with olive skin, long waist-length black hair bound in a pigtail, and large hazel eyes rimmed in kohl. He noticed that she was wearing some sort of turquoise outfit. She stared at Crosby and spoke again in a soft musical voice, her eyes never leaving him.

It was Farsi, Crosby thought, no doubt about it, but only in the vaguest way that Chaucer's English was to Modern English. He then noticed she had finished talking and was looking at him expectantly. He dumbly shook his head.

The girl looked over and spoke in the same language to Tinúviel, who snapped her fingers. Then the girl gave a sweeping bow to the Weaver and spoke again, and this time Crosby could understand her.

"A thousand thanks to thee, oh Queen of the Forest with hair the hue of Emeralds, for thy magic that helps the warrior understand me."

The girl turned her attention back to Crosby, and he found himself staring at her as she spoke in that same flowery speech.

"Oh fair-skinned _Farangī_, thy warrior's raiment and armor matches that of another whom I seek. I praythee, hast thou seen a warrior, a boy, white-skinned like thee, but fair in countenance, hair like wild honey and eyes blue as the sky's reflection in an oasis? For my heart aches to see him again and profess my love to him…"

Crosby stared at the girl, who was staring at him expectantly. It took Tinúviel clearing her throat to jog the older soldier out of his reverie.

"Um, I…no ma'am, I'm sorry I haven't seen the, ah, person of interest you're looking for."

The girl seemed crushed, and lowered her head.

"I thank thee for thy honest reply, _Farangī,_ though thy words sting my heart that you know not of where my beloved is."

She turned and bowed to Tinúviel.

"Fair thee well, Queen of the Forest, for I must be on my way to find my beloved. May the Lord's blessings and peace be upon thee."

With that she turned and left. For a while Crosby stood there stunned. He thought he recognized the girl, although it seemed like an age ago. Then Gobbi appeared from behind one of the trees.

"Is she gone?"

Crosby turned.

"Yeah. You mind explaining why a teenybobber from the Arabian Nights is looking for you, private?"

Country then appeared and clapped Gobbi on the shoulder.

"Oh, nothing much, the private here managed to get himself entangled in a romantic triangle. It's quite funny, actually."

Gobbi glanced back at the stranger.

"Hey, man! This is all your fault, you made this happen!"

Country held up his hands innocently.

"Hey, like I said before, I just set the stage, these Tapestries take on a mind of their own."

The private shrugged.

"Yeah, whatev's. Pelayo swears you do this shit for your own lulz."

He looked over to the Weaver.

"Anyways, I gotta split and try to sort this out, Miss Tinny."

She smiled.

**_"If you require more direct assistance again, let me know."_**

"Thanks, ma'am, but I think I got this."

He gave another hug to Crosby.

"See ya around, sarge!"

And in a blinding flash of light, the private was gone. Crosby looked over to the Weaver.

"You mean to tell me that Private Gobbi ended up in another universe?"

She smiled.

_**"Yes, like you I sent him there to become the hero."**_

She glanced back at the stranger and giggled.

_**"Although, there have been certain...setbacks..."**_

A light went off in Crosby's head, and he turned and glared at the stranger.

"So, you're the Storyteller, or Ǣsbiǫrn?"

The stranger nodded.

"Yep, in the flesh. I also go by Country Ollman, if you prefer. What can I do you for?"

Crosby frowned.

"I appreciate being rescued from Dubai, but the world you sent me to is sixteen degrees of wrong fanservice-y harem fucked-uppedness."

Country shrugged.

"Hey, I didn't invent all those weird clichés, that's someone else."

A memory resurfaced, causing the Zulu Squad sergeant to glare at Country.

"And while we're on the subject, what was up with turning me into a teenager and sic'ing half the female population onto me?"

Country raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you mean the botched spell that resulted in a fountain of youth baleful polymorph, turning you into a prettyboy with the unwanted harem, the marshmallow hell and the lover tug of war?"

Crosby seethed at the memories of being turned into a teenager.

"Yeah."

The stranger grinned at him.

"C'mon you know how many neckbeards and gamer nerds would give their left nut to be in a sitch like that?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a nerd or a neckbeard..." growled Crosby as he was fingering the catch on his Desert Eagle. Country didn't seem perturbed in the least.

"Oh? I'm taking it you didn't enjoy yourself?"

"Not hardly! It was degrading and painful!" Crosby snarled, still resting his hand on the butt of his pistol.

The stranger chuckled to himself.

"Ah, that's a shame, the 'Extra Silly' arc had the most comments of all, and judging by the number of visitors, ranks in the top ten percentile of most popular in the Tapestry."

Crosby made a knife-hand gesture.

"I don't know what that hell that means, and I don't give a shit. What want to know is, why did you do it?"

Country shrugged.

"Honestly? It amused me."

He left the Zulu Squad sergeant dumbfounded and disappeared. Then Crosby turned to look at the Weaver, who was smiling at him. She reached out, caressing his cheek.

**_"You are so close, so close to achieving your heart's desire to become the Hero..."_**

A feminine contralto voice interrupted the Weaver.

"Sir Crosby!"

Tinúviel smiled.

_**"It would appear you are needed again..."**_

Crosby recognized the voice.

"No, wait! That's the duchess, I don't want to-"

But the Weaver just giggled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

_**"Until next time, Robert Crosby..."**_

Before he could protest the sergeant found himself away, and sitting upright in bed. His eyes were temporarily blinded by a shaft of light that stabbed the darkness of his quarters. Standing in the doorway was a tall figure, and at first Crosby couldn't make out the details. Then she brandished her ring, and a candle on the table lit, revealing the features of Duchess Karin de La Vallière. She smiled in triumph.

"There you are! I've been looking all over the estate for you, Sir Crosby!"

It was then that Crosby noticed she was wearing an elegant nightgown. He pulled the covers closer to him, realizing that his armor was well out of reach.

"Um, Duchess Karin, er it's really late and I'm very tired, could you please just-"

But the duchess interrupted him and grabbed his wrist, yanking and practically dragging him out of bed.

"Of course you're tired, my dear Robert, but you must'nt sleep in such bare quarters! Not to worry, I have a guest room that is the best in the estate..."

She gave him a wink.

"And it happens to be right next to my bedchambers!"

Crosby sighed as he struggled in the duchess's iron grip.

"Fine, but can I at least get my armor and weapons?"

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Well, that Crucible was I think sufficiently horrific. And before you say it: yes, there are slight differences between Blind Luck and Crosby's Crucible, that's on purpose, much like the chopper chase sequence in SO:TL was slightly different. At this rate poor Crosby's never going to get his kiss from the Weaver. And, he's got the duchess to deal with.<em> _**And** unlike Kirche or the others, Karin de La Vallière is a full-blown super buffed Wind Mage, so I'm guessing she won't take no for an answer :)  
>The next Crucible will probably be Lugo, although I'm not for sure. Many thanks to Deathmaster98, Trainalf and biohazard115 for their input and beta skills. Until next time, don't touch that dial!)<em>


	162. Lugo's Crucible

_(AN: I apologize in advance for the lateness in getting this out. It's been crazy busy at work, which normally would only delay me by about a week, but then there was the passing of an aged relative in the old country. It was not unexpected, but no matter how prepared you are it doesn't really prepare you or the immediate family for the ordeal. Add travel time, final arrangements, time spent providing moral support to family members, mix in a healthy dose of work-related crazy...marinate in a sauce of long-standing family feuds, bake in a natural pressure cooker of stress, and voilà! You have a minor creator's breakdown. It doesn't help that these crucible chapters are technically challenging and emotionally draining to write. But, as the saying goes, on we march! I've been sketching this chapter out on my notebook, hotel writing pads, even restaurant napkins and finally on the flight back from France churned this out. Enjoy!)_

**(Tristainia Palace, 23:15 hrs local time)**

Sgt. Lugo was laying in his bed, still awake. His hyper-awareness had the Delta Force sniper take in every detail of his room, from the smooth polished wood on the bedside table to the rough timbers in the ceiling above him. He heard his wife, the maid Siesta, softly breathing in her sleep next to him in bed. But the worst part was his smell-memory. Lugo had helped Sgt. Crosby clean up what was left of King Jozef after his execution, and the pungent garlic-like smell from the Wily Pete residue was an uncomfortable reminder of what happened in Dubai.

That memory still remained, even after everything that had happened in this bizarre world of magic, clinging to Lugo's psyche like an unwanted parasite. He didn't even think he had closed his eyes, but apparently he had, because where the room was originally empty, now there was a glowing figure standing at the foot of his bed. His eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw it was the same mysterious lady who rescued him from Dubai. She still has beautiful as he remembered, with long flowing locks of green hair, and large eyes that were the same color. Her face had an unusually solemn expression as she spoke.

_**"It is time, John Lugo."**_

"Time for what?"

He glanced nervously at the sleeping form of Siesta.

"Ah, if you're trying to take me up on my old offer I'm already off the market, sorry."

That earned a small smile from the Weaver of Fate. She spoke again in the same soft melodious voice.

_**"Regretfully I am here for something more grave."**_

She looked over to Siesta.

_**"Your actions saved that girl, along with many other souls, from a fate worse than death."**_

The Weaver turned her attention back to Lugo, and he could feel her eyes boring into his soul.

_**"But now you must face down one more challenge..."**_

She must have sensed the sarcastic quip on the tip of Lugo's tongue, for she frowned as she spoke.

_**"Now is not the time for levity, John Lugo. For you must face your demons, and if you fail you will be damned, doomed to repeat your failures forever..."**_

Her face softened, and her smile returned.

_**"But I have faith you will pass this final test, for if you succeed you will receive absolution for your sins in Dubai, and you will know peace."**_

She slowly strode over to his side of the bed, and held out her hand.

_**"Remember Lugo, to trust your feelings over your own instincts..."**_

Lugo hesitatingly reached out and touched the Weaver's hand, and his eyes were blinded by a bright white light. Everything was a blur of blinding colors and overpowering noise. His own emotions were as jumbled as the rest of his senses. Panic. Fear. Anxiety. They washed over Lugo as the sensory overload continued. As his vision tried to focus he could hear voices through the noise, indistinct at first but then he could make out snippets.

"...top running! We're not trying to hurt you!"

"...it's not safe anymore!"

Lugo's vision cleared, and the first thing he saw was that he was standing in the middle of the ruined hotel in Dubai, known as the Nest. The second thing he noticed was that he was surrounded. Civilians, mostly women, children and the elderly, were being herded into long queues by the Damned 33rd. What looked like a kidnapping/snatch and grab from Captain Walker's perspective up high instead looked more like a rescue operation. There were medical stations where the civilians were being treated for dehydration and malnutrition, still other medics were treating the wounded civilians. He noticed two soldiers closest to him.

One was a medic, a younger man with a permanent lopsided smile, who was administering an intravenous drip to an older gentleman in a tattered business suit and wearing a turban. The NCO, who was sporting SGT stripes and a bristly mustache, was going down the line of civilians asking questions about their medical histories and allergies. When the sergeant finished he went back to the medic, who had finished placing a bandage over the needle area.

"...Alright, Mr. Singh, now I need ya to flex that elbow and put pressure against that cotton swab for about five minutes, okay?"

The medic reached into a crate next to him and gave the man a water bottle.

"Here's some water, if you go follow that big guy over there, he'll direct you to your transport truck."

The older man hesitated.

"B-but where are you taking us?"

The NCO interjected.

"Sir, this place isn't safe anymore. The Insurgents have started attacked us again, if the War starts again you'll need to somewhere more secure."

The older man's eyes lit up as he pulled on his frayed suit jacket.

"Ah, this is the sanctuary of Konrad? Is he there as well? Will he lead us out of this hell?"

Both the NCO and the medic exchanged a look.

"Ah, yes...just...follow the soldier there and we'll get you to safety."

After the civilian left, the NCO turned to the medic.

"Shit Torrez, I forgot how many of these civvies still worship the Old Man. It's crazy."

The medic sat back down.

"As long as it keeps them compliant, I say let it be, Davis."

He took a drink from his camelback.

"Any word from McPherson?"

Torrez shook his head.

"Negative, we've been getting sporadic radio chatter and reports of some CIA kill team that's been wrecking havoc on our scouts. Nothing solid."

The medic looked around Torrez's shoulder and chuckled.

"Uh-oh..."

The sergeant cocked his head.

"What is it, Davis?"

Davis shook his head.

"Um, Sar'ent Torrez be advised, Old Grim and Grizzly is coming up on your six and coming in hot!"

Torrez rolled his eyes.

"Shit..."

A gruff, froggy voice growled at him from behind.

"Torrez! About face, I want to see your ugly mug..."

He turned and faced an older soldier wearing the same ACU's as the rest of the 33rd soldiers. The only thing that distinguished the newcomer was his grim, craggy features that were permanently creased in a scowl, and the CSM insignia on his vest. Command Sergeant Major Wolfe glared at Torrez, which the junior NCO returned with a grin.

"Problem, Sar'ent Major?"

The senior NCO's frown deepened, and he responded in a low froggy voice that was accustomed to shouting.

"I thought I told you earlier to po-lease those moo-stache hairs, Torrez. Or did you think that I predicated that with the phrase 'if it pleases your Majesty'?"

Before Torrez could let out a snarky retort, a third voice spoke up.

"Problem, Wolfe?"

The CSM turned and saw a young officer approaching. Lugo almost didn't recognized Lt. Gordon as he was wearing a balaclava. The officer pulled off his face covering, and the senior NCO saluted him.

"As you were. What seems to be the malfunction, Sergeant Major?"

Wolfe glanced over to the junior NCO.

"Sir, I was merely informing Torrez here about his lack of grooming standards."

Gordon made a wry smile and shook his head.

"Really Wolfe? We're battling the Insurgents and this phantom CIA kill team and god knows what else, and here you're busting balls about grooming standards? What's next, you're going to smoke Davis because he didn't blouse his boots?"

The scowl deepened on Wolfe's face.

"With respect, sir, you of all people should know the importance of discipline in a place like this. I wrote those Rules of Occupation for a reason, and why it's so damned important we follow them. Today it's un-groomed faces and rampant moo-stache hairs, tomorrow it's breaking ranks and looting!"

He gestured to the sand-swept landscape outside the ruined hotel.

"Hell we still have a few of our own boys acting fucking crazy, running around hopped up on amphetamines and poking people with their bayonets!"

He took off his cover and wiped sweat from his face.

"Ah, shit! I'm sorry for ranting, sir."

Gordon didn't respond but looked over to Torrez.

"Sgt. Torrez, be advised that effective immediately I want all the NCO's to be cleanshaven. That includes you."

The sergeant saluted.

"Roger that. Permission to continue with Operation Reclamation?"

"Permission granted, carry on."

Gordon looked back at Wolfe.

"Happy, Sergeant Major?"

The CSM didn't respond, but allowed himself a small smile. The lieutenant looked back at the crowd of refugees.

"Then continue supervising the evac, I have to report back to Base on some intel we've recovered about our CIA friends."

Wolfe gave a curt nod and walked off, probably in search of another victim, Gordon thought. He heard Davis speak up.

"Hey, El-Tee, any more word from Crosby? Or is team Grey Fox even too elusive for the famed Zulu Squad?"

The lieutenant smiled.

"Last radio check I got from Iceman they were closing the net. Only be a matter of time."

He looked back to the steady stream of refugees.

"In the meantime what I said to Wolfe applies to you and everyone else, It's imperative we get these civvies to safety. From what I've heard of this CIA kill team, they're shooting up anyone in their path. If you see them, you shoot to kill."

Lugo watched as Lt. Gordon walked off, then swirling sand filled his entire vision. Once again he heard voices.

"...I have a bad feeling about this..."

The sand cleared, and Lugo saw that he was standing in the lobby of a posh department store. Overhead he saw the sun beating down through smashed glass skylights, but even with all the damage from the sandstorms the Delta sniper could still make out the expensive marble flooring, the gaudy gold-leafed wall art and glass-topped displays showcasing $20K purses and Louise Vuitton handbags.

Standing around one of the intact glass counters were several 33rd soldiers, a whiteboard was propped up against the perfume shelf. Camo netting was stretched over their heads to protect them from the sun. One of them was wearing the familiar black and white uniform of the Zulu Squad, and Lugo recognized him immediately as Crosby.

"...I still think we should try and make contact with this team. Some of the early radio chatter seemed to indicate they were Delta Force, not CIA."

Another soldier snorted. Lugo recognized Bowles, with his Oakleys perched on his head.

"Bullshit, if they were US Army then why are they shooting our men?"

Crosby glared at the other soldier.

"With respect, sir, maybe because our guys started shooting at them first!"

Bowles shrugged.

"Look, in his last radio transmission McPherson clearly stated that he encountered a CIA kill team, and said he was following order to shoot on sight."

The Zulu Squad sergeant shook his head.

"McPherson was a hothead, sir, hell he wouldn't have gotten captured if he had followed orders to withdraw Alpha Patrol after their first ambush!"

The third soldier, a ranking officer with oak leaf clusters insignia on his vest, interjected.

"You think this Walker's on our side, and that this is just a miscommunication?"

The Zulu Squad sergeant shrugged his armored shoulders.

"It's just a gut feeling, sir."

The major looked back at the ruined Dubai skyline.

"Well, the latest intel was that Walker was separated from his team, apparently he fell out of one of the ruined buildings and is somewhere in the Pit, near the Junkyard. One of our Little Birds, Bravo Four, sighted him. He claimed Walker survived the fall. "

He saw the incredulous look on Crosby's face.

"Yeah, that was my reaction. I thought that kind of gravity only existed in video games and Saturday morning cartoons, but I dispatched a team down to see if he did survive."

"But if their orders are to shoot first-"

"That is enough, Sgt. Crosby, I appreciate your input, but I think we need to focus on the task at hand."

He looked up and saw two more soldiers approaching.

"Ah, Captain Mitchell, report in. How did Operation Reclamation go?"

The captain could have been any one of the countless 33rd soldiers Lugo gunned down in Dubai, but Lugo recognized the other soldier. It was the interrogator who had Gould killed. Mitchell spoke up.

"Honestly, sir? It was a clusterfuck."

Crosby frowned.

"Say what, sir?"

The captain continued.

"Actually, to call it a clusterfuck is an understatement. We failed. That mystery CIA kill team ambushed us from above, killed 50 boys from Gaines' Echo Company plus god knows how many were buried in the sand avalanche."

A shame crept over Lugo as he consequences of his actions were revealed. Both Crosby and Bowles looked aghast.

"What?! How?"

Mitchell closed his eyes.

"Apparently one of them commandeered a 50 cal. emplacement and shot out that giant glass window that was holding back an entire sand dune."

The major interrupted.

"Did any of the civilians make it out?"

Ross turned to Gavin and spoke in the same flat, monotone voice Lugo remembered.

"Major Gavin, sir, one truckload of civilians made it out safely. 47 of them, to be precise. They left before things went to shit."

His emotionless voice cracked.

"Sgt. Major Wolfe saw to it. He even stayed behind to secure their escape, at the cost of his own life."

This time even Gavin reacted.

"What? Wolfe's dead?!"

Ross nodded.

"Got fragged by a stray grenade while he was trying to mount a counter-attack against the kill-team."

Nobody spoke for a while, then the interrogator broke the silence.

"Which brings me to the reason I'm here, sir. Not long after that the three man kill team made contact with their CIA counterparts. They apparently tripped up the trap we set for Gould, and they made contact with him there."

Bowles shook his head.

"That's not good. If they weren't in cahoots before they sure as shit are now."

Ross continued.

"I dispatched Bravo Two, callsign Freebird to take out the kill-team."

He paused.

"Apparently they failed as well, because our scouts spotted the team a few hours later."

He reached into a pocket on his vest.

"The good news from that is from that last engagement we received vital intel on when and where the Insurgents were going to attack."

He pulled out a rolled up sheaf of paper and handed it to Gavin.

"My platoon was able to successfully repel the attack, you'll find the details in my report."

Gavin looked down at AAR and frowned.

"It says here you used the Wily Pete mortar on the survivors, was that really necessary, lieutenant?"

Ross shrugged.

"It was nasty, but it was to send a message, sir. And more importantly we were able to bag Gould, alive."

Crosby leaned forward.

"Really? If we have one of theirs then we can find out where these bastards are hiding..."

Major Gavin continued their train of thought.

"...then we can enact Operation Cockroach, eradicate Grey Fox and end this pointless War."

He looked over to Ross.

"Lieutenant, where is Agent Gould at this moment?"

"My men are holding him at FOB Foxtrot, sir."

Gavin glanced at the map.

"Alright, radio to Bravo Three and have them take Gould and any survivors to the Gate. There you are to extract the exact whereabouts of Grey Fox. Find out what rat-hole Riggs is hiding in so we can dig him out."

An unnatural glint appeared in Ross's eyes.

"It would be my pleasure, sir!"

Gavin frowned.

"Ross I know what you're thinking, so let me be clear. You are to use non-lethal methods to extract that intel, enhanced interrogation is strictly forbidden."

The lieutenant started to protest.

"Sir, with respect, Daniels was a tough nut to crack, and this Gould could be-"

"...This is not a town hall meeting, lieutenant, and my orders are not up for debate!"

The major's face flushed with anger as he continued.

"You will use non-lethal interrogation methods to gain intel, is that clear?"

Ross sullenly took his M4 off the table, muttering a response.

"I said, is that clear, Lieutenant!"

The officer looked directly at Gavin, and saluted.

"Yes, _**sir**_!"

Without another word Ross spun around and stalked off. Gavin shook his head as he saw the retreating figure, then he looked over to the captain.

"Mitchell, I know your boys are fresh from battle but I need Charlie Company to reinforce the Gate with what's left of Gaines' company."

Crosby interjected.

"But sir-"

"...We'll use Gould as bait to lure Captain Walker to the Gate. With that much overwhelming firepower Walker will have no choice but to stand down."

Gavin's face turned grim.

We have to protect the civvies at all costs...we underestimated Walker and his team at the Nest, and I'm not underestimating them again."

Mitchell saluted and left, leaving Gavin with just Crosby and Bowles. Finally he looked over to Zulu Squad sergeant.

"You really think that this is all just one big misunderstanding, Crosby?"

"I'd feel alot better if we attempted to make contact with Walker, before the body count gets any higher. It's worth at least trying, sir."

Gavin sighed and massaged his temples.

"Alright, sergeant. I'll buzz the Radioman and have him broadcast a truce to Walker and give him an opportunity to explain himself."

Crosby frowned.

"Frankly, sir I wouldn't entrust that wannabe gonzo journalist with something this mission critical."

The major shrugged.

"Well, short of going down there myself and asking Walker, it's our best shot. In the meantime I need you to take Zulu Alpha and see if you can't chase down the Insurgent's to their source, and as soon as we get the intel from Gould I want you to lead Operation Cockroach."

Lugo's vision blurred as more sand engulfed him. He found himself sitting in the darkness, the omnipresent rumbling and stink of diesel fuel told Lugo he was riding in a transport truck. Over the din of the engine noise he could hear an orchestra of panicked voices, some in Arabic, some in Farsi, others in Hindi. Then, he was blinded by a shaft of light, as the flaps were open. There were more 33rd soldiers helping the frightened civilians out of the truck. Seated next to Lugo was a mother and little girl, no more than 5 years old. For some reason she looked familiar to the Delta sniper, though he couldn't fathom why.

The mother hesitated as it came to her turn to disembark, and in the confusion her child bolted. One of the soldiers cursed.

"Shit, we got a runner!"

Lugo could see the child's perspective as she ran between confused soldiers, he could sense the atavistic fear in the girl. To her, the 33rd soldiers were towering faceless giants in bizarre clothes who ate children. She collided with one of them and was temporarily stunned. Strong hands held her in place, and she struggled in an iron grip.

"Hey, stop it, it's okay, it's okay..."

The girl did not understand the words, but the voice caught her attention and she looked up. To her surprise, she saw that the giants were not faceless monsters. It was a man with sunburned skin, not much older than her papa. The man gave her a reassuring smile.

"Are you thirsty?"

He reached into one of the pockets on his chest, and pulled out a water bottle. A fierce thirst overcame the girl as she saw the clear liquid in the bottle, and it overcame her fear and she reached out. The man unscrewed the bottlecap and handed it to her. She seized it and sucked greedily at the bottle as cool water soothed her throat. She had almost forgot what clean water tasted like. She heard her mother's voice calling out to her.

Captain Mitchell smiled as he watched the girl drink. It was amazing how easy a bottle of water could win hearts and minds. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling out.

"Maya!"

He looked up and saw a woman in a tattered sari running up to him. Two soldiers from Charlie company started to block her way, but were warded off by a shake of the captain's head. The mother reunited with her daughter, hugging her tightly. After a while she looked up at Mitchell, it was a look he knew all too well from the Rockpile and the Sandbox. Fear mixed with suspicion.

He pulled out another bottle of water and offered it to the woman. It had the desired effect, she took it as well, but unlike her daughter she only took a small sip of water before replacing the cap. She then stood up and spoke to Mitchell in accented English.

"Why did your men capture us, what have we done?"

Captain Mitchell held up his hands in a gesture of placation.

"Ma'am we're not capturing you, this was a rescue operation. The hotel you were staying at was compromised by the insurgents."

He pointed to a covered area in the camp, where the refugees were being handed water bottles and ration packs.

"Here is safe, we can provide you with water, food and shelter. I promise you, after the insurgents are defeated you can go back home."

The woman frowned.

"Home? My home was destroyed by the sandstorm." She said bitterly.

Mitchell didn't know what to say, but he felt something tugging on his BDU trouser pocket. He looked down and saw the girl looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Will you save us? Will you keep mama and me safe?"

The captain gave her a reassuring smile. he pointed to the throng of soldiers, armor and HUMVEEs.

"I promise. We've got two companies here protecting you. Nothing bad will happen."

Lugo watched the conversation, and the guilt weighed him down like a bar of lead in his chest. He hung his head in shame. Then, he heard Walker's voice.

"Alright, Lugo, what are we up against?"

He opened his eyes, and he was back at the Gate, looking out over the square where Charlie and Echo company was. He felt like he was in a videogame where he was being controlled by someone, or something else. He heard himself speak.

"An army, give or take."

Walker let out a low whistle.

"Wow, no shit."

Lugo heard himself speak again.

"How we gettin' through this?"

Off to the side he heard Adams speak up.

"This might help."

The sniper didn't want to look, but he forced himself to direct his gaze at what his squaddie was pointing to. The Wily Pete mortar, for the moment still harmless as it sat folded up next to a crate of supplies, rations and water tablets.

He barely heard Walker speak.

"Fine, set it up."

Then Lugo felt in control of his own actions, and he shook his head.

"You're fucking kidding, right? That's white phosphorus!"

Irritation seeped through Walker's voice as he retorted.

"Yeah, I know what it is."

"You seen what this shit does!" Lugo continued, "You know we can't use it!"

Adams spoke up.

"We may not have a choice, Lugo."

He glared at Adams.

"There's always a choice!"

A resigned look came over Walker's face.

"No, there's really not."

He saw Walker stalk over towards the laptop, and heard Adams speak.

"You aim, we'll fire, Walker."

At that moment Lugo realized he had to make a decision, and he stood up. Adams looked over to him.

"Lugo, what the fuck?! Get down before you give away our position."

Lugo shook his head.

"No."

Adams seemed puzzled, but Lugo's response wasn't directed at him. Walker frowned.

"Sgt. Lugo, you are to assist Adams in priming and firing that Wily Pete mortar. That's an order."

Again, Lugo shook his head.

"No, sir. I can't."

The frown deepened on Walker's face, and something primal boiled in his CO's eyes. He spoke in a low but dangerous voice.

"You will obey my orders, sergeant!"

Quick as lighting Walker drew his M9 and pointed it right at Lugo. The sniper's blood froze at the gun barrel pointed at him, and he barely heard Adams' panicked voice.

"Captain, what the hell?! I've never seen you like this before..."

Walker, without taking his eyes off Lugo, turned his M9 slightly and pulled the trigger. A shot ran out, and Adams stared incredulously at the red stain on his vest as he crumpled to the ground. Lugo looked out at the throng of 33rd soldiers, wishing that someone had heard the shot. But they went about their business as if nothing happened, and Lugo looked back at Walker. The captain's face contorted into a snarl that made him look more like an animal than human, and he growled.

"That's the only warning you get, now set up that Wily Pete mortar, sergeant."

Lugo knew what he had to do. He lowered his head in defeat, and nodded. Walker relaxed, and went back to his old self as he bent over the laptop. Lugo reached out and pulled the mortar into position. All that was left was to put a round in the chamber. Suddenly he grabbed one of the frag grenades on his vest, pulled the pin and dropped it down the mortar's barrel.

Walker looked at and saw Lugo diving for cover, yelling out.

"Grenade!"

Walker scrambled to the mortar, oblivious to the danger, and tried in vain to fish the grenade out. There was a loud explosion as the grenade detonated, destroying the mortar and Walker in the process. For a long time Lugo lay on the ground, waiting for the suppressing fire from the 33rd, and let out a sigh of relief that it was all over.

Then a noise caught his attention, and he looked up. In the fiery wreckage that was the mortar something stirred. A hand, covered in fire that consumed the charred skin only to have it regenerate and burn again, pushed outwards, followed by an arm. A body, still burning pulled itself from the flames, and Lugo's eyes widened in horror. It was Captain Walker, burning but still alive somehow. His eye sockets burned with a evil red glow, and when he spoke it was in an deep snarl.

**"You disobeyed my direct order sergeant!" **

The burning effigy of Walker grabbed Lugo by the neck, lifting him up with inhuman strength. Lugo felt the skin around his throat burn as the creature spoke again.

**"Since you won't obey orders, you will BURN!"**

The creature then threw Lugo up into the air, and for a moment the sniper felt weightless then an eternity later he was falling, faster and faster. He opened his eyes and saw that the square was on fire, burning with the white phosphorus. Lugo fell hard on the ground, and but when he opened his mouth to cry out, his lungs burned from the fire. He felt the white-hot embers fall on him, burning through his armor, his skin, even cooking the meat of his muscle.

He opened his eyes, and somehow his eyes did not burn as he witnessed the hellish landscape around him. In that horrible moment Lugo knew that he had failed, he remembered the stories his mother told him of the place where bad people went. A lake of burning fire that would never fully consume them, but continue to torment them for all eternity.

He staggered forward, shambling past the 33rd soldiers that writhed in pain, past burning hulks of HUMVEEs and the ruined fountain. Each step felt like his joints were grating against broken glass, the pain was excruciating, but he pushed on. He had to see the civilians one last time, to see if any of them were still alive. He saw the dying corpse of Captain Mitchell asking 'why?' as he staggered over to the edge of the refugee camp. He stumbled over a burned body, lost his footing and fell to the lower level where the refugees were.

In the fire he could see civilians burning. Some were rooted to the spot, screaming in anguish as the fire consumed them, other clawed at the metal fence in a desperate attempt to flee the flames. In the midst of it, Lugo found what he was looking for. The mother and child, the vision that haunted him even in Helkeginia. The mother clutching her child to her breast, covering her daughter's eyes in a vain attempt to protect her, while the child screamed out in pain.

One of her eyes were burned away to the socket, the other was a milky cataract, so it shocked Lugo when as he approached her head swiveled towards him. The burning woman raised her free arm, and pointed a burning, bony finger at him. She rasped in a hoarse voice from beyond the grave.

"You. This is all your fault."

The shame and regret from her accusation tormented Lugo, such that the fire's torture seemed like a blessed relief. He sank to his knees, but said nothing. Then something even more bizarre happened. The girl pushed her mother's hand away, and looked at him. Most of her face was covered in third degree burns, but he could still see that she was sad. She stood up, and slowly walked over to him.

When she got close Lugo saw the burning white fire retreat from her steps, and as she got closer the burned scabs on her face fell away, revealing healthy skin. By the time she reached the sniper the girl was whole again, and she looked into Lugo's eyes. She reached up and caressed Lugo's cheek, and the burning subsided. Then she turned to her mother.

"Mama, it wasn't his fault. There was no choice but fire."

Then, his pain, both the mental and the burning, vanished in a heartbeat, and Lugo found himself in a bright light, with the Weaver of Fate standing in front of him. She smiled at him.

_**"You have passed, John Lugo, and have obtained your absolution."**_

Lugo looked down at his hands, expecting to find burns, but found none. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Y'know, under normal circumstances I'd crack a joke about bringing marshmallows to a roast, but..."

The Weaver giggled at his quip, and Lugo remembered something.

"Say, back there -in the Crucible I mean- the girl, she said something about choice. What did she mean?"

The Lady snapped her fingers, revealing a large woven Tapestry. To Lugo it resembled the large tapestry he saw in Bayeux, but upon closer inspection he saw that the figures weren't medieval knights, but soldiers in modern uniforms. As he gazed at it seeing different scenes of destruction and sand, Lugo realized the tapestry showed every thing that Walker did in Dubai. He stared for a while at it, then looked back at the Lady, who seemed to read his thoughts.

_**"This Tapestry is where you came from, but unlike others this one is woven in continuous loop, each pattern has been prewoven such that there are no choices, only illusions. Were it not for your decision you would be doomed to repeat those failures again and again."**_

Lugo marveled at her words.

"Wow, that's some pretty heavy shit."

A thought came to him.

"So did something like that happen to Captain Walker? Is he, y'know, damned?"

To his surprise the Weaver shook her head.

_**"Captain Martin Walker had fallen far, but he was not beyond redemption. He is atoning for his sins, just as your companion Lt. Adams is."**_

She smiled again.

_**"And speaking of which, there is someone who wished to speak with you, John Lugo."**_

The Lady disappeared, and Lugo looked around, but heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Lugo? Is that you?"

The sniper turned, and saw Lt. Adams standing there, looking dumbfounded.

"Adams?"

But before Lugo could react Adams rushed him, and enveloped him in a crushing bear hug.

"Okay, okay, you're crushing me buddy!"

His squad buddy released him, and Lugo saw that the heavy gunner was wiping a tear from his eye.

"Say, you were crying, weren't ya?"

Adams shook his head.

"No I wasn't. Just got something in my eye."

Lugo grinned.

"Yeah, it's called tears, and I never pegged you for the emotional type."

Adams bopped Lugo on his shoulder, grinning.

"Jackass!"

There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, finally it was Lugo who broke it.

"So...you ended up in another world, too?"

This time Adams looked sheepish.

"Ah, yeah you could say that. Me and Walker ended up with a new gig."

He looked at Lugo.

"Although a little bird told me you got a lot better deal than us."

Lugo chuckled.

"What can I say, the Weaver said it would be a waste if this sexy beast ended up anywhere other than a world full of buxom babes."

They shared a laugh, then Adams turned to leave.

"Well, I gotta roll. You take care of yourself, y'hear?"

Lugo gave his squaddie a fist bump.

"Do that same, Adams..."

Then the Delta sniper opened his eyes, and once again he was staring up at the rough-timbered ceiling. He was back in his bed, then he heard a soft squeak. He looked over and saw Siesta was awake, her blue shimmering eyes staring at him.

"What's wrong?"

She reached out and took one of his hands.

"Y-you were having another one of your nightmares, John! It was so bad it woke me up, I was terrified."

Siesta was shocked when she saw Lugo laugh.

"A-are you alright, John? Have the night fevers returned?"

Lugo gave her a smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Not to worry, sweetie. I was doing bad, but I'm better now. Those nightmares are long gone, never to return again."

* * *

><p><em>(AN: Wow, that was seriously difficult to write, not the least of which I had to re-watch the Gate chapter from SO:TL. But, all's well that ends well, Lugo has passed his test, now only a couple more to go...<em>

_Someone had remarked as to what would have happened if Crosby, Konrad, etc had not made the right decision. Well, this kind of enforces that if they made the same bad decisions in their Crucible that they did in Dubai (Konrad blowing his brains out, Lugo using the WP) they, like the denizens of the game SO:TL, would be doomed to repeat their failures over and over for eternity. Crosby's Crucible was a double whammy, since he had to resist the temptation to 'wake up' and resist killing Fire Walker._

_Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long, but fair warning I will be traveling next week, but things will pick back up again after the Crucible chapters, so don't touch that dial!)_


End file.
